"it's okay. everyone needs to vent. And some people are so certain that they're right they can't pull their head from the sand and see the world as it is. A place where bad things happen to good people for reasons we cannot fathom. So they just deny that it happens and swear they have the answers, when they're really just as lost as the rest of us. I love you."

It was exactly what I needed to hear. That it was okay for me to feel the way I was feeling, that the people that were hurting me were wrong, but that we're all human and we make mistakes and sometimes, heads buried in the sand, we say things we don't mean, we're stubborn when we believe something, refusing to let it go, believing that, by clinging to an answer we swear we have, we can pull people into the sand with us.

I want to thank you for bringing this little ostrich out of the sand. You've taught me so much more than I've let on. You've showed me that our problems are not unique, they are not 'special' or any more important than anybody else's struggles, but they still matter. You've taught me that change is not always bad; that one decision that changes absolutely everything can be important and good and really hard but really necessary. You've taught me the meaning of the word unconditional. More than the dictionary definition ((Uncondtional (adj.) - without conditions or limitations; absolute)) you've guided me through the experience; regardless of what you did, who you were with, who you loved and how you felt, how you dealt with your pain, how long we went without speaking, the arrest I faced for trying to make my way to you, the words you wrote that [sometimes, and unintentionally] felt like a 12 gauge to the stomach, the tears I shed when all I wanted was to say hello one more time and have it mean something, the summer that I couldn't come home and talk to you every day - the summer when time seemed to tear us apart, the heart-wrenching beautiful poems I would read and cry myself to sleep over, knowing I could do nothing to make it better, and especially this consuming distance between us - in spite of everything, I love you, like I've always loved you, with everything I am. You've taught me that words unspoken can speak volumes, and that filling a void of silence with words is sometimes more harmful than helpful. You've opened my ears to new music time and time again, reminding me of how much meaning a song can hold. You've enlightened my eyes to seeing that beauty can be found in so many things, even dark situations. You've been the one to show me the worth of a moment, the truth that even when I'm feeling broken, I'm not, the possibility that a future can be good, and healing can happen. And you proved to me, more than anything else, that love is real.

We don't have to talk for hours, or even ten minutes. We don't have to talk about anything deep because even when you're just 'tickling' me, there's meaning in that. Sharing my heart with you has been so much better than if I'd just given it to you, because I've grown so much. And I've seen changes in you, over the course of the almost three years ((since October 8, 2008)) that I've known you, that make me proud of who you are, who you're becoming, how strong you've been and how much stronger you will get as you make these life-changing decisions. 

There's so much more that I could write, and so much more that I cannot because the words which I want to say have not been created. As much as I know you, there's still so much more left to get to know, and I want that chance. =]

My Monsieur Pingouin, all that I know is this: you truly are all you have at the end of the day, but I know that you will overcome the odds like you have so many times before. And I'm offering my heart, trying to say that, to the best of my abilities, you will always have me, too. Absolutes like 'always' are hard to promise, even easier to break, but not impossible. There will never be a day when you are not on my mind, when I am not wondering how you are, who you're with, what you're doing, how you're feeling, what you're thinking, what you've learned, what you've experienced, and who you've grown into being. I know that circumstances will eventually, again, keep me from talking to you. And I know that you will change, and grow, and love, because your heart is bigger than you know, even if you guard it carefully. Don't be afraid to let people in.

I know, like always, I haven't really said anything that you don't already know. Maybe I'm writing this just as much for me as for you. 

You are my Monsieur Pingouin. :] And I am your little ostrich. And I truly, deeply love you. You make the world so much better and brighter. I can't wait to see where life takes you, because I know it will be better than you even expected. <3

(P.S. The pictures hold a message. <3)

Oh, how that rings true.

National Poetry Month - Scavenger Hunt Throwdown #19
(A poem entitled "Murder.") 4 pts.

Sometimes I want you to murder me
not with bullets...though they seem
so much easier. But with your love.
Murder me by telling me you love
me and then ignoring me completely.
Slowly, torturously let me down
after whispering your sweet
promises of love, leaving me
alone here after all we've been through.
Stick a knife in my heart and say
"I love you, but..."
Meaning conditions, meaning pain,
meaning giving up. Murder me,

because it's what I deserve. 

National Poetry Month - Scavenger Hunt Throwdown #17
(A poem incorporating the following: Crow, sodium, calico, rust, marrow, scrape.) 5 pts.

Eighty degrees in late April...humid and soggy from
the thunderstorms the night before. As the sun
dries out the decayed sweet-smelling autumn leaves,
the hollow shell of a yellowed classic VW Bug rusting,
the smell of sodium and urea emanating every time I walk
past, the appearance of scrapes on the paint suggesting
that Jasmine, the beautiful calico feline that resided in the
car, was dulling her nails a bit, or trying to. Almost as if
trying to get to the marrow of her home, the scrapes
are deep and I look at my arms as a crow caws out his
presence twenty feet above me. Speaking of trying to
get to the marrow, my arms - riddled with beautiful, disgusting
scars as reminders of when there were moments I was too weak
to be honest to myself, and moments I was too strong, remembering
all the things I'd rather forget. Rust and scrapes are no strangers
 to me. My heart has experienced both, and as that sweet darling cat
curls around my feet, I'm reminded that there's a softness in
reminiscing. 

National Poetry Month - Scavenger Hunt Throwdown #15
(A post about the poets or poems you admire or have influenced you.) 4 pts. 

disturb(In)g the uni(verse)...
I seem to find that T.S. Eliot
had the
           right
                   idea
And shake (still) the (Empty)
Ideathat that [worth] is
based upon
                [less] of whoYOUare
                and more of whatYOUweigh 

             be(cause) the lie is blatant and
              when you become [a] transparent eyeball
                 everything (change)es and even
                     e.e. cummings, (that) brilliant
poet(love)rsoul search er would be
proud of what your (can) strength
ways all dissipate, (overcome)
(and) comeonover. These beautiwordsful that I love
from these two
menATarms against society is what (keep)s me
reading, (going.)