We spent the day in saltwater and heat.
And the sun gifted me with all the kisses we could not share
And left a lasting blush upon my face,
that will remind me of you
and the way that you make me feel.
This warmth that you give me.
And the pleasant pain in my cheeks from my stubborn smile.
You placed tiny pebbles, one by one, in the nook of my back.
They’re light - like you.
Easy. Comfortable. Playful.
You are a pure joy.
And life is sunny with you.
May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 3:29 PM UTC
Here is a secret I’ve kept for over four years.
There was a stack of letters I wrote you with the same title.
But over time I stopped writing.
Over more time, I tossed those letters out.
But now you are back in my mind,
and you hold a new space.
After too many failed relationships,
three people who have used me for their own desires,
and one specifically bitter heartbreak,
I see you in this new light.
I know with absolute certainty that you were my very first love.
I also know that you are the only person I have ever loved so purely and authentically.
So much so that this love for you remains with me still today.
I carry it in my heart, in secret.
But today I heard a song and I realized something else.
There are songs I have dedicated only to you.
Only to this innocent and pure love that was between us.
Never could I have given these songs to any other lover,
for the sheer reason that they have all crumbled and fell away.
But not you.
And my love, I have grown.
And I have journeyed so far from where you left me,
to realize that I will never again have you as my own.
And it is a reality I’ve learned to accept.
But those songs will remain yours…
Unless and until I can find someone who is truly capable of the love you give -
the love your soul has always readily available.
Someone loving and kind and pure-hearted.
For now they remain yours.
May 7, 2020
May 7, 2020 at 12:48 AM UTC
things fall together
and things fall apart
like words fall on paper
and transform into art
and sometimes the best explanation
is in the hands of God
and the reasons we look for
are far and abroad
and the heartache we feel
cannot be captured in poems
and the sickness and anger
is best left unspoken
Mar 31, 2020
Mar 31, 2020 at 12:53 AM UTC
i'm hanging on for coffee kisses
and sun-soaked mornings,
with frothy wonder at my fingertips.
hot steam rises,
and vivid colors slowly dissipate;
but my dear,
you sweeten those kisses with your smile.
presently, you're far,
and the mornings are hot and stagnant.
a cup of joe only gets me so far...
but i'm holding on for those coffee kisses that keep me going.
those coffee kisses and sun-soaked morning by your side.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 6:53 PM UTC
we kissed on december 10th, 2018 around 11 am after a fire alarm and breakfast.
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 1:03 AM UTC
Two souls underneath a black night, cold concrete beneath, and a freezing river far below. Our souls face troubles of their own, and our bodies shiver in the cold and with the nerve it takes to release a small amount of our very selves. But here, I am warm by your side, and my starry tears are a comfort as they reflect the twinkling sky and bring life back into my cheeks. The stars were guardians and intent listeners that night with you. And the chill of the air was our agent; as the flumes of incense will carry prayers to the highest heavens, so the wind would take our breath and transform it into misty whispers, whisking them away to the lights of the sky. Now if those prayers (unrecognized as so) were mighty enough, do you think it possible that those listeners became messengers? For as we lay shivering, we also were shaking under the weight of the universe, and as one star would flee the sky, it was as if our burden grew lighter and each wispy sigh of sorrow became instead a stream of laughter, lifting our spirits and brightening the sky above us.
And here. This was my moment of revision.
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 11:43 PM UTC
Can life be but spring dresses and pomegranates on my lips?
A slight scent of roses and honey?
A simple breeze?
Can skin be soft and flawless, and soaking in the glow of the April sun?
Can I wander alone? or perhaps... with you?
Then a constant showering, where the sky turns dark and the flowers grow.
Let's stay inside, veil the windows, watch the lightning.
The sheets are warm, and so am I - safe in your arms.
It's merely a concept of being content, a concept to consider.
And with the sun, the spring dress goes on.
A blanket in a meadow.
And you.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC
I'm broken down by their weakness,
and distasteful indecency.
Over and over, I'll continue to play the victim.
In place of warm life,
stone and ice grow.
Anger beckoning hate,
begging to harbor it soundly.
And I'm susceptible, having been made a weak shell.
My eyes encountering a new emptiness of low temperature.
My new self refusing hell, but where is the desire for heaven?
Its a disgusting feeling, new to me.
Stubborn against my tears, in attempts to force it out of me.
Tears over my former self.
I'm poison, only now.
Does anyone remember?
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 10:41 PM UTC
Does anyone remember?
I was given an angel once,
who surely could not remember
or who had possibly caught glimpse of my former self,
which could not be enough.
And yet, what was enough, was that this angel
made me remember.
There were promises,
of warm, and safe embraces,
which could melt the new ice.
And these embraces were the only true act,
that could force the anger away.
Tears were given a new life,
and their warmth was love.
I'm loving in a new way;
with gentle hands and generous arms,
genuine smiles and kind words.
A God-sent angel to heal my heart.
To renew me and teach me loving.
I remember.*
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 10:38 PM UTC
If I think back far enough,
I can recall
bamboo forests.
And when there was money enough
for the big fireworks on New Year's,
to illuminate those forests.
And if I think hard enough,
I can remember that swing in the front yard.
And swinging - from my father's arms.
And I believe I can recall
coming home to my mother.
Back when she would spend her days
painting and gardening and cooking and baking.
I can still taste the orange Spanish rice.
Sunlight filtered on the hardwood floors and wall paper,
and the cats seemed to appreciate it.
And I remember the tadpole pond,
and Grandma next door.
And I know Halloween was a must.
Have I strayed so far,
that these are now only memories to miss?
Can I revert to my father's arms,
and my mother's song?
What can I do?
I'm stuck in the pattern of growing up.
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 6:23 PM UTC