I used to believe- No,
I used to preach:
Everything happens for a reason
Or as I prefer to say
There is no coincidence.
Then you showed up.
Why you of all people?
Why now?
Why?
Because if coincidence didn't exist
then there is meaning to my smile;
And the way I watch you dance in my peripheral
like a flower in the wind.
I think I like you,
I think I truly like you more than I have anyone in...
God knows how long.
Yet I'm leaving-
And so what the **** does that mean?
It's All tables and no chairs
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 2:49 AM UTC
I remember my moms cups of coffee as a child.
A hazelnut aroma rising out of her travel mug --
a gift she got as an underpaid teacher who had to get her boost on-the-go
--filling the car like steam from a hot shower fills a bathroom.
I remember that smell ironically always headed to school.
I remember the first time I was offered a sip of coffee.
Not nearly as sweet as it smelled.
Bitter liquid that terminated taste buds like water extinguishes flame as it billowed across the tongue and down the hatch.
I remember that taste vowing never to have to again.
I remember when my sister started working at a "coffee shop".
The one that competes with itself across street-ways,
and still has lines filled with downward looking drones despite being in Paris.
I wouldn't even eat the pastries she brought home
knowing the aroma entwined around them long enough for osmosis.
And sitting now, in the office of my retail store at 23,
Staring into my travel mug,
which looks like an above ground pool version of the black lagoon,
These are the memories that come to mind
as caffeine blocks adenosine from their receptors in my brain.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 5:45 PM UTC
It was a Monday afternoon.
I decided,
after months of putting off,
to finally give blood.
Red Cross had only been
emailing me for months now.
They were in bad need for blood,
desperate need for mine: O-
The man who took my information
was furrowed, leathery, and tired.
The opportunity time provided was conversation,
and the benefit of meeting Jesus.
Now the woman who took my blood,
was not only the unanimously decided tired,
but also sad.
The eyes gave it away.
The entire time I gave blood I listened,
and somehow made sure I didn't open up.
She sat there quietly counting the minutes,
While I denied her a chance to meet Jesus.
I treated her well.
I'm genuinely kind
as I know anyone can tell.
But is that enough?
And I'm questioning now with her memory in mind,
"What if that was Jesus?"
"What if He gave me the chance to better His day?"
And that's where I know I'm wrong-
For I know she was Jesus.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 7:03 PM UTC
Where do we draw the line
Between the difference of wanting something,
And when it's time you need that something?
I'm not unhappy,
Yet the latter is slowly fading.
And as I feel this through I remember,
There's a reason it's called a pursuit.
I don't know if I'm ready
But I know that I want you.
I know that I'm ready,
For that.
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
I've never been big on second chances,
And yet on night like these-
I wish I was
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 11:13 PM UTC
I turned to tarot last night in search for answers.
Answers regarding you.
Which only ever lead me to questions,
about me.
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
I can remember your touch
in passing
A slight graze
to gentle squeeze
These words
are driving me mad
So I give them
to you all instead
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 8:55 PM UTC
My lizard died today.
With sunken eyes,
He's relaxed.
Now I conceptualize:
His perception,
If one-
Of me.
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC