I’ve got a thing for good intentions

& for sunsets that look like mined gold

For hearts stitched up with bandaids 

& broken pieces that don’t dress up like they’re put together

I’ve got the world series going on in my chest, 

my ribs are often mistaken for a batting cages 

that people with cloudy day faces run to for practice

swinging their bats

I’ve got a thing for second chances 

& for people who have misused too many of them

I’ve discovered I love running 

& sometimes I think just because it gets me somewhere

Put all these things together 

& I find good intentions lay in hearts that are broken

and in people who have forgotten how to look like mined gold 

But all I’m seeing are the swings of their bats

fighting away their demons

because I’m too busy running from mine