The space between us is not just miles—  
it’s the ache in my ribs when I breathe,  
the way my hands forget their purpose  
without the weight of your hips to hold.  

I am a house with no windows,  
a room where the light refuses to stay.
  
The world feels like a poorly written script—  
everyone else is laughing, but I can’t find the joke.  

I want to kiss you so badly it feels like a crime,  
like the universe has locked your lips in a glass case  
and hung a sign that says Do Not Touch.
  
But I would break every rule,  
shatter every law of physics,  
just to feel the warmth of your mouth on mine.  

I miss the way your voice wraps around my name,  
how it sounds like a prayer I didn’t know I needed.
  
I miss the way your laughter spills into the room,  
a symphony I’d trade my silence for in a heartbeat.  

I want to marry you—  
not in the way they show in movies,  
with the white dress and the perfect vows,  
but in the way that feels like coming home,  
like finding the missing piece of a puzzle  
I didn’t even know I was solving.  

Without you, the world is a grayscale film,  
a song played on a broken piano.
  
I am a shadow of myself,  
a half-finished poem  
waiting for your hands to write the ending.  

Come back to me.

Or let me come to you.
  
Let me close this distance,  
this unbearable, infinite space  
that feels like it’s swallowing me whole.  

I am not whole without you.
  
I am not anything.

We don't say much, that's

how we speak with each other --


Still full of longing.

At the rumble of a badger's yawn
At the crack of a sparrow's ****
At the pang of his weakened bladder
That's when he makes his start

With the scrape of greying stubble
With the shine of derby brogues
With a perfect Windsor knot
That's how my husband rolls

At the slam of the panelled door
At the echo of a muttered curse
At the march of polished steps
It's only then that I emerge

Candlemass, the day
of Mary, the ideal woman
and mother, a sign
for those who then marry
and celebrate their happiness

The evening and morning
are a day together
uncovered, without shame
and without sacrifice that diminishes
their sense of being great

and the evenings and mornings
are a life together
the children grow up
and mark in the year
the days of their parents

with attention, as
a daily effort to be
each other's ideal
attention, the secret
of every relationship

When it happened, I was very angry and I was also stunned.
My wife filed for a divorce just because Donald Trump won.
My wife is smart, sophisticated and she's also very pretty.
But I learned that she's also superficial, shallow and petty.
My mother always told me to appreciate what I've got.
But if you're wondering if I still appreciate my wife, I sure as hell do not.
When she broke my heart, she didn't even feel remorse.
After seventeen years of marriage, she filed for a divorce.
I begged her not to leave but she packed her bags and walked out the door.
I was hurt at first but I've learned that I'm lucky not to have my wife anymore.
For a while I couldn't stop crying because what she did cut me deep.
But I'm a fortunate man to no longer have her because she's a creep.

Twin typhoons merge to one heraldic storm
Stand those who witness your travel
As the bow of ships sway to your passing
Sweeping that which is stagnant
For you bear the seeds of change
Bringing anew the source of survival

As the two I's of the storm cross
They form the one You
To imagine what came before
To see in the mind the force of the individual serves no justice
The support of the other comes naturally with the wind
Your energy and direction is one
Forces of nature made inseparable

May all touched by your rain take root
May the sun bring warmth to your harvest
And may the moon guide your travels

~
the night starts here,
the night starts here
in the dunes,
fixed in time;
incipient waves falling into place,
their subtle purpose
to roll over and sing;
the fountainhead above us,
like it's above the shore,
attaching softness to a shell.

we blew on a dandelion
and the whole world disappeared;
love is a mysterious shape,
love is a remembered rhythm.

I have trembled
my way deep,
I'm a guest in here,
drinking at the stream,
seeking bliss in
the plural homemade kiss:
peppermints and orchid rain.

we please the night,
we please the night in interlude,
and it merrily leaves us that strand
of pearls called "good morning."
~

Our first snowfall
two teenagers driving through Maryland’s quiet streets,
snowflakes soft as whispers,
pausing the world, binding us in its stillness.

Years later, Montana welcomed us,
its snow blanketing base housing,
our son’s laughter rising like smoke in the cold.
Soon, we welcomed our daughter,
her presence as gentle as freshly fallen snow,
our family growing beneath the frosted skies.

In New Hampshire, snow wrapped us as four,
a family held close through a winter of unknowns,
its quiet presence a reminder of resilience,
of love weathering every storm.

And now, in Florida—
where the sun reigns and snow should be a stranger,
it falls again.
Five hours of wonder cascading from the heavens,
a gift from the elements,
blessing this home, this moment, this us.

Snow has followed our beginnings—
each new chapter marked in white.
It shields, it cleanses,
a quiet protector cloaked in frost,
a sacred pause to reflect, to remember,
to hold close the warmth of our bond.

May it always find us,
this quiet magic,
this pure renewal,
reminding us that wherever we are,
we are blessed,
we are whole,
and we are home.

It’s no secret, my want
for someone to take care of me
without their back to the wall
of a sunk cost fallacy
Don’t let me be a burden -
if you don’t want to, then quit
I miss the way you loved me
when you were mostly lying

Be alone with me again,
like when we were friends
and the benefits were worth it -
naked but not always *******
You’re never a burden
My identity is erased
It’s hard to love you or anyone
when I have nothing for myself

She saw her watching him;
her eyes filled with the greatest desire and affection for him.
It was too much for her.
She saw the love she held was obviously greater than hers.
And so she let him go; refusing to hold onto him when he had a greater love waiting for him.

She believed her love as not great enough.
That he was not worthy of the little that she could bring him.
So now she waits,
So now she heals.
Her love could never be enough.
Her love was never enough.

But she knew that she was enough.
Because unlike herself, her God knew
true love, Agape love.

And her God was willing to teach her how to love others.
But first,
He taught her how to love herself.