When I was younger,
a moment of existential
panic would have my
buttons coming undone
for boys who didn't care why
but sure loved how.

I'm more beautiful now,
less given to panic, and I
undress for you like this:
one story at a time –  a
metaphoric bump and grind.
I shimmy out of all my lies.

if i could
copy and paste
you into
my book
i would.

i'd lock you
into the pages
between my
covers

bookmarking
your sweetest
lines with my
red silk ribbon

i'd open you up
and read your
darkest secrets
in still of night
by candlelight

and under full
moon's glow, drip
my honey'd words
upon your tender
heart.

oh to copy
and paste
you into
my book

where our love
affair could bloom
in words.

the only place it ever could.


--bruised orange

Gently swaying in the wind.
Glistening pavement ground.
Gathering glimpses of your light,
Through the shaking leaves,
Reflecting up from the drive.
It’s all that saves me
From a surrounding darkness.
Out of the corner square,
Of my left window,
Half skewed by my desk.
I think of you
And your smile
No longer saved for me.