I ache to feel that embrace.
The one where your whole being feels understood.
Where you can watch as the world washes away.

I'm just getting to know you.
The feel of your fingertips so foreign,
the smile you put on so sweet.

I think of you in the smallest of things.
Elegant words, rainy windows, clouded skies.

The only way I can describe it is,
that I'm curious for you.

I wish I was still sitting beside him on the couch.
The IV drip counting the time and the smell of his shirt sitting in the air.
I never got to ask him what to do.
I never got to ask him how to love.
His eyes are forever shut.
And so is my heart.

Her room is painted white.
A blank canvas.
Whispers fill my ears, of all her
Possibilities.
She is not me.
I have to remind myself.
Empty of memories,
Full of furniture.
I can see her growing here.
My little girl.
One day these coos and cries,
Will change to words.
She’ll sing songs instead,
Of lullabies.
I’ll savor every moment.
Every sweet little song.
In this room,
With the white walls.

I don't miss people.
I don't miss places.

I miss smiling faces,
hand holding.
I miss moments.

Sometimes moments I've never had.

I'm sentimental.
I run off imagination  
and meaning.

More than anything,
I'll miss all the things people have taken with them.

Eyes, notebooks, clever wit, my pillow, our photos,
because everything else I still have.

Memories can never be taken from me.

But I'll put them away for a few years. I'll shove you to the back of my mind,
and I'll put a Frank Sinatra record on in my head,
and I'll watch us flicker by when I need to.

All of you. Each person whose walked out.
Each person who turned off the lights,
who locked the door,
who never wanted any more,
of me.

I'll visit when I want to.
But for now I'll say goodbye.
To memories, to sentiment, to meaning,

To you.

Comfortable like a wasp's sting,
Swiftly sought like diamond rings,
Given up like virginity,
Hard to reach like infinity,

Surely he won't be loving me.

Hopefully her hope will hold,
Surely she sees how strong she stands,
Unless she waits upon a man.

Will we wait while she wastes time,
'Til she's told that these thoughts trap her.
What is it she's really after?

Love.

Well that's no thing to search for;
love lingers, love lusts, love lasts but:

Love loves to surprise.

The candle's flicker casts shadows upon your skin,
Like warm blood, wax drips down the wick.
Your eyes spark a call within my chest,
And suddenly I forget the rest.

A ghostly belt restricts my arms,
A silent smile seals my lips,
My shaking heart weakens my knees,
My mind a buzzing hive of bees.

No matter ticking, chiming, or striking,
Time will tell that I am yours.

Smoke and fire and oil and fog.
Palm trees, brown lawns and smog.
The last drag on your cigarette in the early morning dew.

The last thread on your navy skirt,
unravels from old into new.

How to tell the time,
when you no longer feel it at all.
When you water yourself,
but grow smaller,
not tall.

When the leather strap around your waist,
merely hides your only fate.
When at the end of the day,
on your taxi ride home,
you find yourself all alone.

And you take the last drag on your cigarette in silence.

A terrible ache grows firm in my side,
creating a home within my desires.
When? Just tell me when.

Wait

Four seasons blending into one another,
prolonging answers.
Hunger for clouds that have never poured rain.
Slowly driving yourself insane.
Now?

Wait

But how?
Slow my heart, and calm my mind,
and try to leave no moment behind.

Simply wait

A slow crawl on hands and knees,
26.2 miles with no break, no wheels,
Searching for a quick escape.

*Wait

Like the tarnished spine of a book unread,
My heart awaits the face.
And in years gone by,
A winding mile,
I've never seen the space.

The space that greets me,
Between my body and yours,
My body and theirs,
Anybody and somebody.

Like an unopened present,
Amidst a few,
I unwrap myself and see.

The only person I never knew,
Was me.

Breathing.
You're doing it right now.
In and out, in and out.
But why?
What do you breathe for?
Do you see a face?
Who do you breathe for?
I know who I see.

words brew in a *** under my skin,
warming, churning, boiling.
Sitting in a chair without wheels,
no ability to roll across the room.

Is it a force of habit that makes you complacent?
Is it fear that keeps you from change?

What is stopping you from changing.
From moving, when plates are shifting under your feet.

Every person in the audience is telling you to move,
to save yourself,
and yet the words continue to bubble.

The *** is only left with steam.

I was in the garden when they told me the truth about the world.
This mysticism parted like a swollen rain cloud to the east.
Now we are left to seek solace among the forever stretch of land.

To spend our days like a crossword puzzle.
Filling in our positivity with small doses of pleasure.
Sweet tea, warm embraces, freshly fallen snow and unopened letters.

Crying wouldn't do us any good.
Arguing wouldn't expand our horizons.
The ferocity of our hope lights the sky with a thousand stars.

The roses growing around me have drops of dew resting in their petals.
I breathe out and feed them, they breathe out and feed me.
I sit in the grass and watch them until the dawn breaks.

