I’m sorry that sometimes my fire burns under water,
that sense isn’t made,
and so far isn’t so good,
that what should add up, falls apart.
We’re trying to catch a million soapy bubbles.
No matter how gentle we go,
they pop at the touch
or float just out of reach.
I'm sorry that I feel both joy and discontent in the same moment
And both are equally true.
I’m sorry that one plus one does not always equal two.
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
I’ll be honest,
I miss staring into your eyes, my hand on your cheek, giggling because each word from your mouth was new and lovely.
I miss how every touch was a lightning storm with colors I'd never seen before.
Staying up until 2am because we just couldn’t help it
Asking questions we didn’t know the answers to
Talking long walks and finding “our spot”
Now there are less butterflies,
but that’s only because we’ve caught them.
They’ve settled down a bit and only take off when the weather’s right, but we’ve gained some things in their stead:
Trust that we can say and do anything and it will be met with understanding not judgement
Knowledge of the other's needs and wants and quirks
The desire to work together toward something bigger than ourselves
Security that we have chosen each other over and over again
And I’ll be honest again,
I don’t feel in love with you anymore.
Because being in love to me used to mean I couldn't hold back from kissing you and that the "I love you's" had to be grander and deeper each time.
But now I do hold back for the sake of our souls
and now I say “I love you”, but you already know.
The roller coaster has stopped and we’re going back home.
I am in love with you, but I’m adjusting to a new definition.
A love that isn’t butterflies crashing around in my belly until three in the morning.
It’s a love that is going to bed at 11 so we can go to church, a love that is cleaning the kitchen together, keeping up with each other’s families, listening and reminding each other of truth when it’s been a hard day, and knowing that our arguments won’t last.
I know the feelings are fleeting but the fact is we are always there for each other and we never get tired of being in each other's presence and that is all I need.
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 11:57 PM UTC
Seeing you
is like opening an old door
to sunshine and warm breeze,
after hunkering indoors all winter.
Touching you
is like diving into the ocean for the first time,
the bubbles fizzling and the current playing with your toes.
Hearing your voice
is like Home got up and started talking,
and its favorite song is laughter.
Smelling you
is the familiar scent I’ve always known
but could never figure out from where,
until I met you.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 8:40 PM UTC
You asked me what reminds me of you
And before you even finished
A thousand things came to mind.
Things as simple as grocery shopping,
And seeing your favorite tea
When a truck like yours passes me on the road
Or when I wear a shirt you've complimented
Watching a sunset or feeling the breeze
Reading a book I think you’d like
Going places we’ve been together
When something exciting happens
Or something disappointing
Hearing words you often say
People who wear glasses
Mangoes and pizza
Puppies and tea
Park benches and polar bears
Love songs
and people holding hands
People
Places
Things
Everything
Everything reminds me of you.
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC
I've read a lot of romances,
And before I fell asleep,
I would write my myself into the pages, and fall in love with Wesley and Darcy and Aragorn.
She would catch his eye, and he would approach, and they would talk for hours holding hands under the stars.
I would meet people, who I thought I could replace the heros in my stories,
but,
when the part arrived,
where he got down on one knee,
I couldn't imagine it with anyone.
But now,
I see us meeting at the alter,
our house
and our kids.
I see my old hand on your wrinkled face.
Road trips and trips to the store.
and making up after arguing
what movie to watch on a Friday night.
"You know you're in love when reality is better than your dreams"
I think I might understand now.
Because while you're not perfect,
neither am I.
You exceeded all my expectations
Not only did you fulfill everything I'd hoped for,
but you made it better.
Because it's you. And I could never invent the way you surprise me with the way you make me feel.
I'm excited and unafraid
Of
the
possibly
of
You
Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 7:26 PM UTC
If I could meet you again for the first time,
I would.
10 times over
And every time,
I would choose you.
If we met at the park,
it would be autumn.
We would see each other there everyday, walking alone,
and one day,
we would look up,
a little nervous,
and say, hey there,
and then, some how, we would end up walking together
hardly saying a word,
as if we had known each other our entire lives.
