Morning woke me with aching fingers and the burdensome weight of you heavy on my mind. Holding my guitar and fumbling over every note, I imagine you. Your eyes gazing over me in a crowd, as if I was invisible - until the music effortlessly plays from my fingertips, singing each word in harmony, my heart on my sleeve. I imagine you…noticing me.

Hours have passed and the sun has long left, replaced by a cold breeze and a dark starless sky.

I lay my guitar down beside me, my fingers numb and calloused, realizing that somewhere between morning and now I had lost you, the crowd, …the imagined moments. But, in the midst of the music, the repetitive strums and voicing my soul alongside every chord, I found myself.

*Tonight, I will sleep peacefully

I stood there humbly with my head down
looking at my feet
I felt as you took me apart piece by piece
I patiently waited as you analyzed me.
I listened quietly while you told me all of the reasons I wasn’t good enough.
I listened when you told me you couldn’t respect me, my love.
I let you compare me to your ideas,
to the people you know.
I carried that hurt and I didn’t let it show.
I ****** up my pride and convinced myself that this is just what you need to do,
And one day you will see that I really was enough for you.

I realized I’m doing it again.
Holding hands with my childhood friend.
Every time I see you I am filled with anxiety.
As long as I love you, I will always bleed.

"Life is so fragile. Love when there is love. Don’t mistake the moon as the preface to dawn. Sometimes there are only stars…"

I hate the four letter word
That springs from mouths as quickly and effortlessly as hello
I hate the restlessness it brings
To nights where loneliness fills your sheets wrapping you in its arms
I hate the overwhelming hope that shines blinding us to imperfections
The way it teases your mind making you think everything before was worth it
Because it brought you to this moment
I hate the way it tricks you into believing it will never ever leave you
And as swiftly as it swept you up from under your feet it drops you in some place that appears to be home but comes with none of the feeling
I hate it - passionately
Yet so desperately I want nothing more than this word we call “love”

what is it about you that has me constantly wondering how your world is at any precise or very imprecise moment

you are consistent in that sense

you seem to sprint through my mind
long enough for me to acknowledge it is you, but not long enough for me to figure out what the reason behind it is

or the copious knowledge of your day to day to be able to pinpoint what it is that you could be doing at that moment…

drives me mad.... you, the thought of you, the realization of the thought of you...

Did I tell you?

I’m kind of quiet… no, really, I am. You should see me around people I don’t know… ha, yes, I know you don’t believe me. I talk my socks off around you. But you’re different. You already know the contents of me… I mean, you may not have read every page in detail, but you get the rough draft. Not many people get that.

“Man, what a stuck-up *****,” they say. “Miss goody two-shoes is too good for us… not all of us are rich like you,” they say.

Oh, how I wish I was any of those things… it wouldn’t sting when they mistook me for anything but the plains. But instead, they see skylines and frosted mountains. I am not as complex. I am not as breathtaking. I am not such a climb.

It’s funny. I have it together—it appears from the outside looking in. On the inside, I’m so tired. I know you know this—but they don’t.

They don’t see 14-hour days, 98-hour weeks, 5,784-hour years… of on-the-go, here-you-can-have-my-time, my peace, my arms, my legs, my soul.

They don’t see that. They don’t see me helping the family when they need food that week… and me not eating.

They don’t see my sore back, my restless nights, or the loneliness that follows endless hours.

I’m the one missing out… and they think I am better than them.

If they only knew how much I wished I could be more like them and less like me… how they are the morning skies… and I am merely a spectacle to their bold colors.

They’re outspoken, carefree, sociable… extroverted. I wouldn’t dare say a word.

I know even then they wouldn’t get me… not like you do.

I just sit back—quietly watching, listening, absorbing… an abused sponge from one too many passes on the burnt pan.

Ha, that’s me.

Still giving my all—in whatever pieces are left of me, trying to shine the world.

Silly I am.

I’m ready to get out of here… or find myself again, and stop smothering my heart.

It’s an out-of-control fire, and my day-to-day has become the dirt.

I think if I exhale in a week, you may just see smoke pouring from my lungs…

I’m burning out.

Can you tell?

Did I tell you?

I’m kind of quiet… no, really, I am. You should see me around people I don’t know…. Ha, yes, I know you don’t believe me… I talk my socks off around you. But, you’re different. You already know the contents of me… I mean, you may not have read every page in detail, but you get the rough draft. Not many people get that. Man, what a stuck up ***** they say… Miss goody two shoes is too good for us… Not all of us are rich like you they say. Oh, how I wish I was any of those things…it wouldn’t sting when they mistook me for anything but the plains, but instead they see skylines and frosted mountains. I am not as complex, I am not as breathtaking, I am not such a climb. It’s funny. i have it together - it appears from the outside looking in. On the inside, I’m so tired. I know you know this - but they don’t. They don’t see 14 hour days, 98 hour weeks, 5,784 hour years… of on the go, here you can have my time, my peace, my arms, my legs, my soul. They don’t see that. They don’t see me helping the family when they need food that week..and me not eating. They don’t see my sore back, my restless nights, or the loneliness that follows endless hours. I’m the one missing out… and they think I am better than them. If they only knew how much I wished I could be more like them and less like me…. how they are the morning skies… and I am merely a spectacle to their bold colors. They’re outspoken, care free, sociable, …extroverted. I wouldn’t dare say a word. I know even then they wouldn’t get me… not like you do. I just sit back - quietly, watching, listening, absorbing…an abused sponge from one too many passes on the burnt pan. Ha, that’s me. Still giving my all - in whatever pieces are left of me, trying to shine the world. Silly I am. I’m ready to get out of here… or find myself again, and stop smothering my heart. It’s an out of control fire and my day to day has become the dirt. I think if I exhale in a week you may just see smoke pouring from my lungs… I’m burning out. Can you tell?

