is it different?
do you love me?
do our conversations play out
over and over,
in your mind?
and do you also find,
for days after we meet,
that you're completely useless?
rendered incapable of anything
except writing
the same poem
again and again?
Mar 2, 2020
Mar 2, 2020 at 8:20 PM UTC
What is it about love and belonging? You don’t belong to me, and at the same time, what else could you be but mine? What else could I be but yours? I belong to you. You hold a part of me that no one else can.
Mar 2, 2020
Mar 2, 2020 at 8:14 PM UTC
Later
that night,
I
touch my
skin,
the way
that
you did.
Mar 2, 2020
Mar 2, 2020 at 8:14 PM UTC
having a cigarette in the alley
wonderful really
but maybe not as wonderful
if it weren't an excuse
to leave the party
Mar 2, 2020
Mar 2, 2020 at 8:13 PM UTC
she told me they are the in between stages. when one era of your life is over, but the next hasn't yet begun. it's a place of change, of uncertainty, of questions. of waiting. i thought of god for some reason. maybe the absence of god is actually the presence of him. maybe it's the spaces between words that matter the most. maybe it's the way the piano sounds when it's not being played. maybe truth only makes itself known in the absence of answers. after all, plants do grow in sidewalk cracks.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
new beginnings. correct beginnings. things that were supposed to end. a perfect last sentence, a book with no desire to be reread. reshoveling snow off my driveway, rewinding to the time and place it fell from the sky, lighter than rain and about as heavy as your heart.
honesty.
for when shovels give way to snow plows. for when it all freezes over. for when it thaws, and then begins to decay. for when the flowers grow in the sidewalk cracks, the ones that no one bothered to mend. for spring. for that color red, the most accurate one there is. the one you can hear. the one that only shows up in sunsets and tubes of paint. for the day you fell out of love with her.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
you held my hand in the middle of the night and i felt nothing. no pounding heart, or sweaty palms or head made of static. seven months ago today i would have passed out if you touched me like that. i'm sorry.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 3:29 PM UTC
what do you do? you keep going. you have to, right? you can’t stop. you just can’t. life itself was created to keep going. it’s in your bones to keep going. there’s a future out there for you - songs waiting to be listened to, words begging to be spoken, beautiful things that demand to be photographed, to be sketched by you, and only you. there are waterfalls out there that exist only for you to jump off of cliffs and into them. there are albums with your name as the songs. and if you truly believe it would not matter if you stayed alive or not, i cannot sit here and convince you that it does matter. i don't have that power. here’s the thing, though - you do. you can find your purpose. i swear to god it’s out there.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 8:37 PM UTC
last saturday, the sky turned a shade of orange so deep it made me want to feel something again. it’s december and the windows on my car are frosting over, and there are clouds out there that are so red they look like the end of the world. do you know that somewhere far away, flowers are blooming? some sunsets are pink for a reason. i don’t know what that reason is, but maybe if i keep singing to the sky like this i can find it.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC