He was the one person
who held storms in his fingertips,
and still touched you with the softness
of rain in springtime.

I kiss you with more guilt
than I thought
I was capable of.

You kiss me with more forgiveness
than I thought
I was capable of.

2010
learned to swim in an ocean filled with
jellyfish that didn’t sting,
seashells,
and more hands than i needed to hold
in a party that of more than four,
our brand new family strung together with salt water.
this time, everything is for the last time.

2011
this
is the
first ever time
my decisions are the
children of orphaned thoughts.
they swing across canyons of hope
attached to no rope.
reality is a maze with no roadmap.

2012
there is so much lesser now, than there used to be,
there is also so much more now, than there used to be.
somewhere nestled inbetween is satisfaction.

2013
today, my heart joined the gym.
the mission? twenty seconds of bravery.

2014
mission accomplished.
twenty minutes of bravery,
here i come.

2015
there was a time before.
there will be a time after.
from today, there is no going back.

2016
the trek has led to
an obstacle course.
let the games begin.

when i was young,
i only lived
between the pages of a book
between the words of a sentence
between Privet Drive and Baker Street
between bookstores and libraries
where I did not have to speak
to make friends;
where I made friends
who would not leave,
where I could leave
and return to see
that nothing had changed;
nothing, except me,
but only a little.

now that i’m older
i’ve been twice
to the other side and back;
i think i’d also like to live
between time zones and skylines
between silken sheets on starry nights
between your fingers and your eyes,
where conversations are passports
to other worlds in
in other hearts beating
in other bodies;

if only for just a little.