Golden hour always treats the earth
and it's inhabitants well,
giving every animal
a yellow and orange halo,
the plants and weeds
beads of light to adorn them
like jewelry,
and the people around you
a hazy glow.

m.e.

she has the moon in her eyes,
and the sun in her smile.
she is a walking contradiction,
with no real direction.
unsure of the world around her,
she hides behind clouds and thunderstorms.

she is the lightening and the sunshine,
the night and the day.
she might just let herself slip away.

she has the sun in her smile,
but the moon in her eyes.

m.e.

I still look for you
at the grocery store.
I still search the cars
at gas stations.
I still hope that we will
bump into each other
at the movies
or in a restaurant.  

I hope,
and I wish,
and I imagine.
I play it over
and over,
again and
again.

But every time
I make it back to my car,
I realize you are still
so far away,
and I will just have to
visit you
in my dreams.

m.e.

Take my hand,

Deep breathes and soft lips,
I never thought I’d find a love like this.
With every kiss and quiet moan,
I know I’ve found a love of my own.

Take my whole life too,

I know I’m damaged, this is true.
But you say “show me your scars, I’ll help you through.”
I gave you my heart, and you gave me yours too,
So together we stand, hand in hand.

For I can't help falling in love with you.

m.e.

Not all relationships
survive the seasons of life.
Winter brings snow and cloudy skies,
lonely nights, and cold hands and feet.

But after what seems like a never-ending spell,
the skies start to clear,
and the snow starts to melt away.
The sun warms your hands and feet,
and the birds keep you company with their chirping.

Time and growth has brought new relationships,
that can calm the storms
that the broken ones left behind.

m.e.

you are the warmest yellow,
and the coldest blue.

your burnt orange is the blazing fireplace,
in our cozy little home.
your hunter green is the clumps of grass,
that our children's bare feet will touch for the first time.
your pale purple is the dress that I will wear,
on our anniversary date night.
your indigo blue is the 2am,
that I roll over to see your closed eyes next to me.
your maroon red are the blisters on your hands,
when you come home from a long day at work.
your deep grey is the smooth countertops,
that I sit on while you kiss me.
the ash black is the comforter on our bed,
that we lay chest to chest under.

your colors paint our future,
and they are oh so beautiful.

m.e.

some people
are only meant to be
in your life for a
little while.

i hope you are not
one of those people.
i hope
you are in my life
for a very long
time.

m.e.

Alone in my dark room I sit,
as the spiders build their web,
trapping these brick and mortar walls
inside of it.
The wolf lurks outside my window,
his mouth waters as he is peeping in,
just waiting to sink his teeth
into my skin.
Creeping shadows
I mistake for burglars
are at the windows,
every time I pass them.
The wind whispers of danger,
as it hits the house with a running start,
it's murmurs seep through the cracks,
disturbing my fragile heart.
I hear the clash of broken glass
falling to the floor.
Who or what could that have been?
The wolf has broke down the door,
the spiders have made their way in,
and the man with the knife,
has just took my life.

m.e.

When I look at my Grandma,
I see my mother's hands,
my aunt's brown hair,
my uncle's brown eyes,
and their brother's smile.

When I look at my Grandma,
I see the love she has for her family,
the quiet wisdom from years of observing,
and the leather bound book she holds
so close to her heart.

When I look at my Grandma,
I see many mornings spent at the kitchen table,
and many evenings spent at the sink or stove.
I see the jewelry,
and high-healed shoes
that I would retreat to in her dimly lit bedroom.

When I look at my Grandma,
I see love,
values,
family,
and incredible strength.

When I look at my Grandma,
I see that age,
time,
sickness,
and her own decaying body,
cannot touch
what she has left behind.

m.e.

I feel like a stranger to you,
and you to I.
I can only pray that I will see you again,
with mended hearts and rested heads.
My friend,
I hope this is not the end.

m.e.

It is you I envy.

You,
who holds their hand as you walk
the breakfast isle at the store.

You,
who sees their eyes crinkle up
as they laugh at something they heard
in the next room over.

You,
who walks them to their car
and kisses them goodnight.

You,
who listens to their soft breathing,
as they fall asleep in their arms.

Oh, how I envy you.

m.e.

the stars collect little pieces of you,
they rain down on me,
and glide into the empty space
next to me,
and sing me to sleep with your
steady breaths.

m.e.

You were the moon; ghostly and looming.
I was the lightening; formidable and opaque.
We started as lovers, across a sea of stars.
But the immense and powerful waves of emotion
had taken their toll.
You cried that I was too sporadic, and untouchable.
I screamed that you were too trivial, and distant.
I guess the only thing we had in common,
was that we were both lonely lights shining brightly
in the vast and cold sky.

m.e.

An ode to the good times.

An ode to the late night giggles
that never seemed to stop,
and the scrambled eggs the next morning.
To the cold hardwood floors in your bedroom
that were decorated with blankets and shoes.
To the cake and ice cream
at every birthday party,
and every grain of sugar that Grandma let us
pour onto our cereal.
To every early morning coffee,
and every late night brownie.

To every note passed back and forth in church,
and every soda,
t-shirt, and piece of jewelry bought at the mall.
To every time we laughed,
and every time we cried.
To every time we sang in your car,
or in mine.
To every time the tv cast a soft glow
on all four walls.

To every time I knew you'd be there.
To every time we hugged,
held hands, or put our head
on each other's shoulders.
To the words that you wrote so neatly
on my 18th birthday card,
"You are my role model."
To all of the good memories,
which are far too many to count.

To every **** time that you said
I love you,
and every **** time that
I said it back.

An ode to the good times,
that are now few and far between.
Times that I'm not sure I'll have,
ever again.

m.e.

Your breaths have turned to
moaning sighs,
your truths to lies,
and your thoughts to outcries.

Why are you so surprised?
After all,
cloudy minds lead to
misty eyes.


m.e.

you still
show up in my
dreams at
night.

this is
not
how i wish to see
you.

m.e.

Time heals
everything,
but
everything
takes time;
have patience.

m.e.

I have lost myself,
Have you seen my soul
Anywhere?

Am I in the darkness of night,
With the summer heat?
Am I in the the threads of fabric that
Get tossed in the wash?
Am I in the stretch marks on my skin
Evidence of what my body can do?
Am I in my own reflection,
Deep in the void in my eyes?

Will I feel warmth in my heart again?
Will I feel the flame of passion
Rise up in me again?

Will I ever be whole again?


m.e.

There is
No timetable
For grief.
It comes.
It goes.
No rhyme.
No reason.


m.e.

What am I,
When you don’t look at me?

What am I,
When you stare straight through me?

What am I,
When you turn away from me?

I am a sigh,
A tear,
A shout,
Away from being nothing.


m.e.

You are a quiet voice in a thunderstorm storm,
Your cadence precise and certain.
You are a cherry blossom,
an offering to show me a hidden view.
You are the gentle touch that
trails down my spine.
You are the brown eyes and freckles
that I gaze at while you talk.

You are a small piece of my heart,
That stays tucked close to my chest.
You are the ache that my arms feel,
to pull you close and hold you.
You are the waves that wash over me,
in moments of sadness and fear.

You are the cherry blossom,
in outstretched hands.

m.e.

People can still hurt you,
Even though they love you.

You can still love someone,
Even though they hurt you.

You can still hurt someone,
Even though you love them.

m.e.