she is truly indescribable
when i tell you there is a universe which she inhabits, solely--with a few pine trees and visited, on occasion, by the raspberries of reddened cheeks--would you understand?
of course not, for everyone has someone who occupies their own universe.
if i told you she was the best of them all, would you believe me?
that her universe has the most beautiful vistas, the clearest skies, rolling hills stretching to infinity and unfathomable sunsets
would you agree with this fact?
perhaps, if you knew her.
to know her is to know of what i speak. at least, you'd be able to peek through the telescope and gather some version of her temporary eternity.
she gets stuck in my throat, sometimes.
all lovers say that their breath is taken, but how might you know what i mean when i say that sometimes i cannot breathe yet my lungs continue to function?
to glimpse her universe is to plunge into the darkness fully, with such uncertainty that you are certain to find a garden bursting with flowers, the most beautiful flowers. you are certain to find untamed happiness, wildly stunning serenity, and two or so campers in maine looking on in awe.
her universe is heart-stoppingly astonishing, incomprehensibly astounding, unendingly, stupendously amazing.
i never want to leave.

Your body is the soft light filtering through green leaves,
The sunrise over the water that reflects into infinity and infinity and infinity.

Your eyes are the gentle clouds floating by on a blue day,
A bygone, lilting breeze where cares are carried carefully away.

Your voice is the sweet birdsong on a warm summer's morning,
The deep church bell that rings so divine that people begin to believe it is the sound of God himself.

While there is no shortage of syntax that I can use to suggest the sweet serenity which serendipitously serenades all souls you surround,

When I see you it is as though I have found myself idle in an idyllic meadow, ignorantly inarticulate in the face of inescapable, unimaginable splendor.

The brushstroke curve of your lips and your neck and your hips and your hands is my favorite painting in the world's museum.

You are so much, you are waking up from a nightmare only to remember you are safe and warm in your bed, you are the rushed, breathless heartbeats after a first kiss, you are July on film, you are the first sip of a perfectly **** strawberry lemonade from the Cheesecake Factory.

But most of all, your body is the soft light filtering through green leaves,
The sunrise over the water that reflects into infinity and infinity and infinity.

Tonight, I'm falling in love with myself.
I will study her hands so closely,
I will marvel at each line.

Tonight, I'm falling in love with myself.
I will hug her body so tightly,
I will be so glad she's mine.

Tonight, I'm falling in love with myself.
I will love the way her hair falls,
I will cherish all her time.

Tonight, I'm falling in love with myself.
I will want her sense of humor,
I will smile at how she's kind.

Tonight, I'm falling in love with myself.

we sat.
a woman passed.
she said,
"you look like you're enjoying each other."
she added,
"or the day."
you said,
"we're enjoying the day."
I was enjoying you.

somewhere in the past, I am looking on You for the first time.
You make me smile, and we walk for far too long.

somewhere in the past, my palms are sweaty for the first time.
Yours are too, and we laugh about it.

somewhere in the past, I am hearing You laugh for the first time.
You are so beautiful when you laugh, and it makes me happy.

somewhere in the past, You are holding me for the first time.
You are so comforting, and every time we're together, I don't let go.

somewhere in the past, we are falling in love for the first time.
You are everything, everything, everything, and I am obsessed.

somewhere in the past, we are watching our show entwined.
You are forever and ever and ever, and I am content.

somewhere in the past, we are planning our future.
You are in a wedding dress in Washington and Oregon and Colorado and I am so lucky.

somewhere in the past, we are still together.

We had just met.
You told me that you were tired of your roommate,
So I came and saved you.
We sat in the stadium and talked.
The way the stars illuminated you was incredible.
The air felt electric and I never wanted it to end.
This evening I will not forget.

We had just started.
I told you that I was still nervous,
So you came and saved me.
We sat in the drive-through and laughed.
The way the lights touched you was magnificent.
The world felt okay and I never wanted it to end.
This evening I will not forget.

We had just begun.
We were both so certainly uncertain,
So we came and saved each other.
We sat in your room and smiled.
The way you were so close to me was overwhelming
The room felt so comforting and I never wanted it to end.
This evening I will not forget.