Tonight we took a walk.
For a moment, we were soft—
our hearts let go of all the pain.
We remembered the way we used to sway, together.
Your hand—
the place my soul could curl up and rest.
When my heart touched yours,
and your arms held me—
for a moment, I could breathe.
I lay my head on your shoulder
and let the weight fall from my chest.
Just for a moment.

I listened to all the things you said.
It’s hard to forget.
One day you told me you loved me.
Last week, you said it was pretend.
I wish you didn’t wear those guards—
the armor I could never break.

Tonight, we took a walk.
And I found the man I loved.
You said you have learned to be gentle—
that you have grown.
But why did it take my pain—
all of my suffering—
before you chose to change?

Was it not enough
when I said it hurt?
Was it not enough
when I said it hurt?
Was it not enough?

Why did it take my absence
for you to become the man
I already believed you were?

“All I ever wanted
was to love you.”

Tonight, I lay in your arms
and made love to you.

God, I love you.
And I will never be enough
to save us.

My darling,
Your eyes look so weary.
My darling,
You are fading softly.

Three days you’ve been awake -
Boxing memories and keepsakes.
Taking on the world all on your own,
But i’m right here, you’re not alone

Let me bear all of this weight you keep.
Close your eyes love, let yourself sleep

He says he
loves me
but I
wish he would
make himself
stop
for there is
no life in me
to
love back.

I’ve bled
every cell
that pumped my
heart
and flowed
through my veins
into feeding
the memory of you.

There’s nothing left
of me
but a carcass
of shriveled
leathery skin
wrapped around
bone.

When I look at myself I wonder where I went
my thighs are too big
my stomach is soft
And my glow got lost somewhere under the flat roof, behind these blackout curtains

Who am I
Will I ever know beside him
Does he complete me
Does he just cover up what hurts
Does he just hurt me too much to go

Is this what cold feet feels like
I've dipped my toes
I've jumped in
And the river is flowing and pushing me through
And somehow I'm still clinging to warm breaths

For him?

Or just enough so I can pull myself out and run as hard as I can in the furthest direction from him
So I have a chance

What if he never touches me
In a way that doesn't need words

What if I go through life on his eggshells
Under his thumb
Under those eyes that go from soft to rigid stones

Like a water color
Beautiful and undefined
Bleeding into the threads
Of his love

Could I find you in everything?  
Would you look at the skies as I do?  
Would you see all their shades of gray, and blue?  
Above rooftops and trees,  
Above homes filled with families,  
Would you see all for what they are?  
A symphony of love at the center of hearts?

Could I find you in my hands?  
In the calluses and soft touch,  
Would you be harsh, gentle, and just enough?  
Could I find you in the words I carry in my palms,  
Flowing rivers of thoughts that sing like a song?

Could I find you in the mornings,  
When I wake before the sun,  
When life is love and love is life,  
And you are the only one?  
Could I find you in my coffee,  
The way it warms me softly  
And leaves its taste upon my lips,  
The ones I wish you would kiss?

Could I find you in my shoes or my dress,  
Or the table beside my chair?  
Could I find you on the couch,  
Or in the stillness of the air?

Could I find you in my arms,  
Where I imagine I hold you close?  
My very sweet dear friend,
Is it wrong to want you the most?  

Of all the night skies I’ve gazed upon,  
Your light is the most true.
You are the moon above my sea,
Your glow dancing upon waves set free.
I could find you in everything,
In all that I feel and see
Turning this scattered life of mine
into beautiful poetry

For now, I’m going to stop.  
I have a lot to do.  
But just for a moment,  
All was lost and everything was you.

(To be revisited, one day)

"you cannot catch a wildflower"
       he says.
             "you are my wildflower."

I am lost inside myself
my personal paradise
my own euphoric insanity
could i be as manic as I sometimes believe
to feel as if my soul lives in the earth beneath my feet
and stretches from the root of every tree to the tips of their leaves
exhaling me into the sky to float with the wind from meadow to meadow
I stand with arms stretched
spinning in circles like a tiny tornado
grazing the tips of each blade of grass with my fingertips
dancing with my pointed toes upon dewy petals
breathing in the heavens of the earth
feeling as if the sun was shining from within me
my world could not exist without this insatiable lust for life
you cannot hold me and shelter me under the dark roof you flourish in
I am a wildflower
I need the meadows, the sky, the sun, the air, the freedom

To focus on the life
that existed
And not the passing
How does one do this
While keeping sanity
For I believe I must remove
My mind from behind my eyes
To not think that tomorrow
I cannot reach out to you
And touch your flesh

In between dreaming and the harsh awareness of reality,
my hand found the place where you used to lay,
brushing against the perfectly unmoved sheets,
making its way to the perfectly
untouched pillow.

Eyes opened, gazing, sinking as reality set in.
You weren’t just up early,
walking the dog,
making us coffee,
…
waiting to wake me with a kiss to the forehead.

My knuckles turned as white as the sheets
as they clenched the place that once was you,
holding onto whatever they could of your memory,
believing if I squeezed hard enough,
I could get the last drop of you out—

just for this morning.

Feeling weightless
And heavy
Feeling love and
Bitterness
Feeling nothing and
Everything
And far too vulnerable