We spent the day in saltwater and heat.
And the sun gifted me with all the kisses we could not share
And left a lasting blush upon my face,
that will remind me of you
and the way that you make me feel.
This warmth that you give me.
And the pleasant pain in my cheeks from my stubborn smile.
You placed tiny pebbles, one by one, in the nook of my back.
They’re light - like you.
Easy. Comfortable. Playful.
You are a pure joy.
And life is sunny with you.
Here is a secret I’ve kept for over four years.
There was a stack of letters I wrote you with the same title.
But over time I stopped writing.
Over more time, I tossed those letters out.
But now you are back in my mind,
and you hold a new space.
After too many failed relationships,
three people who have used me for their own desires,
and one specifically bitter heartbreak,
I see you in this new light.
I know with absolute certainty that you were my very first love.
I also know that you are the only person I have ever loved so purely and authentically.
So much so that this love for you remains with me still today.
I carry it in my heart, in secret.
But today I heard a song and I realized something else.
There are songs I have dedicated only to you.
Only to this innocent and pure love that was between us.
Never could I have given these songs to any other lover,
for the sheer reason that they have all crumbled and fell away.
But not you.
And my love, I have grown.
And I have journeyed so far from where you left me,
to realize that I will never again have you as my own.
And it is a reality I’ve learned to accept.
But those songs will remain yours…
Unless and until I can find someone who is truly capable of the love you give -
the love your soul has always readily available.
Someone loving and kind and pure-hearted.
For now they remain yours.
this really is a letter series i would write to my very first love, about 4 years ago when my heart was first broken. It isn't a poem by any means, but i needed a place to store it. to this day no one has been able to match that love.
things fall together
and things fall apart
like words fall on paper
and transform into art
and sometimes the best explanation
is in the hands of God
and the reasons we look for
are far and abroad
and the heartache we feel
cannot be captured in poems
and the sickness and anger
is best left unspoken
i'm hanging on for coffee kisses
and sun-soaked mornings,
with frothy wonder at my fingertips.
hot steam rises,
and vivid colors slowly dissipate;
but my dear,
you sweeten those kisses with your smile.
presently, you're far,
and the mornings are hot and stagnant.
a cup of joe only gets me so far...
but i'm holding on for those coffee kisses that keep me going.
those coffee kisses and sun-soaked morning by your side.
we kissed on december 10th, 2018 around 11 am after a fire alarm and breakfast.
Two souls underneath a black night, cold concrete beneath, and a freezing river far below. Our souls face troubles of their own, and our bodies shiver in the cold and with the nerve it takes to release a small amount of our very selves. But here, I am warm by your side, and my starry tears are a comfort as they reflect the twinkling sky and bring life back into my cheeks. The stars were guardians and intent listeners that night with you. And the chill of the air was our agent; as the flumes of incense will carry prayers to the highest heavens, so the wind would take our breath and transform it into misty whispers, whisking them away to the lights of the sky. Now if those prayers (unrecognized as so) were mighty enough, do you think it possible that those listeners became messengers? For as we lay shivering, we also were shaking under the weight of the universe, and as one star would flee the sky, it was as if our burden grew lighter and each wispy sigh of sorrow became instead a stream of laughter, lifting our spirits and brightening the sky above us.
And here. This was my moment of revision.
Can life be but spring dresses and pomegranates on my lips?
A slight scent of roses and honey?
A simple breeze?
Can skin be soft and flawless, and soaking in the glow of the April sun?
Can I wander alone? or perhaps... with you?
Then a constant showering, where the sky turns dark and the flowers grow.
Let's stay inside, veil the windows, watch the lightning.
The sheets are warm, and so am I - safe in your arms.
It's merely a concept of being content, a concept to consider.
And with the sun, the spring dress goes on.
A blanket in a meadow.