We had just confessed.
We were both so incredibly happy,
So we continued to love each other.
We sat in your car and listened.
The way you sang was beautiful.
The moment felt so transcendent and I never wanted it to end.
This evening I will not forget.

These evenings I will not forget.

I saw You again last night.
You smiled at me so beautifully.

This stunning mirage of You,
It blessed me when I awoke.

I held your hand.
I remembered what it felt like.

You still exist with me in my mind.
I still love you so much it hurts.

I'm still in love with you.
And that's okay.
I think about your hands
How they touch the light of day.

I'm still in love with you.
It hurts a bit.
I imagine your smile
What might be causing it.

I'm still in love with you.
I will be fine.
Yet I cannot help but think
What if you were still mine?

In you, I see something
It reminds me of peace.
Hands remain tangled,
After we’ve fallen asleep.

Forlorn figures fade
Faithlessly away.
And my faithful frettings
Found moorings in faraway fields today.

In you, I feel something
It reminds me of warmth.
If ever you need flour,
Please knock at my door.

Ancient ancillary angels
Are visiting me now.
And my divine daydreams
Discover a home in delightful dallying about.

In you, I find something.
It reminds me of love.
Mayhaps it’s too hackneyed
But it feels blessed; from above.

When I grow old, I shall put seven cents in my pocket and give it to strangers.

I shall embark upon a journey and peddle soft, warm words that fill empty bellies and soothe tattered psyches.

I shall set up a travelling stand where the only currency we accept is memories, used and reused and sold bottled up fresh in old cans of soda.

I shall become known and unknown, even unknowable as I weave my way through threadbare mountains and ribboning streams and sing gentle songs with whatever words you’d like to hear.

I shall collect river rocks, smoothed with time and ancient expressions which I will attempt, futilely, to divine.

I shall carry all of my compliments in the stitches of my shawl and discard the insults on the ground, crumpled bits of refuse decaying in my wake, then pull my garment ever tighter such that the cruel litter may not reach me at all.

When I grow old, I shall find seven cents in my pocket given to me by a stranger.

The happiness falls like rain
Only to drip through my outstretched fingers
Turning to the inevitable, inimical, immutable mud of you.

I dredge through this monotony so often that it becomes routine
The muck which traps me so wholly feels natural
It flows like a river.

And then I remember you and I am frozen
The boulders which obstruct my path double in size
And I slip beneath your filth.

I watched the roofs of the buildings
The turrets, spiraling
Fresh August.

I closed the window
The noise, overwhelming
Metallic singing.

I lay in the bed
The city, wailing
Blanketed shouting.

I woke in the morning
The ground, sinking
Unstable standing.

I have built unto you an empire,
Do not leave, I entreat;
Stay here for still longer.

These halls which I have made,
Dwell in them, I beg;
Remain here for some while.

I have built unto you a castle,
Do not depart; I urge;
Live here for such time.

These turrets which I have drawn,
Linger upon them, I beseech;
Rest here for this spell.

do you remember the music?
cavernous halls swallowing us whole
i watched as the dancers climbed to the heights
the peaks, the sorrows of man which dwelt among us.

do you remember the feeling?
sonorous sensations surrounding us completely
i heard as the echoing sentiments sang so sweetly
the swells, the careful connections forged between us.

do you remember the music?
it is raging, the river, it is rising and we are together
we are together, we cannot be separated and here we are
sharing this moment sharing this time feverishly preparing
crescendoing into glorious, exalting infinity!

and now it is over.

but do you remember the music?

