i fell in love with his words,
instead of his actions.

he told me all about our
beautiful future, together.

but he never intended,
on finding it.

the best poems, are
the ones that feel like
a punch to the chest.

they leave you
stunned, for a moment.
blinking.

A sunny summer day,
A lonely country road,
He’s driving;
But he is not here.

He is in 1982
With his long black locks,
A mischievous smile
And a rebel attitude.

Young bodies fill the car,
Along with a tangible excitement
Of what the night will bring.

His lanky body sprawled in the passenger seat
A cigarette hanging from his mouth
Beer in his lap.

Hoots and giggles fill the silent summer night
As they cruise through town,
The car is the party.

He is in 1982
But I am in 2015

His worn body sprawled in the driver’s seat
A cigarette hanging from his mouth
A mischievous smile as he points out
All of the old hangout spots.

Stories, he is made of stories.
Friends, fights, pranks, parties.
He tells them as if they were
Yesterday.

He runs a hand through his short,
White speckled hair
The lines on his face turn down-
His eyes twinkle,
He’s laughing again.

Blasting the radio,
Head bobbing, voice screaming along
To his favorite Godsmack song.

Music fills the silent summer day
As we travel through town
Leaving one home
For another.

I had to move
the tissues
closer to my bed

because I was
a dam that could
burst at any moment.

For weeks,
they were there
for me, close.

Today, I put
them back
on my desk

across the room.
It doesn't seem
like a feat,

but believe me,
it is.
I no longer cry.

I have never wanted someone the way I want you.
I want you in every form.
Give me all the pieces of yourself that you don't let others see.
Let me be the one you can trust with your heaviest burdens.
Give me all of you in the dark.
Let me be the one who unravels you,
please give me everything. I want it all.
And in return, all of me,
is yours.

I am lost, and my maps
have turned to ash in my fingers.
I am wandering with no direction,
waiting for someone to tell me to stop.

In my loneliness,
I almost called you.

But then I realized,
even when I had you,
I was still lonely.

And that says it all.

when i kiss him,
i lose my breath.

when i think of losing him,
it disappears again.

he always does that to me,
steals my oxygen.

but he always gives it back,
with every smile.

How many?
How many poems?
How many breaths?
How many tears? tissues?
Cups of tea? blankets?
Hugs? cookies?
How many?
Give me a formula.
Perfect addition, let me
Figure out how many of
These little comforts will
make up the
sum,
of my
happiness.

Two little girls in a seashell frame,
Posing on the beach.
Can you see the family resemblance?

The first girl is tall, ghostly white skin, and a bony, slender frame.
With hunched shoulders, she makes herself disappear.
She is a magic trick.
With a ****** in stomach,
She is the girl who was cut in half.

The second girl is shorter, with darker, glowing skin,
A body with curves.
She makes herself bigger.
Stretched out arms, skin spills out over her swim suit.

She points, staring at the camera.
Daring anyone to tell her she’s wrong,
That her body isn’t perfect.

The girls grow up being told they’re mistaken.
Skinny is confidence,
Chubby is shame.

Look, can’t you see?
Confidence is defiance,
It is a presence, it is taking up space.

Over time, the sun blesses the pale girl,
Scatters kisses over her body.

She is now the night sky,
With new constellations,
Beautiful in a different way.

Over time, her sister becomes the sun,
Opposites, in their beauty and brightness,
Yet equal all the same. And her sister
Teaches her how to defy everyone,
Who wants her to disappear.

it's all I can
think about today

your lips,
on mine

your smile,
your hands,

you are all
I can think about

today,
after last night,

I cannot wait
for more time.

i think i love him.
i love him i think.
i've been told you know when you know,
here is what i know.
when i am not with him,
he consumes my thoughts.
when i am with him,
i never want to leave.
any essence of him,
his name, a thought, a text,
makes me smile and smile.
i want to know him
in ways i've never wanted
to know another human soul.
through him, i see myself differently.
i like who i see.
he challenges me.
i like to think i challenge him.
we are alike but very different,
complementing each other so that
we both are brighter but do not
outshine the other.
when i am in the clouds,
or in a dark corner hiding from the world,
just his presence brings me back,
helps me see the world and its beauty again.
he knows me in ways i never
dreamt another human soul
would want to know me.
i know all of this.
and i know,
i've never felt this way before,
and i know,
when he sends me messages
filled with witty words and sweet ones,
i smile and smile.
and my first thought is,
*i just love this boy

loving him is like being among
the flowers and birds,
peaceful, natural

i am starting to think of him, as my sun.
things are brighter when he is there.
there is more life and light in my life.
when he is gone, it may be a bit darker,
but i have always loved the glow of the moon.
i still need my solitude, my time to be myself.
you have to love both the moon and the sun.
and the stars, the stars of course.
if i am the moon and he is the sun,
my friends and family are my stars.
my ***** of fire that surround me with heat, life, love.
we all fit you see.
with them i am me.
but with him, i shine.
you need the sun to survive, and life is better, life is life.
but you need the time with the moon and stars to appreciate the day.
it all strikes a balance.
i am not sure if i am making sense here with my jumbled similes and metaphors of my own personal universe of relationships.
but just know he has become my sun.
and who knows, it could explode.
scorching everything in its path,
there goes the universe.
but for now, we have day and night and life.
and if it goes down in flames, it was still there.
and a new universe can form from the remnants.

