You cannot find what you are seeking in the arms of another.
You cannot cuddle or **** your way into peaceful oblivion.
You have to carve the chair in which you sit.
You have to make it comfortable.
To make it fit you.
Where your legs are not pressed and remain restless.
One where your back does not feel heavy with the weight of your head.
Only you can mold something to suit your bones.

I wonder if I’ll be a mom.
I wonder if I’d be a good one.
I wonder if that mole on my arm should be checked out.
I wonder what I’d look like with lip filler.
I wonder what my friends value about me the most.
I wonder if they all think I’m a good friend.
I wonder what it would take to just force everyone to switch to electric vehicles and if oil money is the only real thing that’s been stopping it.
I wonder what it feels like to bring someone home for Christmas I’m really excited about.
I wonder if I’ll ever have that feeling.

I keep waiting for the shoe to drop.
I can’t believe you like me. My brain won’t let me.
Maybe it’s evolution of thought.
Self preservation from it’s previous losses.
I discount everything that’s happened.
Looking for signs to prove my doubt.
To not become hopeful because it can’t be true.
A guy like you would be too good to be true.

I am more happy around him than without him.
Despite his half-affection.
It’s not that he’s not trying, or not being nice.
He cuddles me and buys me flowers-
But that doesn’t conceal the way his eyes don’t whisper I love you anymore.

I still believe in us.
I still believe we’ll make it.
I catch glimpses of him coming back to me.
I know I can be his home if he’ll let me.

It’s not my fault I love you so.
You made me like this.
It’s not my fault you were burned by another.
I cannot erase those scars, but I promise I am cool to the touch.
I do not want to disconnect.
Don’t make me.
I can go on without you and I’ll be fine.
Maybe that would be easier.
But I don’t want easier.
I don’t want to stop loving you.

And so it all comes back.

Every wrinkle in your squinted eyes when you smiled towards me.
Every Laugh we shared.
The long talks and nights under the stars.
Every absent conversation afterward.
Every Blank Stare.
Every night with a tear stained pillow wishing you were there.

The reasons I adored you.
And the reasons we left.
The reasons I care and the reasons I'm pretending I don't.
They flooded in with the remembrance that hung in your gaze.
Everything I had erased has now come back.
I remember you now.

I wish I could forget.

I got to the point where I didn’t have enough self-respect to get out of it for myself.

But I did it for my daughter.

Let me explain.

I loved a guy. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. And I’m not sure if it’s one of those loves that can be replicated.

But like most crazy loves we were toxic and our highs were in the clouds and our lows were in hell.

We did things.
We both did things.
That were not ok.

After we ended it.
He ****-shamed me.  

He called me easy.
Worthless.
A notch on a belt.

It was awful.
It was cruel.
It was All said in anger.

After time went on we reconciled. He apologized for what he said. He tried to make amends. He’d call me and say things to **** me back into this chaos of us.

I wanted to go back.
I still want to go back sometimes so ******* bad that it eats at my soul.

But I don’t.

And I don’t do it because of my fierce self-love. I wish I could say I do.

I wish I dig my heels in and look into the mirror and give myself a fierce talk and I’m good.

But sometimes that’s not enough.

When it’s not.
I do it for my daughter.

Because I will not allow her to have a father who has ****-shamed her mom.

I will not allow her to have a sexist father, who thought less of a woman because of the number of people she chose to have *** with.

I will not sit on her bedside when she’s crying over a boy and tell her she deserves to be treated better when I know I chose I did not.

I will not be the coward that tells her to be strong while gritting my teeth to suppress the memories of abuse I have endured.

I will sit on her bedside.
Look her dead in the eye and tell her, honestly.

I have been there before.
I left.
I’m better for it.

I decided to raise the bar for all women when I took a stand for what was unacceptable and she can and should continue to raise that bar.

In that moment. It will be worth it.

Let your mind go, wander, be free they say. Up to the trees where the blue birds sing.
Up high above this roof all problems will evaporate into the smell of cedar and pines.
Stop thinking too much is they say, but then they mention things I need to think.
Be free like the wind that rushes through these mountains they say, but their eyes hold me with chains.

If something triggers an unexpected love-struck memory quick enough, my heart still skips a beat.

It forgets he isn’t real.
He never was the man I fell in love with.