If we met at work,
I would say hi,
and you would ask, how are you,
and that would be all.
Until one day you would offer to carry my bag and walk me to my car,
and I would unlock the door to get in,
but it would hang there open, long after I planned to leave.
If we met at in line at the book store,
I would ask you what you were buying,
and you would launch into a story, describing the movie or book or whatever you held in your hands,
and as you explained,
your eyes would get really big and your hands would move all around, trying to describe how much you love it.
If we met as kids,
we would race up the slide,
and play tag,
and I would pretend I didn't like to be caught,
but secretly I did,
and we would hide in the wooden castle,
and make up stories,
and miss each other after we went home.
If we met in class,
we would sit next to each other the first day by accident,
but we would become friends.
You would be early everyday and save my seat,
and I would come just in time,
and when I got sick, you would give me your notes,
and when the other wasn't there, the empty chair beside us would swallow the whole room.
If we met when we're old,
I would see you greet the receptionist in the doctor's office,
and watch you laugh about something she said and thank her, your eyes sparkling and kind.
And, at 70, I wouldn't care about subtlety anymore,
so I would go sit down next to you and ask why you aren't married
and you would say, because I've been waiting for you.
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
I saw a shooting star
It was a firefly
But I wished anyway
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 10:00 AM UTC
I like going up to 9th level of the parking deck across from where I live.
I always take the stairs so my blood is buzzing slightly at the top.
My favorite is when it’s windy; the wind mixes up the sounds and smells and dirt below and sends it far away, cleansing the air.
I like looking down at the road that I walk on everyday, with the perspective of a bird, rather than a person.
Watching from above, far enough away that I can no longer hear the people's footfalls, mindless chatter, raucous laughter, see their expressions, their clothing brands, their incessant cell phones.
Watching them take infinitesimal steps across the street or cars take a corner too sharply just to save half a second reminds me that I too am an ant.
Going nowhere.
Doing nothing of importance.
Fluttering from one place to another with the weight of a jury on my shoulders. Believing that my footsteps echo across the world, shaking the ground beneath everyone's feet to cause earthquakes, when in fact, they are almost inaudible.
I know it's time to go when the lights turn on, reminding me that I can only stay removed from society for a short while. Thoreau returned to civilization, the Pevensies left Narnia, Caesar went back to Rome.
A butterfly lay dead in the stairwell as I hurried down. I wondered how it had gotten stuck inside and how long it had flapped in anguish before it fell from the air to rest on the ground until the wind blew it away.
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 8:23 PM UTC
She is gold.
tender light hangs about her, enticing the universe.
a few brave droplets escape their cloudy prison,
gliding down to capture her luminous,
before shattering into golden fragments upon the pavement.
A blazing furnace.
she heeded not the warning of the winter wind,
rather dressing in bare legs,
their radiating heat thawing icy countenance.
A diamond among rubble.
her steps choose their own gait,
neither hasty nor laggard,
while brief case and worried eye pass her by,
her mouth yet curves gentle upward.
She soars just above reality.
An angel whose soles are not yet dirtied by the blackness on which the world treads.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
I like you,
I know we spoke not a word to each other,
but you wiped the fog off the window,
while the rest were content to remain in stupor,
instead of watch the masterpiece of nature and men pass by.
So I know you aren't broken by the world.
Your curiosity yet survives,
you do not take your eyes for granted.
When the bus threw us together as it swerved,
My bottle clattered to the floor,
You reached for it before I even noticed it had fallen,
So I know your heart has not been deadened by the apathy of the world.
Your face yet retains the softness of youth,
your mouth is not hardened from disappointment,
nor your eyes wrinkled by experience,
even though you’ve seen hardship,
because one cannot live in this world without encountering suffering.
You have guarded your innocence and your tenderness.
So without hearing your voice, I knew your spirit,
and together we watched the rain cleanse the earth until we reached your destination.
Good bye my friend.
Don't worry, I kept your window clean.
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC