Can we be happy,
if we are merely driven by
our goals and ambitions,
but we do not live in the present.

she was not fragile like a snowflake.
she was fragile like a bomb.
and i didn't know which was scarier-
                                                        ­  her explosion or her calm.

I would kiss you on the battlements
I would kiss you below flying cars
I would kiss you in the rain
Or when we would dance
Underneath the stars

Just keep me close through time
And time again-
I'll never leave your side,
No matter what,
I promise.

There's nothing that I love more
Than instagram and its meme galore.
There's all the memes I could ever want,
Ones with weird meanings or large fonts.
They make me smile for a little while,
Luckily phones and their memes are mobile.
I can see a picture, a combo of Os and Ones
And I can laugh until I eventually have to be done.

who took away your softness
and made you feel
the harshness of the ocean?

who took your tide away?

your lips tasted of salt once.
but the blue dye of your
ocean has begun to fade.

you were then,
so plump and mighty.
but today you lie flat
in the shallowest of
water.

tangled in the algae,
gathered by
your fingers.

when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.

She lay in bed,
her body a poem
upon my chest.
A sweet perfume
of rose memory
wafts in the space
between our breaths.
A silent incantation
disorients the voices  
in my head and it is quiet.
Our embrace is poetry,
and there are no words.
Just the silence between
lovers, whispered nothings.
I hold her tight,
drawing her to me
intent upon fading
into the memory of a rose.