Years’ worth in our days swirl in our thoughts of lovely hands clasped in ours with no resolve of ever letting go.

Though the fates and sanguine melancholy conspire to break the bonds nothing can keep this sight from being enthralled

shall he, happiness dancing waltz with the sea, ever forget?

The tempest-swept shore of unyielding grace remains true to the beacon, be it in the peaks or prairies; a promise,

no matter how trampled still blossoms without the acquiescence of seasons, be they winter or spring,

until the day a tombstone is offered and a coat rack for weariness to hang,

no smiles will eternally be wasted on a frown as is with fear will be on Pennywise the clown.

We are here, and we are now until we become yesterday, our hearts unbowed

And yet, long after light has left times eyes, and last fogging breath has been drawn,

the echoes resound, love, unyielding, seared into the skin of eternity.

Strands of flesh, a promise, binding lives that once strobed like starlight, the universe chants with shared joys, sorrows, and dreams.

For every stumble, every fracture, every tear that pelted our time, we rise, reforged in the fires of devotion’s heat.

Love is no fleeting gale but the tide that shapes continents, despite the world’s cruel dissonance, harmony prevails.

And when the final curtain falls on this fleeting stage, let it be known we did not merely survive but thrived, kindled.

I don't know how you do it
It's like you can read my mind
Even in those days when I feel
My head is as busy as time square in the middle of a beautiful summer night

In the glow of screens,
we gathered,
Farmville requests from aunts,
a world of laughter,
simple joys shared like sunlight,
photos blooming like flowers,
each snapshot a moment held close.
But shadows crept in,
voices grew louder,
arguments ignited in the digital crowd,
once a haven for stories and cheer,
now a battleground,
where fear and anger drown out connection.
Oh, to step back,
to mute the noise,
to cherish the small moments,
to find joy in simplicity.
Can we learn to listen?
To hold our space with care?
To share our truths without fear of judgment?
Imagine a world where we pause,
where empathy reigns and understanding flows.
Let’s reclaim the joy of a simple post,
the warmth of shared memories,
the bonds that matter most.
If we could remember how to talk again—
to share our lives without the weight of expectation,
to celebrate each other’s stories as our own.
Maybe then we can find our way back,
to laughter and support,
to kindness woven through our words.
And maybe one day,
we will step into that light again—
not as warriors in an endless fight,
but as friends seeking connection,
hearts open to the beauty of being together.

coffee rings stain the tablecloth
empty creamer pods pile up by the silverware.
the old man finishes his omelet off
while his grandson rocks in his chair.
the new dads outside smoke and cough
avoiding their wives' disapproving glare.
the waitress sits me at a tabletop
and I take in the fullness of the air.
the light in the room takes me like a moth
a moment fleeting is still a moment worth the care.
I eat breakfast every Saturday at Roth's
this diner where all our stories are shared.

We live in between the break
Of things,
Mostly broken and curled up
Into each other.
The glow of the screen,
The result of a million jolts
Crammed into one place.
I suppose we do need things
To spend our money on.
Things that we can add to our dreams.
Especially if it doesn't interrupt
What we've waited all day to watch.

For two broken pieces
Sitting together on the couch,
That's alright.
Of all the times you've appeared
In my dreams,
I cannot tell you what perfume
You had on,
Or what designer brand you wore
From any of the commercials
I've seen.
But when our show goes on break
Or whatever movie we're watching
goes off,
The best advertisement I've seen
Is the way you look at me