i remembered you yesterday the boy with a smile he couldn’t hide– the childish innocence running through the lines of your face. like uncovering an old box of records, full of songs you’d forgotten existed– but to which you know all the words. i remembered falling softly with you– into arms that seemed they’d never …
it’s always perfect when you leave and equally sublime when you stay.
if i could capture my moments with you in words– they would sing and sigh and breathe as no words have ever dared. if i could call upon all songbirds to lift their voices in harmony and encapsulate the elation and joy flying through my heart, i would. if i could wrap my …
my heart hurts sometimes acknowledging growth is not without discomfort
I’ve closed my heart before locked it tightly– buried the key beneath layers of shoulds and coulds and woulds I’ve watched myself walk away treading carefully, moving backwards longing for an explanation some semblance of the truth I’ve understood the sting of rejection– internalized its pointy edges, embracing their lessons along with the …
i love it when you call me baby it breaks my heart wide open and spills it on the ground and wraps me up in an understanding that needs nothing more than your silent smile and gentle, responsive hands i love it when behind your eyes i see the sparkle of your boy– …
your hands possess a
knowledge your mind cannot touch
blanketing my fear
You, who will drop everything for a friend, or even an acquaintance– set aside your plans or desires without even the slightest look back– or thought for SELF. She has taught you a very lopsided version of boundaries– barriers perhaps is a better word– walls which are programmed to spring into action when the …
I think it’s important I be up front about this now– before we traverse this path any further and then you look back at me incredulously and say– “hey, you could’ve warned a brother,”– so here’s your warning: I am a fiery bitch. Sure, I can be sweet and tender– and I’ve tapped into loving …
Today you brought me soup. It was perfect, although its precision had nothing to do with the gift and everything– with the giver. Stretched out across a lazy afternoon, fingers running along the lines of your face– through your hair. my honey-coated throat– happier with you here. The sunshine poking its rays through my window …
the edges of myself 