when i smell the salt in the air and hear the waves crashing on the shore i feel your presence. you are in every cloud in the sky and in every molecule of rushing water. you are the sun beating on my back. you speak through the kind passer-by waving hello. you are in my mother telling me to watch for jellyfish and my sister begging to play frisbee. you are the sand between my toes and the salt on my lips. you are everywhere. you are present. you are now.

i'm good without you.
you're free to see people you'd have to pay me to see
i'd like to say i've moved on
but i don't think i was ever there.
so be wild,
take lots of photos
prove to everyone that i mean nothing to you.
i'll be laughing alone in my room
at reruns of 90s tv shows.
*** i don't have to prove anything to anyone
i am happy
i am alone
and i am happy.

Anyone who thinks
You don't smile with your eyes
Has never had to fake joy

i don't know what i'm doing
it is bad bad bad
but it feels so
good good good
it's like old times
but old times are what made me like this
because that is what they are - old
you let us grow stale
i know i will look back on this
and scold myself on my stupidity
because you left me once
and you will leave me again
but the worst part is
i know it
and
i am allowing it

I decided to drink coffee each time I was sad
but now I find myself shaky and jittery
I cant hold my hands still
because the caffeine took over my body
and left my soul where it was

i handed you my heart with eager eyes
you gently hold it and it feels warm
(i think it's love)
you start to grasp it more firmly so it hurts
(i think it's discipline)
and you squeeze and you squeeze
until it shatters in your palm
(i thought it was an accident)
but you just brush your hands
down your faded old blue jeans
(the ones i picked out)
and walk away.
when it finally hits me,
what you did
i laugh
because although you crushed me,
you have remnants of me embedded in your hand.
when i finally begin to pick up the pieces
i see your rugged, callused hands extend once more.
not a scratch, not a scar.
i gathered all i could
but you will always have parts of me
down the the sides of your faded old blue jeans.

the thing with feelings
(especially mine)
is
they are always fluctuating.
i need you, i hate you.
i want you, i despise you.
never the same, never consistent.
but,
what i feel for you
is more than a thought,
a desire,
a feeling.
i love you
and that will never change,
never fluctuate,
never disappear.
know this:
i love you
as a verb
not a feeling.

you've allowed your walls to be built so high
they started growing ivy
and although there's beauty in those vines
i'd love to see the gardens blooming within