Nineteen revels at nineteen!
First, how can I be so old?
Second, how can I be so young?
And how can I possibly navigate the world?
Fourth, what if my inside doesn't match my outside?
Fifth, how do I ask for wisdom?
Sixth, not a question, but an enunciation: I am beautiful!
But what if I'm not beautiful?
Eighth, remember when I was eight?
Ninth, I'm not sure I do. But maybe I do.
Tenth, the next decade is coming for me soon!
Eleventh, I rather dread it.
And how do I handle loss?
Thirteenth, is thirteen unlucky?
Fourteenth, it doesn't seem so.
Fifteenth, I am the same distance from fifteen as I am from twenty-three.
Sixteenth, I've only been driving for three years.
Seventeenth, I've only been driving for three years?
But I feel so capable!
Nineteenth subsection a. the world is so large, so unknowable, and that is scary.
Nineteenth subsection b. I will revel in it.

all it seems i can do
is focus on what wasn't
i didn't get to hold your hand or kiss you.

i wanted to watch you ski and hike the flatirons.
i wanted to meet your friends and family.
i wanted to last, at least for a little while.

all it seems i could do
was focus on what wasn't
i didn't get to take you out or touch your face.

i wanted to bring you to my mountains and tease you about yours.
i wanted to introduce you to my friends and family.
i wanted to last, at least for a little while.

all it seems i can do
is focus on what wasn't
i didn't get to tell you i love you or...

i didn't get to.

i just didn't get to.

do you remember when i asked if i could kiss you?
it felt like the time i stood on that rocky ledge and couldn’t jump into the water below because it seemed so high.

do you remember when i told you i like you?
it felt like the first time i rode that roller coaster and made it over the biggest hill (without throwing up, too!)

do you remember when i asked you to lunch?
it felt like the time i took a deep breath and got in that rickety old plane just to jump out of it and soar through the clouds.

do you remember?

i do.

This is a contract!!
Why won’t you give me my end of the bargain?
Make me feel loved, make me feel beautiful.
To you, what am I but a distraction from your stress?

This is a contract!!
Why did you even sign it?
Give me your time, give me your concern.
To you, what am I but a friend?

This is a contract!!
Why won’t you fulfill it?
Offer me your care, offer me your words.
To me, you are wonderful.

How I long to give in to the mortal pleasures of the flesh,
Yet lusting for the release of the physical world I exist,
Paradoxically halted by my own humanity.

Am I this name, this face, this soul?
Is this body inseparable from me?
I look at my digits and exalt in their beauty, these vessels which carry me through life.

How I wish to ascend to the heights of consciousness,
Yet praying for the escape from this eternal solitude,
Perpetually stunted by my own humanness.

Am I this heart, this blood, this mind?
Are those people inseparable from me?
I look at their digits and exalt in their beauty, those vessels which carry us through life.

How fleeting, how trivial, how small everything is.
How permanent, how significant, how immense everything is to me.

i feel nothing, but in the best way.

the absence of artificial asinine archaic and endlessly echoing internal emotions.

all is well here, all is well here.

i feel nothing; no worry.

this peaceful presence propagating powerful pleasantries within a quiet mind.

all is well here, all is well here.

i feel nothing; no longing.

the first fantastical hiatus from forceful fateful phantoms gripping at the heart.

i feel nothing; no anger.

this incredible introspective break with inimical irate iterations intruding upon this space.

all is well here, all is well here.

i feel nothing, but in the best way.

I balance myself
   so delicately
on haves and have-nots.

"What do I have that you do not?"
      this gives me life; purpose.
I have done what you lack.

"What have you done that I have not?"
       and suddenly the world falls beneath my feet.
I am not so good as you anymore.

I balance myself
   so delicately
on haves and have-nots.

O Lord, my God
Would you consecrate my lungs such that the air I breathe be holy?
O Lord, my Savior
May each shuddering breath be yours; Divine.

O Lord, my God
Would you consecrate my throat such that the water I drink be wine?
O Lord, my Protector
May each desperate swallow be yours; Heaven.

O Lord, my God
Would you consecrate my palms such that the ones I touch be angels?
O Lord, my Guide
May each careful stroke be yours; Blessed.

O Lord, my God
Would you consecrate my soul such that my deeds be pure?
O Lord, my Shepherd
May each deliberate act be yours; Transcendent.

Do you mind that I might seek you out?
I am not certain what this feeling is, this glowing fire that I have lit inside of myself.
Sometimes I hope that it might consume me entirely.
Yet I strike the match such that it burns just enough to pleasantly warm my thoughts.

