When he comes around, my girlfriend crumples in pain. Period.

Falling in love the first time is easy,
you don't understand the risk.
It's like,
learning how to swim as a child,
you're unaware that you're unafraid of the unknown.
Once you're an adult, and understand the concept of how to swim,
and the possibility of drowning,
you realize,
it's terrifying.

Grandpa loved angels
Kept them scattered throughout his room, his house, his life
On everything from pictures, to figurines, to trinkets
Alissa found a penny with an imprint of wings with the year of her birth on it shortly after he died
How strange, we all thought
Grandpa had a lot of things,
Luck charms, knick-knacks, practical jokes he carried just in case
He kept his humor in his back pocket

I visit my grandmother in her home that used to be theirs
She is now as vacant as the Detroit winters are cold; the ten years without him have stripped her of any warmth
I think a part of her left when he did

I enter his study and look through every drawer, discovering a part I neglected to understand when it was present
I never showed much interest in anything he told me when he was still around
I only really knew of the things he kept in drawers, cabinets, on shelves
Everything he owned is as constant as it ever was
His belongings remain untouched as if he hasn’t been gone for over a decade
I feel too much alive in this office of a dead man

I run curious fingers over the bindings of books, stopping to pull at Dickinson, a faded collection of poetry inked with flowers on the front cover
I remember the dictionary the size of my six-year-old palm that intrigued me so greatly; the ability to fit so many words into such a small area was nothing short of fascinating
It is the one physical memory I took home with me after the funeral
I had wanted it always
I now picture it hiding in the back of my drawer in my childhood bedroom where I know it still is

On his desk there are so many key chains, bills from another generation, maps, postcards, watches
So many things I am not sure what to call them
I am not sure about a lot but
Grandpa loved angels
Angels and ***** jokes
One to keep you safe and the other to make you laugh
I keep both with me always,
Just in case.

The Earth smiles in flowers.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson*

A year ago
I ceased to grow
Because I was stuck in your shade

And now I have roots,
And the length of me shoots
Deep into the soil.

I found stability in me
And strived to be
More than a girl someone could love.

The Earth smiles
In flowers for miles,
And my love grew a field.

I grew far and wide,
For I have nothing to hide-
I bloomed with patience and time.

A year ago,
I ceased to grow,
And now I'm here to state

That growing is slow,
But so long you know
That for good things to cultivate

You have to take an age-old
Tired and true approach,
And simply let the time pass.

Dear, you just have to *wait.

Cry,
her eyes succumbing to their selfish demand
which they so often did
her sobs old news,
but a more definite pastime
Than numbness.
Driving invalidated by a lack of destination
Stop signs blurring
In salt water, a stew of ******  Christian music
disingenuous howls louder than thoughts, and
Radio static filling spaces like confusion
, "I feel broken", she informed the rear-view mirror
For lack of better words

Her acidic tears dissolved the soft armor
Of her twins in the back seat.
Who added their mother's grief
to the bruises on their insides.
And mourned the cigarette smoke
She swore would never be there

So the sad little Saturn was weighty
and drove ruts in the pavement
with dysfunctional hurt
and she was subject to trite metaphors
Which she spewed at an alarming rate

For she never got rid if
The ****-tinted glasses
That were taped to her face.