What if we,
could love
while we sleep?

Meet in our
dreams,
be a tangle
of limbs and bodies.

Then wake
the same way
in the morning.

Never missing a moment.

The dress wears the woman
She needs to be confident
Stand tall, chin up
That is how they pick you

You think you decided to twirl,
That was the gown
She wants to be shown off
She wants to dance

The crowd does not adore you
You are no one
A pretty face, a slim figure
That dress, she is the star

Now twirl.

Daisies everywhere.
In my ideal world,
There'd be daisies everywhere.
Springing from my feet,
Blooming on every corner,
Dancing on every windowsill.
Oh my darling Daisy,
Who could possibly
Forget to smile,
With you around.

For Sunday mornings, and
Autumn air
For sisterly love,
For a father’s humor, a mother’s knowledge

For The Book Thief and To **** a Mockingbird,
For every word that has touched my soul
And for the souls who shared them with me

For sorrow, joy
For kindness, friendship
For all the blessings a day gives.

For all of the times I did not say it
I say it now

The only objects
I have ever felt
true attachments to,
are my books.
They are so much
more than ink, paper, and leather.
When they are lost,
I lose a memory.
I lose who I was when I read that story.
Stay with me I know that sounds silly.
For example, I lost my copy of Twilight.
A trivial novel, maybe.
But when I lost that book,
I lot the 13 year old girl
who fantasized about her own
vampire romance. Or any romance.
And some might say good riddance
to those foolish fantasies.
But every now and then when
my mere mortal romances are too much,
I'd love to pick up  Twilight,
re-read and imagine my own vampire boyfriend,
sweeping me off my feet.
When I lose my books, I lose that opportunity
to escape.
If only for a little while.

It is different with him, simpler.
He is just him and I am just me.
And we are just together.
There is no force.
It is refreshing.

Do poet's ever
tire of writing
love poems?

Will we
ever tire
of reading them?

i wonder how long
it will be before
he realizes that
he deserves
more than me

Pick up the pencil
Pick it up
Let it out

Let it soar
Out of the
Lead

Allow it to
Spill over
The page

Your thoughts,
Are melodies

Your words,
Are music

Pick up the pencil
Write,
A symphony.

I read about these trees once,
they grow together, the
two plants intertwine and become one
supporting each other, until they
become inseparable.
When you were holding me,
I felt like one of those trees
pushing myself into you, as
your arms wrapped around me
fingers holding fingers,
thumbs making patterns
on each other's skin.
I never thought we could
fit together like this and
I wondered what would happen
if we never let go.
If we sat there forever,
intertwined.
Would we grow together?
Become one plant?
One body?
One soul?
One.

my chest tightens
when we fight,
it's as if
everything
constricts
around my heart,
to protect it.
be careful
my body warns,
don't let him
don't let him
rip me from you,
my heart screams

I wonder if hell
is made of fire,
flames everywhere
like snakes
slithering at your feet
pools of dying embers
flickering in the dark
lava spilling down
like waterfalls
imagine heat everywhere
singing your eyes, hair, skin
such a dark place,
yet so bright
that's the trickery,
you feel so warm,
comfortable,
you don't realize you're being
burned alive

I wonder at what point
us ladies in our
many years of womanhood
stop saying,
boys are the worst
and start groaning
ugh, men, am I right?
Because even though
I  know the difference
between a boy
and a man,
I feel as if I will
always see myelf
as a foolish,
lovesick,
girl.

In the morning when your eyes can barely open, open them.
In the morning when silence is a gift, cherish it.
In the morning when the sun is not your friend, greet her.
In the morning when your blanket is your lover, leave him.
In the morning when the cold pushes you down, rise up.
In the morning when the day mocks you, laugh back.
This is the morning where everything can change,
Embrace it.

A rib cage.
Rib. Cage.
Your rib cage.
Cage.
Lock.
Key.
Your heart,
Lungs.
Breath and
Soul.
Locked in,
safe.

I cannot place,
my feelings onto paper.
I wanted to lock them
away with my pencil.
Hoping to have them
fade onto the page.

I cannot form
my thoughts
into sentences
they swirl, bounce
refusing capture.

Thoughts, feelings
The right and left
cuffs that
chain me to
my mind,
forever captive
immobilized.

Just a little something,
A note, a smile, a hello.

Just a little something,
To keep, to hold, to have.

Just a little something,
I cannot let go.

every word
out of her
seemingly sweet
mouth,
broke me
from the
inside out

What would happen?
If my heart beat was
too fast? too powerful?
If my lungs expanded,
more, more?
Breathe, pump, breathe
More
Expand my loves
More, and more
With every breath,
every pump,
the cage cracks.
Go on, more
push, expand
until I burst.

Writing is funny sometimes
It's as if your mind, heart,
And hand have a
Conversation on all their own,
Without including you.
Then you stare at the page,
And think,
*I didn’t know I felt that way

how have I never looked up?
there's a whole universe up there
the stars, those bright pinpricks of light,
just existing, with or without our gazes
they go on, fiercely, only for themselves

us humans could learn so much

i truly loved you
with everything I had,
and then some.

and when you
almost left,
it disappeared.

my love feels
emptier now,
less raw.