There’s a moment of youth
caught in time
that has air thick and damp.
Anticipation had subdued,
the car window ajar,
the cool summer night crept in
And their breath exhaled content.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 1:18 PM UTC
I stand amongst a convocation of minuscule water molecules shrouding my visibility. In every direction a blind vastness invites me in and sounds become equivocal. On the blank page I see possibilities, I see lives that could have been mine. My hair is weighed down by dampness in the air as I pass through unfiltered thoughts like pieces in a museum. I follow the only path I can see and find myself dragging my feet. More than my head, my whole being is stuck in this cloud. I search for an end to this hunt of satisfaction in my life but the colors get more vibrant in each portrait I pass. My imagination ceases to rest and the museum of my mind is unremitting in its creations. I’m beginning to accept there is no end-that some people must force themselves to be content.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 1:16 PM UTC
I wonder what 17 year old me would think.
Would she be happy with me?
She got everything she wanted from life.
I’m not happy with me.
I think a younger me would admire the person I have become but she wouldn’t know how it feels just how it looks.
I pour out my cup and complain it’s empty.
Nothing went how 17 year old me intended,
but does it matter if I ended up at the same destination?
I guess not.
I should be satisfied with this life
that I molded and shaped with my own hands.
Then why am I not?
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 1:15 PM UTC
Rubber slaps pavement
and the air feels lighter.
The smell of honeysuckle
strikes the nose
with approaching steps.
The water drenched blooms
look how I feel...
tired,
struggling,
beaten down,
but every time I pass their sweet scent
I’m reminded we both survived.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 1:06 PM UTC
An early morning fog
cloaks the city.
It slithers its’ way up
from the Mississippi.
A trumpet whines
in the distance.
Jazz music
plays solemnly.
The coffee stirs
like the river.
Sediment swirls
in a styrofoam cup.
Vines snaked up
historic buildings.
Don't reptiles like
this kind of humidity?
Even in january,
heat seeps
through clothes becoming
another layer of skin.
The powdered sugar
from beignets
makes everything
a little sweeter.
And all I can smell
is the earthiness
from the coffee
and the river.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 1:03 PM UTC
Accumulated droplets
Hung in levitation
Above high-rises
An unusual
Thursday afternoon
Greenery adorned
In rhinestones
Sank, heavy
From the weight
Of the wet branches
Concrete and brick
Slick with
the sky’s tears
Surrounded a
Rectangular oasis
The branches
had begun
To lighten
With each
Splash of liquid
On my face
And I thought
To myself
What a beautiful day
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 5:37 AM UTC
There’s something ancient in me
that communicates his familiarity
A recipe from ancestors
A kettle over the fire
simmering small moments
of togetherness, boils
to a lustful fervor
He stirs me before I boil over
My marrow aches to be in his bones
and my heart beats for his soul
There are some things that are just known
Components of endearment
thrown into a stock,
Flavors of intimacy
coalesce in the ***
A meal of remembrances devoured
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 5:30 AM UTC
I’m standing on the platform
of Warschauer Straße station
late on a cold February night.
The thought that preoccupies my mind
is that of you being so near to me.
You aren’t nearly as near
as we have been before,
but I miss our closeness so
that being 10 hours apart feels
as though a gap has been closed between us.
There's an absence of heat in the environment
and wind struggles to break through
my long black leather jacket
I feel the vibration of my phone in the breast pocket as it lights up with messages from you.
Oh, how I’ve missed sharing a time zone.
I tell you I love you easily
when I don’t have to see your face
as I say it.
The S-Bahn stops and people flood
the platform as others recede into the train car.
The wind picks up and a light rainfall
graces my cheeks in the now empty space.
I tell you how the city feels like home
and you reply home is where the heart is.
But my heart is with you in another city,
another country
and you speak so sweetly through these screens.
I’m waiting for the U1
as I wonder what we’ve become.
I didn’t need this distance to grow fonder;
I was already fond enough.
The love I have runs deep and it’s not easy to erase.
I think of the history in these streets
and how the damage is gone.
There was once a time when the war was still raging
and it seems silly to compare and think of love
in a city where my feelings could easily become numb.
But here I stand on the metro platform
in a city once divided by hate
thinking about you, thinking about love,
waiting for the U1.
May 15, 2023
May 15, 2023 at 9:13 AM UTC
You offered me some of your
constructive criticism.
I know it came from the heart,
but you told me,
“I know it’s your art, but
you should make it more relatable.”
That’s the thing you see?
It’s my art.
My art that I live and breathe.
I’m freeing me
from what I used to be.
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 5:52 PM UTC
Every day I turn the dial
as hot as it will go.
I let the water scorch my skin
as it falls upon me
in hopes it burns off
the remnants of you.
I run soap that smells of honey and almonds
over my red hot body
to release me of the feeling of your touch
but water and sweet smelling soap
can’t erase what you’ve done.
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 5:51 PM UTC