The average American teenage girl,
when in love,
will lose and average of two hours of sleep a night
talking to that special someone.
On average,
they also might experience a mild case
of internal befuddlement.
No worries though,
it only feels as if your stomach imploded
and your heart is in your throat.
Plus, the elevated levels of dopamine in your system
can only mean one thing:
Delusions of grandeur.
Stay calm!
These will only further explain the feeling
you are experiencing,
and that my friend is
infatuation,
adoration,
fascination,
or in other words,
Love.
When it comes to love,
I broke terminal velocity when I fell for you.
But, you know,
terminal velocity is just an average.

Rainy Day To-Do List

Perch high in your favorite
tree on the perfect branch
Observe the receding lightning’s
final flashes.
Eavesdrop on a robin’s conversation.
Clap Along with the thunder
Go ahead and leave a few bare
footprints in the soft earth.
Ponder the low hanging clouds.
Sing with the birds.
And then…
Disappear inside with the first
rays of sunshine.

Sunny Day To-Do List**

Take a moment
and listen in on a yellow grasshopper’s gossip
through the towering blades of grass.
Let the sun kiss your cheeks
till they are pink
and let the warm breeze gently soothe
your rouged face.
Wonder what the ants are up to.
Watch while a leaf falls down.
Compare the sky to a
calm,
blue
ocean
And dare not disturb it with a sound.

When I was small,
I had the idea that I wanted a fairy tale love story
with a brave prince to save me,
take me in his arms and ask me to be his,
but I don’t want that anymore.
I want the imperfections,
the awkwardness.
I don’t want you to be my prince charming.
I want you as you are.
I want my awkward white boy from the Midwest
who likes video games, sports, and sings like an angel.
So sing to me,
because if eyes are the windows to the soul
then your voice is a door flung wide open.
And when I thought all my doors where closed
you invited me in for Chick Fil A and lemonade.
It just wasn’t going through my thick head.
You were dropping hints harder than boulders
and it took me awhile,
but I finally cracked on a Pokémon poem,
which you didn’t write,
but the words were just as sweet as ones of your own.
I was oblivious to your advances,
but they say love is blind.
So I want to be lost
like Helen Keller in an Ikea.
And while I am there,
I will pick out a bookshelf for him to build
and we will share stories by the glow of the fire.
The essence of your presence is like smoke
and as fleeting as a dream on the precipice of sleep.
You are like the ‘Q’ words in Scrabble.
You don’t come around often,
but when you do, it’s pretty rewarding.
I wanted to learn every combination of your letters,
but I was careful of my spelling
because I knew your grammatical ways.
Show me chivalry is not dead.
Prove the world wrong, stare it in the face,
turn the other way and take me in your arms.
Instead of a superman in tights,
you will be my savior in gym shorts
because that is much more real
than a dragon slaying demigod.

My childhood was ripped out
along with the merry-go-rounds
and the teeter totters.
The rose tint of my youth faded to grey
and my imagination was deflated by reality
like and old helium balloon.
Ironically, everything was smaller as a kid.
The neighborhood block I lived on was my world,
everything I needed
and the biggest place in my tiny existence.
But things changed.
Somewhere between the toilet paper tube swords
and the pillow shields,
we grew up.
The stories of the “volcano” on the way to my
grandmother’s house turned out to be nothing more
than a nuclear power plant belching its steamy breath
into the sky like clouds.
We traded in our toys for
credit cards,
car keys,
and a funny thing called responsibility,
and yet, we long for the days of our youth,
when we could kick off our shoes
and kick off from the ground
because when you were young you believed you could soar.
I want the memories of my childhood,
like the smell of blown out birthday candles
or of freshly fallen snow
because flowers only remind me of funerals nowadays
and age makes you sore
and long for the days of the past.

I knew,
I knew it was coming.
From the moment you put in the
extra effort to walk me to my car,
you slipped on your sneakers
and walked me down the driveway.
My heart pounded as if to escape its very confines
because it knew the unspoken love between us
was about to grow.
As we said our usual goodbyes,
we hugged and I turned my head,
as only instinct knew how,
in order to meet your lips.
And then it happened!
...You kind of ate my mouth…
Clearly we both had very different ideas
on how this whole ‘first kiss’ thing worked,
but it didn’t matter.
After that first kiss, I only wanted more.
You are my boyfriend,
my lover,
my significant other
and as I fumbled with the keys to my car
and sank into the driver’s seat
I realized just how lucky I was
to be in love with you.

Tonight,
I write a poem for the director
who's life was written in cut time
when he thought he had nothing but time.
And while the music flows and grows,
the ones left behind move on with their movements.
Tonight, I write a poem for the actor who took is final bow,
but before he did he taught me to sing like no one was watching,
and when that didn't work,
sing to someone I love.
Sometimes you light a candle to remember
and end up burning from both ends
and in your desperation for safety
you end up with nothing but a soft mass of wax
that can be used to seal a memory you long to keep.
Our lives are like kites soaring to the sky,
crashing down,
only to be raised one more time,
holding onto the world by one small string,
and nothing but a tale to leave behind.
And at the end of the kite string there is a little girl
in awe of the tail like its a comet,
bursting across the sky with the intensity of the sun.
And maybe, one day,
she will tell her son or daughter about the
inspirations that reside among the stars.

My life is a big, awkward mess.
Seriously!
Between first kisses and silent car rides.
From accidental touches to stupid sayings
I have covered all the bases in the game of "uncomfortable moments."
I am a keeper of memories
and my curse will be to forever remember
how I have made a complete fool of myself,
but on the flip side I feel the responsibility
to memorize the world as it is
and the faces I know
and spell them out with words in poems.
But sometimes I don't need words.
I will speak without them
and let my face scream what I am really feeling,
but my hands,
they will tell stories of their own as I reach out to touch your palm.
Some days it is OK to simply exist.
Let life pass for a little bit
and wave like royalty as it goes by.
But do not stay for long.
Keep a pair of wings at the ready
and a packed suitcase by the door just in case
you need to fly to catch up.
Sometimes, life is a heap of bad times.
You cannot always outrun the storms,
but you sure can learn to dance in the rain.
Make life a pile of good things, still a mess,
but with a better chance at happiness.
It's good to sit down and take a big spoonful of perspective
because, trust me, you are going to need it in a world of narrow mindedness.
Stay open to new things, chances, ideas, loves, lessons, and hopes.
Move ahead while always maintaining the
ability to follow that someone who you know can lead you the
right way.
I have come to see that my life is a
big,
wonderful,
awkward mess
and I am in love with every moment of it.