Run run run just as fast as you can
You can’t catch me
I’m
Chasing after my next win.
While the enthusiasm I have for my current venture soaks in slowly like syrup into the cedar floor.
Why do I love to run so much?
Why can’t I be happy at a truce?
Why can’t I stand in resolve at the finish line?
Why does the finish line never feel like the real finish line?
There must be another right?
This can’t be it?... Right?

Live your life as if there is no man of your dreams.
Live your life as if you will never marry or have kids.

Provide for yourself and make the lifestyle you want alone.
Don't expect anyone to come save you.

That's what men do.

They don't wait for anything or anyone.
Neither should you.

One of my favorite quotes is from an old guru.

"God dwells in you, as you."

AS you.

God dwells in you as yourself.
Exactly the way you are.

We are earthly bodies. Constricted by time, flesh and resources.

But, there is something we can do that heavenly bodies cannot.

We can feel the Earth. Put our hands in the dirt. Hug each other.

God works through our hands to feel the Earth.

Be kind to it and all of its creatures.

If your eyes were the Atlantic Ocean-
No matter how strong the ship.
Or how accurate the navigation system.
I’d still get lost.

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever love someone the same as they love me.
Will it always be too much or not enough or somewhere in between?
I'm not sure why I have it wrong time and time again.
But I always end up feeling lonely or want them more as just a friend.
Will someone ever love me like I love them?
Will we ever walk down the same path and not have to pretend?
I'm not sure why I have these vices but my grandpa I think had them too. I found poems he wrote on a typewriter, back in '62.
They weren't about love but they rhymed in a way that showed he hurt. If I could only know the memories that lay in his body behind his tobacco smoke-infused shirt.

Thinking about packing makes me realize how much I am going to miss this place.
It feels like a little death leaving what has been home for 5 months.
I’m aware this may be an end to us.
To the winter/spring romance that felt so easy.
To our friend group, the six of us, skiing all day and partying all night at Pete’s.
To the dinners we cooked in this tiny kitchen with two working burners.
To being the big spoon.
To showering together despite the **** water pressure.
To waking up with my head on your chest and feeling so at ease.
I don’t want it to end.
I hope it doesn’t.
But I also won’t try to force anything.
What we have is too good to end in strain.
If it has to end, I’d rather it end as it came.
Easy, out the front door with a smile on our faces as we laugh one last time at one of your dumb ******* jokes.

The first morning we woke up together
& I looked over to see your hand interlocked within mine.

I knew you had me.

I read a poem that said,

“Find me where happiness doesn’t feel like a false spring.”

I think that’s when you know you’re in love.

You are no longer looking for the storm.
The other shoe to drop.
The reality check.

You’re all in.
Fully abandoning any thought of snow.

I guard myself from feeling because I don’t want the hurt.

I keep myself from falling because I’m afraid of the bruises.

Doubt
So easy to say.
So hard to get past.
I've always had a little bit of it reflected inwardly because I've never been able to attain the appearance I wanted. I've never been quite thin enough. My hair has never been quite long enough. My skin never quite clear enough. And because of this its caused me to doubt other areas. If I can't get in peak physical shape, what makes me think I can become financially independent?  Get a good job?  Start my own business? If I can't control something as simple as a complexion, hair follicle or calorie, how do I think I can take on the outside world?

It's the doubt that eats you.
It's the doubt that tucks you into your grave with the could haves because you cancelled yourself out.
You're problem is not in your thighs or uneven eyebrows. Your problem is you think they're your problem.

Stop taking yourself out.
You are worthy.
You are so. worth. loving.

If you are the sun, then i want to be the moon and reflect the light that shines from you.
If you are sand, I want to be the sea and run myself all over you wild and free.
If you are coffee then I want to be the cream that makes you sweeter.
If you are a candle, I want to be the wick that burns down on the inside of you.
If you are a page, then I want to be the ink that gives you a voice.

There are ghosts of you.
In words that don’t matter.
Ones I forget until I say them in a moment of absent mindedness and realize I do because of you.

I feel like saying I love you but I haven’t yet.

Sometimes I say it in my head after saying good night.

I double checked my text to you last night to make sure I didn’t accidentally let it slip. I felt so strongly I just knew my thoughts could have leaked onto paper.

I feel like saying I love you, but I haven’t yet.

No one is immune.
No drug will cure it.
No philosopher can properly describe the disease.
No scholar can logic away the infection.
It gets us all, eventually.