Do you mind that I might think of you?
I am not certain why this feeling is, this divine light which I myself have cast upon you.
Sometimes I hope that it might fade into nothingness.
Yet I stoke the embers such that they may never turn cold.

Do you mind that I might wonder about you?
I am not certain how this feeling is, this burning sun which sets often and not at all.
Sometimes I hope that it may warm you as it does me.
Yet I stare into the flames such that they begin to fade without my intervention.

Here we lay, victims to a divine and unyielding power.
Yet in another land it is I who stands on the precipice.
I do not fear, I do not love, I do not long in this, my creation.

Here I lay, at peace in a world of my own making.
I may finally ascribe divinity to myself.
I do not hide, I do not reach, I do not withhold in this, my creation.

O, come now my brothers.

Come weep at the river that I myself have dredged.

The toil, no, the fruit of my labor is borne.

Unto you all who may reap its rewards.

O, come now brothers.

Your sweet notes I hear, crying out.

Watch as I slice myself open.

And turn the river red with blood.

I sit at the base of a tree, and it is summer.

Here is gold streaming through the leaves, dappling the ground with sunspots.

I look past my boots into a pasture full of souls.

Here are Aesop's Fables by my side, drawing familiar faces close... or pushing them far.

I feel the warmth of this heaven before me.

Here are joys and tears and adventures both big and small.

I hear the sound of a river tangling and untangling itself among rocks and sediment.

Here is James Taylor reminding us that this old world must still be spinning 'round.

I know you are here with me, even though I do not know you well, I have not met you yet, and you are my best friend.

Here is my past and present and future, and I feel our first kiss and the secrets you kept safe and the night we lay on the rocks under the stars and the only time I remember you holding my hand and how loudly we sang in the car.

I will live here, I will die here.

Here is my happy place.

I wore my Sunday best,
I am ready to shed this year.

I bore sorrows through eyes as yet unharmed,
I know better now.

I learned love and love learned me,
Now we sit hand in hand... most days.

I put myself into a box,
I pulled myself out again.

I have enjoyed it all,
As time turns everything golden.

Am I doing you justice, o 18th year?

I was told that 19 is an incredible age to be.

Now I am on its precipice.

I think I will jump with both feet first.

I have made this decision.
I have made this
I have made
I have
I
Will this decision make me?
Will this decision make
Will this decision
Will this
Will

I’ve been asking myself the hard questions.
Where is the girl that I seek?
She’s right here, with me.
Am I bleeding her out with every tear?

I’ve been asking myself the hard questions.
What should I do?
I want to believe in a God now.
Is She with me, leading me forward?

I’ve been asking myself the hard questions.
Who am I?
I don’t feel alive most of the time.
What do I do when I’m dead?

I’ve been asking myself the hard questions.
Are you reading this?
You’ll probably see it soon.
Will it make you cry like I am?

I hope not.

I’ve been asking myself the hard questions.

I made a wish on 11:11.

The same one we’ve always made.

It will never change.

I would like to preserve you in a glass jar.
I would like to preserve you in a glass
I would like to preserve you in a
I would like to preserve you in
I would like to preserve you in the sunlight.
I would like to preserve you
I would like to preserve
I would like to
I would like to end this finally.
I would like
I would
I would have done anything.

I tried to preserve you in a glass jar against my better judgement.
So here I am, sitting across the table from the phantom form of you.
Would you like some tea? No, I shouldn't entertain your presence.
I would like some tea, but you'd never invite me over, would you?
Oh how I wished it so, how I tried to manifest you into reality.

I always knew you were doomed to remain a fairy tale.

Against my better judgement I tried to preserve you in a glass jar.
So here I am, sitting across the table from the phantom form of you.
Would you like to leave? No, I will still trap you here.
I would like to leave, but you'd like that too much.
Oh how I wished I could, how I tried to leave you behind.

I always knew you were doomed to remain a fairy tale.

The glass is cracking, you are escaping, finally escaping.

I would like you to stay, I would like to leave, I would like to preserve you in a glass jar.

I miss what I never thought I'd miss:
cicadas chirping
phantom insects
now crawl from the air vents
when the sun rises
dust is but dust.

