i always felt
like i was lost
in a field of wildflowers
-
-
i could be plucked out
at any time
and things would still remain
beautiful

i start to think about rooftops and airplanes
it is there that we see the veins of our cities
from up above we utter their beauty
a beauty that we can't seem to utter with two feet on the ground
from higher ground we begin to understand
that we are all but small creatures
in a world of unknowns
from up above we can finally see
just how small we are
from up above
we see
possibility

there is such a thing called the poet's daffodil; Narcissus poeticus
one of the first daffodils thought to have been cultivated
a perennial, meaning: existing infinitely
continuously enduring
and always recurring

i first planted my seeds for you
many years ago
staring intently, i watched us grow among the weeds

you had an aura about you
i wanted to know more;
what made you the happiest?
& what kept you up at night?

eventually
i found myself close enough
to see the way
your hazel eyes catch the light
in all the right places
reflecting the colors of the world around you,
pulling in the things that inspire you
and just for a moment,
watching as they become a part of you

but i never needed to be close
because even far away,
i can see
your smile, when you allow it to show
your willingness to jump into the things that scare you
your passion,
determination,
and a laugh that could only be yours

you are the calmness
in a storm of my emotions
making me feel safe
a reminder to breathe
because everything is not always what it seems

the poet's daffodil
is the story of us
a recurring delight
who has endured much pain
and yet after all this time,
feelings still remain infinite

every time i close my eyes,
you find me

i run

my brain is reminding me
to fear you
to hate you
to despise you

i run

i've been a stranger
to myself
lately

i run

i hate what i've become
and it's because of you

i keep running

i run away

i run and i run and i run






but
you
always
catch up

I still look for you in every truck that passes.

6 months and still no sign that you continue to exist in this world
in something more than my memory.

Did anyone ever tell you I was back in town?
Have you gone searching for me?
Do you know what you've done?

You don't know the risk that I take
every time I leave my house.
Preparing to succumb
to a numbness of flashbacks.
Still hoping that our lives
do not cross paths again.

But I'm ready,
nonetheless,
to plot my escape.
If ever we are boxed in;
in gas stations or supermarkets
in dog parks or local bars.
The bright red lights of each exit sign;
embedded into my memory.
They are the light at the end of a sunless journey.

My plans aren't guaranteed, though
because I don't know what I'd do
if I were to ever see your face again.
I think that'd I run.

It wasn't until today; 6 months later,
that I wondered why I've been looking
for the person that frightens me the most.

So I won't look at the trucks that I pass as I drive.

I don't care if you're in them.

i wish i could open my front door and meet you again for the first time. we’d be a little bit kinder and a little more understanding. the light you see me in wouldn’t be amongst the clouds. i’d believe the things you say and you’d say the things you feel. we’d move the fence that guards our heart
to the house on the corner. when we unlock the front door, we’d know it’s the one. there our kids would grow up and the dogs would roam free. i’d fall asleep nestled in your arms and awake to reality and to a you i’ve already known.

thin lines
uneven eyes
white lies
in summertime
drinks in that old bar
honest words won’t get us far
two rounds
and then a third
stumbling on our every word
blissful nightfall
scolding time
the thief of memory
hands intertwine
still remains
a void to fill
a few steps closer
i hope you will

my anxiety
is talking
raising its voice
louder than ever before
sending a message
itches
overtaking
my body
i claw at the skin
covering
my bones
there is nothing there
but i am listening to you,
anxiety
trying to tell me
something is wrong
but you must be mistaken
nothing is wrong,
anxiety
only nothing is right
so please contain yourself,
anxiety
these internal scars
are enough
i hear you,
anxiety
but i need silence,
anxiety