when they cross my mind
i feel like
my arms are being squeezed into a hug
and my cheeks are sore from being pulled into a thousand smiles
and my lips are bursting with giggles
and my heart is warm and content

i feel love

It feels so wondrous
to spend time with people
who make you feel light as air,
who make you forget
all thoughts of yourself

it's hard to fathom
how a person
who feels like an unshakeable part of your world

like the ground under your feet
or the sun in the sky

can become nothing but a ghost

sometimes words
slip out of his mouth
before he has a chance to notice

some people's unfiltered appraisals
are ugly, painful, taboo
not his

his are brimming with kindness
born of empathy
glimmers of an inside of pure gold

humans try
foolishly
to create their own gravity

the beauty around them
they claim
drawing it in
artificially
as if it exists
only to affect them

silly, isn't it?

I want all of your minutes
every hour, every day

Each moment spent together
fuels my desire for more

Time spent without you
is insipid, anticipatory

I'm not usually this way
you've made me greedy

they say that eyes
are the window to the soul

yours are a humble green
soft, and steady
they don't shout at you
but they make you feel safe, and warm

what rests behind that window
must be pretty beautiful

i could look all day long

he is
warmth

it envelops me,
comforts me,
until I melt.

he is
generosity

giving, persistently,
insisting that I allow myself
to receive.

he is
steadiness

without fail, he is there
there is no better gift
than trust that is deserved.

he is
miraculous

his bottom lip bears two (adorable) freckles
his arms are solid and curved in a way that is addictive to touch
his hair waves deliciously
his eyes reveal new colors each time I look into them
his eyelashes are a warm, soft brown
his stubble casts a handsome shadow along his jaw

lucky am I to behold these details

his fingers are my muse

they pluck out melodies on the guitar
with such ease,
such grace,
such control
they do his bidding
and create something beautiful

those same fingers
dance over my skin
sometimes they're soft,
sometimes they're rough,
they know how to make music out of me,
how to create something beautiful

I’ve been here a while now.

In this foreign land of flashing lights and rushing people,
Of too-small hallways and too-high-to-believe buildings.

I’ve pressed myself into countless crowded subway cars,
Jumped out of the way when my shower water inexplicably (but unfailingly) turns scalding hot,
Clocked in thousands of steps going up my four flights of winding stairs (the last one being the one that really gets you),
And woven through person after person on the street, as though I’m a car, like a true New Yorker.

I’ve been out here all by myself
In a place that feels as far from home as could be.

But I must say
The strongest sense of home
Has crept up
And stricken me
A few times now
When I’m not expecting it.

Home is
The feeling of going on a run
The familiar sensation of pushing myself to just keep going
The reward of a beautiful view
The tried and true playlist I know so well.
I discovered this little snippet of home the first time I took a run in the city, along the East River around twilight.

Home is
The feeling of walking into a yoga studio
The familiar creaks made by bare feet padding along wooden floorboards,
The familiar scent of lavender and burning candles
The challenge of flowing through these poses I’ve held a thousand times
The comfort of being told at the end that all I have to do is let the earth hold me
I discovered this little snippet of home the first time that I took a yoga class in the city, at New York Yoga.

Home is
The feeling of working my way through my morning routine
The slow, peaceful ritual of brewing my coffee and heating up my muffin
(then slathering it with almond butter)
The soft light and quiet morning sounds that accompany my morning reading
The migration to the couch as I continue to relax and ease into the day
The awareness that there’s nothing to hurry to, nothing to do but to enjoy this moment
I discovered this little snippet of home the first Saturday that I had to myself in the city, in my apartment on the Upper East Side.

Home is more of a feeling than a place, isn’t it?
It’s a deep sense of comfort,
A sense of, I know this.
It’s an exhale,
A soft flicker of contentedness
A suddenly visible string
Tethering you to what you know and love.

I am grateful to have found these little snippets of home
That made me forget that I am so far away

And soon enough,
This far-away place will start to feel like home, too.

The thought of other people
Stepping in to fill the role
That you just left
Kills me

In some sick way
I enjoy the pain
I welcome it

Because that means that what we had was real
And that it’s not over
That you’re still here

Sometimes I feel guilty for writing about me
"I this, I that..."
It makes me feel selfish.

