the hourglass
full of
shifting sand
falling slowly
from my hands
through the
otherside of
the empty glass
hands moving
through space and time
surely we know
every moment
every minute sublime
still waiting
anticipating
ticks of the clock
fills the
other side of
the empty glass

..and the morning came
you stood there naked by the window frame
I lit a cigarette
and couldn't get your image out of my mind
which was fogged up
clogged up
with you and your scent
what we had yesterday evening
meant so much
that first tentative touch
the kiss
caress.
Did we take time to undress
was it so hot or was it just me
was the fire that we lit, that explosion we heard
did we hear or care
after the sharing
that magical moment of pairing and did we really split heavens?
heaven yes
I know we did.

So you look out the window
and I wonder where this will go
and come back to bed dear
let me get nearer again.

i. I’d tell them of the moment you spoke about your favorite cartoon characters, and the way your face flashed when you described them to me. How innocent that brilliance was and how guileless your mannerisms were. And I’d wish they understand why I fell in love with the feeling of your innocent enthusiasm about some nonsense cartoons no one else cared about.

ii. I’d show them all your worries and troubles stacked on top of one another in a carelessly balanced house made of playing cards. And while they were appraising these I’d point out how selfless you are. How your troubles were never centered around your own joy. And I’d wish they see that the house of cards I showed them is a reflection of the person you are. The kind of person who’d knock those cards down if they had your name on them instead.

iii. I’d paint them a picture of your mind as I see it. Full of intricate ambitions, contradictory emotions, unreasonable doubts and absent-minded memories. I’d use black and blue pen to dot your journey here. And bright red to show them the great places you are destined to go. And I’d wish they stand back and appreciate the amalgam of colors instead of questioning why. There isn’t a single spot on the canvas I seem to fully understand despite being the artist.

iv. I’d take them on a walk to the place we first met. I’d make sure it was a sunny day first, just like that one. I’d tell them I didn’t think much of you at all when I first met you. I’d make them sit in that same spot, and feel the same way we felt as indifferent strangers. And I’d wish they understand that despite the seeming insignificance of that moment, I look back and am convinced I see a halo of light above that place and the beguiling simplicity of that day.  

v. I’d tell them how tightly you hugged me when I was sad. How softly you touched my arm when you assured me that nothing was wrong. How quietly you showed me an overflowing friendship that’s waiting to combust  And I’d wish they understand that it’s not just how wonderful it was breathing in the smell of your old jacket. It’s how wonderful it felt, feeling the weighty presence of a thousand words unspoken.

vi. I’d warn them before they meet you, this is what I’d say: “It’s easy to make that boy laugh, but it’s hard to win him over. His love is not on display, his mind has been sent to the dry cleaners. His laugh has been blocked with by caution and logic. But don’t ever say you don’t understand that he’s a wonderful human being”, I’d hope they understand your appearance is all pretense.

vii. And if someone asked me why I love you, this is what I’d say: It is hard for me to imagine going through the rest of this life and meeting another singular human being like you.

Why do we have a sick obsession with fleeting encounters
We are infatuated with quick passions
We brush the surface of interaction
We brush lips
We brush hands
We brush lives.
We never press the surface
We never press our passions
We need to press our lips
We need to press our ambitions
We need to press our hands
We need to press our lives into symbiosis.
We are scared for what happens after the blissful, brief, mysterious moment
We do not wish to know what happens once the surface is broken
We fear rejection.
We err toward safety- to minimal contact- minimal exposure- minimal risk
Our fragile continence’s are limiting our life- our passion- our love.
Turn down the offer for fleeting life, fleeting passion, fleeting love.
Why merely brush life’s surface?
Dare to press deeper- life has more to offer than mitigated risk and passing romances.

So many people think they know what love is.
All they think is that it's just  feelings for someone.
Roses, and chocolates aren't going to cut it.
All I know is that, I know what love is.
Her smile, her laugh, her everything is perfect.

And I know I'd do anything to make her happy.
No matter what, even if it hurts me.
The smile on her face is more important.
It doesn't matter if were friends or more than that.
Leaving would just kill me inside.
Only you could make me feel this way.
Please stay.
Everyday, every month, and every moment.

I have always felt compassion and empathy for the kids I see at school walking alone, eating alone, for the ones that sit in the back of the room while everyone bullies them. I did not take the time to really think about the extent of their pain. Then, one day I thought, what if I did take a moment out of my time to simply say hello to someone without a friend or stop and chat with someone sitting by herself? And I did. It felt good to brighten up someone else’s day, someone else’s life. How did I know I did? Because I remembered the day a simple kind hello changed my life forever.

"You never get closure in an abusive relationship"
the advocate looked at me, softly, as she could waiting to see the hard news
soak in
the other women in the room were silent
Their "hes" were still around town, coming in and out
interfering, lying low, but at least paying attention,
abandonment is worse than punishment I thought
I was on the other side of the world, a reverse time zone
falling into the abyss
He took my wedding ring and engagement ring out of my luggage
then brought it up the stairs to me
and waited for the shuttle to come
I hugged him, but he didn't hug back, he shoved the bags inside
I was crying, he was stone cold, he payed the driver of the "sherute"
the shuttle to the airport in Hebrew, people stared but I didn't
care anymore, I was so used to people staring as he now
spoke to me and offered me a cigarette in front of the Mercez Horev, the mall
siting on the dirty concrete benches watching the line of people having
their bags checked before going in
Here I was smoking like I'd done my army service and gotten bored
and smoked to relieve the boredom and the stress
then something would go wrong and he'd get up, screaming at me
in English, and I'd run after
I didn't look at anyone in the sherute but I just knew they felt sorry for me
as we pulled away, after twelve years together, the last I saw of him
was him heading down the stairs
and now, the people at that job
I am learning new things in my classes
and, for one crazy moment I think:
I want to share this with them
so I write to my former boss
and that's the last thing he would ever want from me
He is the smart one, I am not, no one is smarter than him
He will never listen to me
Like I hugged my husband
not knowing he'd stolen my engagement ring and my wedding band
just like the Tel Aviv lawyer told me he would
the end. you never get closure in an abusive relationship