There was a loud pop,
Then there was chaos
Like the very word "silence" had ceased its existence
For no other reason
But to be lusted after.
And the man with blood flowing from his head
Lying face down on the pavement
Saw not his own life in a flash
But that of a daughter he never knew
Lived out a full 90 year lifetime.
Whom he was able to love with a love
That could only stem from absolute
Deafening
Chaos.

Seeking a gentleman who gets lost in thoughts
Feels everything and holds onto nothing.
Bachelor must tolerate banjos, books, and bare-feet.
A writer is preferred, but not exclusively.
I'm seeking a companion who loves tea and coffee in the afternoons
Must be willing to gamble with the suggested shows on netflix
And suggested artists on pandora.
Bonus points if music moves him in directions he didn't know existed.
Seeking a gentleman whose heart is made entirely of love and passion
With a reasonable head
And an unapologetic twinkle in his eyes.
I warn you that I love sunburns and tank-tops
Rain makes me sad, and I own a blue Snuggie named Ralf.
I laugh too loud at lame jokes about muffins and bars
Cry desperately in movies
And am driven to push boundaries.
***** makes me loose
I'm terrified of fourteen-year-old girls and spiders.
And I consider 90 degrees to be jacket weather.
I'm seeking a gentleman with an empty hand and a full heart
That I can love with all that I have
Laugh with, cry with, dream with.
You can find me in the words on this page.
I'll be waiting.

I went to goodwill and took off my tights
Just to wear someone else's pants in a closet.
The shoes I bought were perfect but petite,
they didn't match my outfit anyway.
So I walked through the fire in heels and a dress
I got runs in my tights and blisters on my feet.
My chest littered with bug-bites from sleeping on the sidewalk.
Then we drank coffee and tea until 11,
getting phone calls from rehab and holding each other
Laughing because it was finally nighttime in hell
And our straws, and the stars, were all glowing.

There is one American word
To describe the relationship
Between a mother and a daughter
A pair of lovers
A young boy and his puppy
A CEO and his paycheck
The sun and the moon
Me and these words.
It's an American fallacy to believe
That what can be bonded by blood
Can be consummated in the bedroom
Or born of thought
What can die in a moment
Is immortal, infinite generations old.
There is no one word with shoulders powerful enough for that kind of weight.

I can tell you that the caged bird sings
Slow, sad songs about her wings.
Notes, like tears her crying brings
As through the air her sorrow rings.
Caged birds are told they cannot fly
No matter how much they wish or try
They're told to kiss their dreams goodbye
And are left to sing and wonder why.
This caged bird escapes to a ray of sun
Just her, a moment, if only one
She sits until her crying's done
And sings and flies for her, for none.
I don't know why the caged bird sings
Of flight and freedom and other things.
She's forever doomed, her heart stings
For the hope to which her singing clings.

We're not soulmates
I'm pretty sure.
Not meant to be
Not meant to hold
Not meant to love each other.
But that can't stop me from dreaming
Of dancing with you
To Ray Lamontagne songs in the moonlight
And growing old with your hand in mind.
We're not soulmates,
I'm pretty sure,
But that won't stop me from loving you
With everything I am.

I looked into her eyes and knew
She was looking at an angel
And reaching for the hand
of a soldier none of us could see.
Sometimes all that's left to do
Is close your eyes and wait
In memories and selfish tears
For mortality to softly return.
And while we sit around a hospital bed
sipping coffee out of plastic cups, waiting.
She's resting on the ***** of forever
Feasting at the table of the almighty.