But why?
Writing about how I feel helps me understand myself
So why does this make me feel uncomfortable?

I think that I feel obligated to write about something more worthwhile
and valuable

But I need to start believing that I am a worthy enough subject.

I am confused and uncomfortable right now
But I am on my way towards being able to say,
"I"
with confidence.

I am an early afternoon,
A setting sun that holds endless possibilities.

I am a floral swing dress one day,
And skinny jeans with heels the next
I am a carefully crafted outfit that represents me, even if it’s too much.

I am winter,
Bringing people together to find warmth and love.

I am purple,
A compromise between red and blue,
A modest yet captivating shade.

I am the soft flannel sheets that keep me warm in bed.

I am the hopeful, loving, giving spirit of Christmas.

I am the cross that symbolizes values and promises.

I am the chocolate cake that makes you forget everything else and just smile.

I am Dobby, always trying to do the right thing for my friends.

I am the sound of a crackling fireplace,
Quiet enough to let your mind roam free, but loud enough for you to know that I’m here to keep you warm.

we ought to stay together

for he used to kiss my nose
and you now kiss my forehead
I am running out of real estate
if only for this reason
we ought to stay together

for you warm my frigid hands
and call it your purpose,
thawing out my fearful heart until it melts
if only for this reason
we ought to stay together

for you held me while humming my favorite song
and I couldn't bear it if that memory
one day became tainted with pain
if only for this reason
we ought to stay together

for you always make my coffee first
and you help me out of the crossword when I get stuck
and you gift me videos of spoken word love poems
if only for these reasons
we ought to stay together

i've never before
had my breath
taken away

it's exhilerating

why is it that
a wide open day
full of possibilities and options
leaves me feeling like
I've got to fight tooth and nail
to keep sadness at bay?

why does my own company
make my mind whirl?

why does my time
beg to be filled, planned, maximized?

For a while I've been wondering
when I'd be sure

and boy am I sure now

it happened all at once

and now
when I see you
or you make an appearance
in my daydreams

I can't help but think
I love you,
I love you,
I love you!

(and I hope
and I think
that you love
me too)

i can see it in your eyes
say it

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder

That may be true
But for me

It also makes my body grow restless,
My thoughts grow nostalgic,
My self-control grow weak

As every part of me longs
To be with you

I too often bite my tongue
when I'm with you
and I'm not sure why

Maybe because I've learned
to not be bold
to not comment on such things
to be demure and appropriate

But forget that
you deserve to know

You're beautiful
You're handsome

In fact,
you're hot

i want
all of you

is that too much to ask?

tonight
old pain
reared its ugly head

i felt alone
unwanted
uncared for
unseen —

not enough

he held me until the pain went away.

I am a pendulum

I swing
back
and forth

and back
and forth

I love him,
I love him not

never in any one position
for long enough for it to matter

I am sorry
I know that this hurts you
(trust me, it hurts me too)

I hope that at some point soon
all the voices in my mind
that blow the pendulum to and fro
will kindly shut up

i want to protect you
and blame what i need
on some deficiency in me

and say baby don't worry
i am hurting
because he hurt me

i am hurting
because i am just not quite right,
just not quite good enough

(and most of the time,
i believe it too)

but i have to try to believe
that i'm as worthy as anyone else
and that i hurt because i am human

the truth is this:

lately i have felt
like i am rationing your love
and my stores are running low

i am scared

please,
fill me back up

we're both human
I understand
I'm here

the good times are bound to come back soon

It’s almost like
The very act of us falling apart
Is what let me see you clearly
For the first time in a long time

There in the rubble lay
What I doubted and pined for
What I ran myself into circles looking for
Pure, golden love

Truth be told
My heart was heavy for a little while
And the weight was so much
That I was too weak to see you

But it's getting lighter day by day
And I can see you now
And boy, do I love you
Boy, do I love you

