when hands reach to touch you
may they reach for you
not hoping to find anything
but you
may they reach for you knowing
that you cannot fill empty spaces
and that you
do not have any empty spaces within you
may they reach for you
gently, in love,
with wonder at the wonder
that you are

i don’t want to write you a poem
i don’t want to leave behind
this
word
trail
i don’t want them to know i loved you
i don’t want them to know how i loved you
because i loved you
like the night loves the light
and i loved you
like the earth loves the rain
i don’t want these words
to lead
you
back
to
me
but i don’t want these words anymore
so, i am sending this poem to you
without a return address
let these words just be words
let them only be that
this is not a love letter
this is not goodbye
(i already said that to you)
this
is
me
letting
you
go

for you
i'll be the sky
i'll wear the stars on my skin
and let you wish upon my light

i dream of new york city.
but not only new york city.
i dream of chicago, of san francisco, of madrid;
i dream of any city big enough to hold me
and the wildness i carry.
i dream with a love greater than myself,
a love big enough to wrap me in its arms,
a love with grace to forgive my faults.
i dream of the words 'you're beautiful'
sang to me like a song, written in love letters,
tangled in poetry.
i dream of breakfast dates, of long walks,
of sweet and salty lips together.
i dream of finding myself
of getting lost
and the joy of being found again,
i dream of the words i have yet to write,
the stories i will tell,
the days i don't know.

vulnerability is a risk.
it might break you.
but through the cracks is where the light shines.
vulnerability is a game
and no matter how much you lose
you will always win.
vulnerability might wound you,
but it will heal you, too.
don't run away from this,
don't walk away from it.
come closer, dip your toes in this water.
know that this is how you grow,
how you love,
how you become into what you will be.

when i think about the fact
that you and i
share the same sky
the distance between us
isn't so large
and maybe you and i
share more than
just the same sky.

maybe love is in new york city.
maybe love is in paris.
maybe love is here.
maybe love has seen me
and secretly thinks i'm beautiful.
maybe love isn't as far from reach as i think it is.
maybe love plays the guitar or the piano
and has written songs about me
and the way my hair dances in the wind.
but maybe love is in new york city
waiting for me to visit.
waiting for me to take the train
waiting for me to make eye contact
while he sits on the opposite side of me.
maybe love is in new york city
or rome
or spain.
maybe love writes poetry.
maybe love loves someone else right now.
maybe love will find me in five years
or in two months.
but love is out there.
maybe in new york city.