Same Spot

imageI keep finding myself in the same damn spot

And I know what you’re going to tell me

You’re gonna say “Well, damn Faithe stop running in circles”

Sitting over there trying to be a smart ass

But I’m not!

It’s been like running on a treadmill

I’ve kept my eyes and my body facing one direction my whole life

Sprinting my ass off, pretty literally

Til the people in the back give me that one eyebrowed look that says “Damn, girl…”

And I relish in the fact that I can see them in the window

But even though I like it sometimes, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still in the same damn spot

Thinking the same damn things

Telling the same damn stories

Feeling the same damn pain

The same pain that keeps me coming back to that same damn treadmill

And keeps me in this same damn spot

And I don’t wanna stay in one place all my life

I wanna move!

Be somewhere else!

Feel other things!

Nice things…

I wanna connect with people!

But the only way I can really connect with you is to be the Me

That I told you I’d be from the beginning

But that me hurts

And it’s that

Hurting kinda hurt that, you know, hurts

Your soul

Which is way more painful than pain in your body

So I still try to change

I keep trying to be someone else

Trying to hide the fact that I’ve always been myself

And that’s never been who I’ve wanted

And when it doesn’t work

Because it never works

I run that shit off

I run off the pain of failure

And the pain of rejection

And the pain of being a person surrounded by people

And I soak it

I drench it

I drown it

In the kinda pain that really rounds out your ass…

So I can get some sorta satisfaction somewhere

Ha. I guess in a way that’s me running in circles



From over here

I’ve been watching you

From over here

Not close enough to satisfy me

But not far away enough to truly disappoint

I’m just nearsighted enough to see the fuzzy outline of your figure

And I’ve seen you use those fuzzy arms to grasp at moments

And capture them within your arms quickly

A child with your new favorite blanket you hold them close to your heart

So close they can hear your heart beating

But not as close as you’d like them

Not close enough to change your heart’s rhythm

Not close enough to change you.

And you squeeze them so tightly that the life leaks right out of them

You wear those poor things out until they’re hardly recognizable

And your face drops again as you drop that rag to the ground

And you realize the joy of the moment has left

And you are back where you were

In the present

In the future

In the now

And I keep watching you as you desperately try to hold on to those moments

Moments that slip through your fingers like sand in your fists…

And I wonder why you are so desperate for them

Why you don’t know that you’re worth a lifetime

A lifetime of happiness

A lifetime of success

And a lifetime of love that a mere moment will never give you

When you hold such high expectations for them

And I could shout it out to you from where I’m sitting

But you’ve always been selective in your hearing…

Broken Pieces

I think I’m attracted to broken people

Broken pieces scattered by fate

Ignored and left in supplication

In desperate need to be repurposed

I am in love with these broken pieces

And the possibilities they contain

If loved in just the right magnitude

If given just the right amount of effort

Yeah, I’m in love with those broken pieces

And the artful jagged nature of their edges

That can be smoothed or left alone

A tribute to their inherent grace

I am so in love with broken pieces I count their imperfections so as to properly admire their beauty

Their beauty incandescent

Yet, somehow hidden by the cruelty of circumstance

Broken pieces
Broken people

I cling to them as if magnetized

I find them in crowds as if guided by compass

And they find me too

Neither of us with conscious intentions

Neither of us expecting favorable outcomes

We associate and contemplate our existence together

We contemplate the meanings of our lives

We ponder the words people have told us

And their mantras of association

They say:

Be around people you want to be

And those words resonate with us

Be around people you want to be

And the sound rings loudly in our ears

Because do the people we want to be

want to be us?

To be near us and broken pieces?

To be near us and our jagged edges?

And it wouldn’t matter for me anyway

See, I’m so attracted to broken people

I am so in love with broken pieces

The artist never discards of possibility

The lover in me never neglects need

My need

My need to be affected as well as effective

To be a stone washed over by a sea of broken pieces

To be in a sea of broken pieces washing over a stone

Smoothing over its rough surface

Creating a safe space for it to mold itself

Because I have been buffed

I have been burnished

I have been smoothed

I have been polished and made ever better

And then I have been left

To contemplate it all

You see, the sea of broken pieces

The sea of broken people

My sea of broken pieces

My sea of broken people


That sea, that glistening sea

Doesn’t want to me

That sea of broken pieces

That sea of broken people

Want to be freed from their own brokenness

And I admire and I am so in love

With the nature of their being

And I admire and I am so in love

With the resilience of their hearts

Their hearts that continue beating

Despite being left in pieces

Their hearts that keep loving

Broken pieces like me

But I am not what those broken pieces so desperately want to be

I am not whole, or unblemished, or unscarred.

But I am in love with my own broken pieces

I am in love with the light reflecting off the shards

I am in love with the beauty broken people rarely see within themselves

And I am in love with their fervent need to be whole again

Whole again

Unlike my incandescent, glistening sea of broken pieces

Whole again

Unlike a buffed, burnished, and smoothly polished me