God, I hope
I didn’t make a mistake

there is no lonelier feeling
than lying next to someone
who is supposed to be your lover
and knowing they're not there

it's waking up to you
swimming in sheets of white
and glimmers of soft morning light

snuggling into your easy touch
feeling warmth pour out of your body,
your eyes

let this never end

sometimes all that's left to do
is surrender

you can't control
your outside


peel back a layer
and there you will find
who you are

let the storm blow past you
as though you're a tree
rooted deep in the earth

have faith in your roots

my head was in the crook of his shoulder
as we discussed the following day's plans

i said, "believe me, i'm a planner"
he said, "i know, i've seen your lists"

i said, with a scoff, "you should see my brain"
and he said, "it would be beautiful"

and that was when I fell,
with a thud

there's no going back now

to find something in everything
to savor each day
to look into people's eyes
to stand up straight
to create and be proud of my creations
to shut my eyes, will out my doubts, and jump
to sing
to open myself to others
to listen, and to learn
to wear it, even if it's too much
to laugh until I cry
to live out love.

i'm at war with my mind

it's a swirl of jealousy
and images
and song snippets
and interpretations

that carry me away
down a tumbling inner road
away from the now

my eyes grow glassy
i pick at my nails

why is my grasp on myself
so loose?
so fleeting?

**** you

I'm not supposed to think about you like that

it's supposed to help
it does help
putting a wall around my heart
lets me move through my days
unencumbered, content with what we are

but thoughts of more are powerful bait:
hook, line, and sinker
I'm carried away
down a whirlpool of imaginings,
analyses, desires, and daydreams

can you just rescue me already?

today the past paid me a visit
the sweet, wonderful past

the past that is Coolidge Corner:
skipping through the rose garden,
giggling arm in arm with him;
walking through the swirling snow
to go cuddle in the soft blue bed with Espo;
taking big, satiating inhales and exhales
flowing with others at the studio;
laughing ourselves to tears
around mismatched cups and decks of cards;
fumbling through the scary road to our dreams,
hoping, holding, celebrating one another.

the past that is magical New York:
where I learned how to find myself
and find a sense of home in the park, in my friend, in runs and yoga and walks to sweet music.

the past that is my California home:
a home that no longer is the same,
but held so much growth and beauty.

Gratitude overwhelms me
the past is an unexpected, but beloved visitor

She helps me remember
just how quickly life changes
and to try to soak in the present
for it is unbelievably sweet
and holds pieces of the past
that I am so lucky to behold

Life is like
Making a baguette

It is about the process
(Though the end result is nothing to scoff at)

It takes work
And concentration

A focus and physicality
That brings a steady, simple joy

You will certainly mess up
But that’s okay,
That’s all part of the process

Fold it over
And try again

Make a bit of a mess
Find the beauty in it

Wait around a bit
Have a drink with friends
(Old and new)
While you wait

Et voilà!
There it is!
Bob appetit!
What a delight!

I feel like I can finally exhale
and let myself just love you

i was in *******.

the insides of walls were all i could see
day in and day out
re
lent
less.

the persisting darkness and pain seemed as though it would never end

but alas, here I am.

Free.

Free to breath,
Free to smile,
Free to live.

As Abraham Lincoln emancipated the slaves,
O, College Board,
the time has finally come for you to set me free.

salty tears spill over my eyelids
i have spent so long resisting them,
scolding them, lashing myself
telling myself i am broken
for having a soft exterior
with cracks that allow life to slip through

but what if this is part of my beauty?
what if isn't wrong to feel
every morsel of life that it has to give?
what if it means i can understand you?
what if it means i can help somebody
feel more seen, and less afraid?
what if it means i am just being my version
of alive?

i will try to soften
around these cracks of mine
and have compassion,
love,
for these parts of who i am

breath is like the ocean
it creeps in
and cascades out into a gusty wave

listen

I want to shout, burst, reach, touch
but all that I'm met with is a void

this is paralysis

I'm terrified to make eye contact with you

What if you can see
just how desperately
I want it to never end?

I turn up my music
to an ear-splitting volume
walk pointedly to the beat and try
to drown out my thoughts

It doesn’t work
the voices sneak up
and get louder,
faster

I keep walking

seeing their flaws
and loving them anyway