I am walking, looking, searching around,
looking for truth I may have already found.

I keep asking questions,
I keep losing answers,

Am I strong for searching or weak for being blown off-course?
Should I have gripped more strongly on my long-held beliefs?

Is my fear rational or blind?
Am I Afraid of Something New or was I just Right All Along?

Is there something for feeling in knowing?
Can one trust their intuition?

I went on a date with my ex
A day after what was supposed to be our one year anniversary

It’s almost like it was a first date, that the timing said the clocks reset and it was all new

Everything was perfect, between the tears.

The sun was gentle enough to be warming as his touch, as his fingers danced over my back as we sat on a log, talking non-stop like making up for lost time, but feeling that no time had passed at all.

The wind was sweet and blew my hair just enough for him to brush it away, and his eyes were more beautiful than ever before, though lacquered in tears of longing.

Every silence was punctuated with an “I love you”, sometimes said, and sometimes just felt in the tightening of a hug.

Everything fit together just right, and there was no awkwardness between our bodies as they settled into their comfortable familiarity, his shoulder a perfect rest, and my waist a home for his arms, it was so perfect I almost didn’t feel it at all.

I can’t even write about our kisses, punctuating pauses like commas, illicit like a last cigarette.

Coming out of the conversation, nothing really changed.

Everything he said was perfect, and without a shred of begging or manipulation. Everything was said with deep love and care, but no pretension. No gesture was performative, no sentence rehearsed, but everything he said was the most beautiful poetry.

I knew that while we had both changed so much, although our paths crossed so sweetly, we still were going in different directions.

We walked through an unfamiliar park, somewhere we hadn’t been before, and as we walked back to go, I thought about paths crossing and looping. Maybe we’re on a little loop that will rejoin later, maybe we’re going to just keep getting further apart.

Sometimes I see a tree or a branch that makes me think maybe we’re on the same path again — maybe the wait is over — but I’ve never been here before. He’s never been here before.

We both know what we want (each other), there’s just still something in the way.

I’ll love you forever, and I will treasure today so dearly.

We can’t be together and we can’t really be friends, but I’m not sure how to be apart.

I’ve never really understood running away, but I sometimes feel like I could give it all up for you.

I know you would never ever ask me to, and that’s part of why I love you.

It's so very tempting to love,
even when a clear end is close at hand.
What if I just never reached for that clear end?
What if we just walked along forever, with the end forever close at hand?
If the distance between here and the end can be split in two and twice and thrice again, isn't the end an infinity away, even if near?

what if I never reached out for the end?
What if, instead, we just walked hand-in-hand, looking past the end, reaching around it for another rose?
What if that glinting little end floated along nearby, but never came between us?

Is there such thing as a "dealbreaker"?
Does it HAVE to be?

What is greater, what has more power over me? My desires, or my other desires?

If he's not right, does that very certainly make him wrong?

How inconvenient is awareness, and how very fleeting is bliss.

I wish I could turn a blind eye, but now I've thought about it too much.

It's so foolish to ignore a deadline, to procrastinate on heartbreak, but I so wish the Monday Morning of reality weren't so near.

the
rain
of pain

fell down
again

i feel the same
out in the lane

sent from a place safe
to a place


unknown





unknown i am
to myself
who am i
where am i

i feel unknown and all alone


the raindrops have their friends,
not alone in their despair


i am but a lonely rainbow.
alone
but
glorious

It’s hard to write happy –
It just gets sappy.

I can write sad and I can write mad,
But my poems about you are just so BAD.

I think about you and am filled with joy!
Fancy that! All this for a BOY!

Together, forever, wherever, ALAS!
This feeling, I think, will never pass.

I like you, I like you, I like you a lot!
Our future, I fear, I am beginning to plot!

We’ll get married and say our I do,
Pack up our things, and go somewhere new,

You’ll be a good father, I’m sure that you will,
You’ll hold me tightly, even when I’m ill.

We’ll have a child (a boy or a girl),
Our lives will spin into quite a whirl.