I keep thinking if I let myself feel it fully it will eventually stop. Doesn’t it have to eventually stop?

I like being really tired before going to sleep.
It feels good to fight one last thing before bed, even if that thing is me.

She always had a way of standing above her circumstances.
Even in the way she dressed, it was like she was going somewhere better later. Yet above her logic and even above her poise she held within her a jar of emotion locked inside for the one worthy. The jar was hidden and no one knew just all that hid underneath the soles of her Jimmy Choo's. And my God she was brilliant, and my God she could make it on her own; but she didn't want to.

There moments when my chest feels heavy and weightless at the same time. Where it feels like it is going to suffocate me or burst out of my chest. Those moments when I'm stressed in a way that is utterly helpless and hopeful.

That's all I seem to be when I'm around you, helpless... But hopeful.

Why is it that with every breakup since
I think of you
I cry at the loss of you

Here's to all the women who have been **** shamed.

Here's to all the women who have been told that somehow a ***** changes who you are.

Here's to all the women who have been called easy, a notch on a belt.

Here's to all of the women who have been told their value is held in their virginity.

Here's to all of the women who said back:
WHAT THE **** are you talking about?  

Then rose up and proceeded to slay in every area of life.

You be the church, I’ll be the steeple.
I’ll shout my love for you to all of the people.
Let it be seen from blocks away.
Let no winding road or large oak hide my exaltation of you.
I can not pack you away with the ***** in the basement.
The hymns must be sung.
Let us rise.

I put a hoodie on when I’m high.

I have a hoodie on.
And I’m thinking about you.

At first I loved you too much.
It was too much because you didn’t love me back.
I don’t really know how I talked myself into stopping.
I think I finally became at peace with knowing and loving you as a human.
But accepting you weren’t MY human.

Can I ask you a question?

Yeah sure.

No like one of those serious questions that most people never bring up on dates.

Okay.

What are you looking for in a future husband?

Well, first off, none of that typical stuff, like giving me roses. Not every girl loves roses. And if you give me those I know you don't know me. I'd rather have the purple and pink flocks that grow wild on the side of the road.

And if you're going to buy me jewelry, don't. I'd rather go to a destination than get a diamond.

And I don't want you to say I love you without your eyes speaking it too.

And don't complement me on how I'm pretty. Because if the only thing you can find positive about is is that I'm pretty then I've failed. I want to be so much more than pretty.

And if we're in public don't think you have to always touch me or claim me as your own. No insecurity. You should know I'm loyal without me showing physical affection infront of everyone.

But most of all, I want a man who I can believe in, root for, support and have the courage to not limit me to a wifely role but take me as his companion, his partner in crime.

Never below, never above, beside.

I am sure of you because I’ve never needed perfect moments with you.
I don’t need to stand underneath a mistletoe or fireworks to kiss you.  
I don’t need a romantic evening to want you.
I don’t need a weekend of activities to enjoy   you.
I don’t need a good joke to laugh at you.
I am sure of you because of the way I feel grocery shopping with you.
I am sure of you because of the way I feel cleaning the house with you.
I am sure of you because of the way I feel disagreeing with you.
I am sure of you because of how much I love the mundane things of life with you.

If I am anything, I am persevering.

Snap memories open up videos from five years ago.
It’s from your birthday in San Fran.
Five years ago today I was so in love with you.
Five years ago I thought you were forever.
Five years later I’m recovering from the heartbreak of another man on your birthday.
I forgot it was your birthday.

Is it bad how good you make me feel?

Is it bad how good you make me feel?
Is it odd to feel this normal?
Is it dangerous how safe I am in your arms?
Is it bad I'm falling in love with you?
Because if so I'm bad.

that's it. that's the story.

Your eyes inadvertently traced the details of my face, as if you were studying a map you couldn't understand, or trying to find where a piece went in an extravagant puzzle. I don't know if you were consciously aware of your eyes actions, or my hearts reactions to your gaze. But when you smiled at me with that twinkle in your eye, my heart is instantly set ablaze. It's not that I love you. Honestly I don't. And it's not that I want to be with you, because I refuse, I won't. But there's something about your presence that can't help but set me on fire. Why is your affection something I greatly desire?

I keep hopping on planes hoping I’ll lose my feelings in the cities I’m leaving.

Milk
Eggs
Red wine
Parm cheese
Hands held
Your embrace
Half-awake kisses