There's a bitter sort of beautiful,
in this recklessness.
Where the plunging river of fear,
finds its drought.
Nothing matters to your head,
nothing matters to your heart,
but it's the thirst in your soul,
that makes you whole.
It's the frigid midnight cold that keeps you bare,
It's the salty ocean water rising over your head,
that bittersweet numbness that let's you know,
You're not dead.

There's ***** dish water stewing in the kitchen sink.
There's a ghost of passion past,
Stopping to take a drink.
There's more to her surface than what you think.

But all you want is all you ever wanted.
It's just a fantasy.
And it's time to pull the plug.

Do you remember the days,
Where the thought of love,
Could make you ill?

How many more, are old souls?
The kind who dream more than they live.
The ones with nothing left to give,
Who've watched their past wash by,
Like sinking tides and rising skies.

But who are happy at the thought,
Who find comfort in the feeling,
Who yearn for those days again,
And get lost in the meaning.

The beauty in the flaws,
The words between the lines.
How staring into the distance can bring it all back.
How the rising sun did fade to black.

Because I remember.

When the past comes to haunt you,
and knocks upon your door,
what will you say?
When the worst is brought upon you,
and decides it's here to stay,
what will you say?
When love has been broken,
and surely tossed away,
what will you say?

Will you smile and say hello?
Or will you turn and look away?

What do I say.

I see you in the quietest of moments,
and I hear you in the midst of life's noise.
I've started at my feet with a needle and thread.
Stitching up my body, from toes to head.

It should be winter; but it's not.
I should be happy; I am not.
I should feel calm, but my stomach's in knots.

Sometimes getting what you ask for has a specific price.
Everything.

Have you learned to protect your heart,
From yourself?
To discipline your mind when it wanders?
Just like a small child,
I need guidance.
Recklessness rages as a river,
Through my soul.
A need to detonate.
To drastically change my path,
No matter that it’s the scenic route.
Can I learn to protect my heart?
From me?

Carefully holding on to his thoughts,
collecting his bearings.
The tears begin to slide outside,
without my permission.
Each word feeling wrong and raw on my tongue.

The silence holds us,
each in our own minds.

I long to feel his touch.
But I cannot bare to have him feel my scars.
These rigid bars keeping me locked within.

He musters up a weary smile.
*I will wait for you, always

Pins, pricking
at the heart,
waves, rippling
through the stomach,
thoughts, darting
from one to the other.

On the highest floor,
of the highest building,
on the highest hill,
looking down.

At my past life down on the ground.

It's in the soft wrap of a blanket,
The warm touch of the sun.
The loving look from a baby,
The gentle hold of your bed.
It's in the crisp bite of an apple,
The slow sway of the flowers.
The sweet music that fills you,
The joy of not worrying.

It's there.

It hurts to be here.
My mind plays fortune teller.
Predicting all future tragedies.
Mourning all possible losses.
Seeing myself gone.
My little one alone.
It's as if a bully lives in my head.
Taunting my happiness.
Pushing it down,
As it desperately tries to stand.
I'm confused.
And I've been waiting.
Have I always felt this way?
Have I crossed a line?
Should I be worried?
A silent intruder.
Stealthily hiding in my head.
Waiting for its turn.
To make a move.

I once sat on the other side of this hill.
All I could see was the dream,
the thick clouds, the burning colors.
Now I'm here. Now I made it.
And the calm is harder to bear than the storm.

We can't forget to whisper,
Sweet nothings in the night.
Please don't forget I love you,
When words turn into fight.
The hardest days have come,
But the best days are never far.
Stay with me my love,
Let's not let our hearts grow hard.

Our love is still here,
Hidden in the thorns.

I am a moth.
Drawn to the flame.
Burned.
Yearning for something we used to have.
For the people we used to be.
I've been trapped for a short while.
Lost in the dark.
You turn out the light.
My eyes can't adjust.
And when you dont mean to,
You turn my wings to dust.

When I think of seasons,
I don't picture colorful leaves,
Falling in delicate pattern.
I see highs and lows,
Valleys and mountains,
My sadness, my woes.
I can hear my past thoughts echo,
I can remember being happy.
But I cant feel it.
New joy is fleeting.
Falling.
Failing.
This season that I sit in,
Is frosted over, cold.

Mother moon,
In the dark.
Weird, reckless, moody,
With energy that could spark.
Divinity,
Infinity,
Illuminating femininity.
The parts of you,
Hidden from the world,
For fear of harsh words.
Misunderstood.
She's beautiful.
Shes strong and exact,
And necessary.
Shining in the dark,
Lover of the light.

It's not black & white,
It's blooming with color.
Complicated and simple at once.
The opening of flowers,
One by one,
Petals falling,
Onto stone.
We live, we die.
The story is what matters.
Not the ending.
Today may be a page,
Possibly a sentence.
And tomorrow?

So you danced the night away,
In your best black dress,
Champagne runs through your blood,
Wine roses shade your face,
And you can't help but think of him.

It's all so new.
It's young and shy.
And so are you.

But you know better.

Hoping for nothing,
And you can't help but think of him.