They’ll grow up like you, thoughtful and kind,
A flaw in them I shall never find.

We’ll have our fights,
Hushed ones in the nights,

I’ll won’t find the words for why I love you,
But I never knew why, I just knew that I knew.

But perhaps with space, or maybe just your face,
I’ll be reminded of your goodness and grace.

But maybe, just maybe, when we’re old and gray,
I’ll get it, I'll get it, I’ll have found a way.

I’ll say--

I cough when I lie,
it's like the idea of deceiving you is sickening.

I don't make eye contact when I exaggerate,
I don't want to be able to tell if you see through the story I'm spinning.

I want so desperately for you to see me and love me for who I am, not for whatever picture of myself I paint.

I feel like I see you, the real you, when you focus on something or someone else and forget to compose yourself for me.

I wish I could just say "I see you, and you're beautiful".

I crave authenticity, yet keep authoring falsity.

Forwards, backwards, anywhere,
imperceptible -extremely everywhere.
All powerful - an enemy or friend?
Time keeps running to my end.
It's all around and not here.
It's pushing us forward and never back
the time is pressing.
time is gravity - it's pulled down and pulling us.
time is gravity - it's dependent on space but untouchable.
time is gravity - it's serious, but unproven.
We know time but not of it.
We think in time and are bound to its chains.
We cannot be outside of it - but our soul is eternal.
We need to be forever - but our forever goes one way.
We may go on forever, but we will never return.
I move on past the glory, the pain, the past.
I move on from the happiness and my time with the blessed.
I leave behind me times with people now long gone, I left behind the chances to make their smile true.
I might have been better, if I could understand I wouldn't return.
We may get a forever, we may just get a day,
but no matter what, either way,
we will never get to stay.

Her tears were rainbows,
a rainfall commitment to herself.

Never would she let that pain
again bring tears to her eyes.

Tomorrow was an olive branch --
a beacon of hope.

She'd long chased a raven --
a deliverer of despair.

So she resolved to become a dove,
to be strong in resolve
and a bearer of hope.

Every thought, every sight, every idea is built by WORDS,
You see a LEAF in color GREEN,
Feel HAPPY, CONFUSED, or MOLLIFIED.
But music is not so limited--
it is just sound, just pure emotion.
It does not go FEAR! CAUTION! WAITING!
but somehow, it's ***-Plulum-AaaRRUM speaks those thoughts far more clearly.
It filters between the lines of language like light through a cracked-open door
it drips from heaven,
unchecked.

I smile a lot
and never cry
my heart is soft,
my mind is sharp,
my eyes are dulled with truth.

My mistakes, shortcomings, errors, and failures, are as sand by the sea.
As his voice raises an angry wind, the sand hits my stinging eyes.

Other times, the waves of his affection wash wet and smooth the sand down, and we walk and look at the falling sun.

But even as we stroll, the sand sticks to my feet,
I know that sand will stay stuck to me.

The eyes are the greediest of the body.
The legs run to bring the eyes to see new things,
The heart pumps that the eyes may live to see another day.

The eyes, his, and all their organs search for her eyes and serve her constantly.
His hands work to bring music to her ears,
Sweets for her tongue,
All for a twinkle in her eye.

When his eyes saw hers catch the glisten of a tear,
His mind raced for an answer,
His arms drew her closer,
But alas: the tear was for him,
As her mouth told him that her heart was another’s.

And at that Truth,
While his heart dropped,
And his hands fell,
It was only after his eyes had clearly seen her leave,
That they blurred with tears.


Perhaps, the eyes are not the window to the soul, but, rather, the soul itself.
Through his eyes, he had seen all,
And because of what he had seen,
He was who he was.
And when those eyes blurred and crumpled and crumpled as his soul,
His body fell too –
Waiting for the eyes to see something new.

My lashes love each other-
-they’re beautiful, delicate lovers.
Every few moments, they steal the briefest kisses-
If separated for too long, they weep!
Each night they fall together in love,
Together in blissful sleep