I recall what I never thought I'd recall:
the city
walking up and down its streets
now running in my mind
when the alarm sounds
all is illusory.

I feel what I never thought I'd feel:
memories so real
leave me be, leave me be
I miss my home
where is this place
is it right?

I miss what I never thought I'd miss:
thoughts are swirling
I cannot understand
why here, why now, why this?
I have found my happiness
I have found it.

I wish I could knit you a blanket
Of all the words you deserve to hear
The words that should never enter your ears would roll off like rain on a rooftop.

Unfortunately your kindness is so pervasive that you’ve left your sunroof open.

I wish I could knit you a blanket
Of all the warmth you deserve to retain
The cold of the outside world would melt away like ice in the sunshine.

Unfortunately your heart is so forgiving that you forgot to turn down the A/C.

I wish I could knit you a blanket
Of all the happiness you deserve to receive
The cruelty of others would dissipate like breath in a mirror.

Unfortunately your mind is so compassionate that you have forgotten to take care of yourself.

I wish I could do for you what you do for so many. You take away the sting of harsh words, you weather the cold so that we may not have to, you face the cruelty so the cruel can feel comforted.

Your heart is gold, and I cannot knit you a blanket.

But perhaps we can share the warmth of a quilt just a little too big, and someday you can tell the sky the words you wish you hadn’t heard and let the trees drink in the cold air and give you back happiness, and sunshine, and a world just as it should be.

Until then, I’ll be waiting, with ears for listening and hands for warming and a heart for smiling.

With a quilt just a little too big for one.

Her hands are winter.
Frosted fingers interlaced above frozen windowsills staring out into the great unknown and that big blank canvas of snow that is our future, us, we.

Her eyes are spring.
Bright blue alight with life and happiness and rebirth, a freckle on the side like a cloud in the clear blue sky, like the first blossoms on the branches of the weeping cherry trees, arms stretching into forever and ever, amen.

Her laugh is summer.
The peals of schoolbells rung for the last time, the joy of escape and endless sunshine and golden days filled with potential, rolling through hills that continue on and on, never ending like the constant whispers of “I love you most.”

Her body is autumn.
Beautiful like the palette of gold, orange, and red leaves and the sunspots shining on the cool ground and the crisp scent of a new season turning itself over into something magical, cooking and baking and cinnamon and wondering when exactly our tomorrow will begin.

She is a nature girl.
The seasons spread over her body like tattoos, the warmth of the sun is enclosed in her soul and sometimes she protects herself with the ice of winter but when you learn to peel back the snow’s frosty bite you discover you have stepped out into the crisp autumn air and once again she is here, the sun of her love warming your back and your upturned face looking into hers although it’s bright but you don’t have to squint because it isn’t harsh but comforting, oh so comforting because she is love and you are love and suddenly once again it’s summer.

I love her.

Sometimes, I sit with my love for her. We chat awhile. I ask why it has come, why it is so powerful, why it never leaves. It tells me that it has been waiting for her for a long time.

Sometimes, this love breaks down the front door and enters without asking. On occasion it finds me with my head in my hands, weeping or worrying or wondering. Other times I am joyous and allow the waves of excitement this visitor brings to wash over me, erasing all other thoughts. When the love does this, it usually takes the additional liberty of freeing the butterflies in my chest. It is worth noting that I never ask it to do this.

Sometimes, the love is silent. Perhaps it is asleep upstairs, or dozing softly on the couch where I am reminded of it only in its gentle snores and even breaths. There are times when its slumber is deeper than others, when I am upset or angry and want to wake it up and demand its attention but find that it has been locked in its room and somehow I have the key in my pocket.

Always, the love is present. It has made a home within me and it has changed around the decorations so much that I don’t even remember what some parts used to look like. It has hung artwork that I don’t think I’ll ever take down, even if it decides to leave. I like the renovations, though.

Oftentimes, my love opens windows that were once shut. The air smells a little sweeter. The sun shines a little brighter. Every time it comes home, I ask it to tell her to stay. I hope it has made a home within her as well. And maybe, someday, its two homes will be one.

I love her.