love is

our unkept bed on a Sunday morning
clothes thrown on the floor
candles burned down to no wicks

sleeping off last nights tangled limbs
on the grey leather couch
infinity in crystal blue eyes

palm to palm, fingers entwined our lifelines cross
counterbalancing personalities complete the circle
protective of what is within

so familiar our anatomical embrace
we breathe shared air
beats in autotune, universe intact

i lay on my bed
writting poems, writting our lasts moments of love,
our memories.
Remembering myself why i fell in love with you
and why you're so worthy of every tear that has come through
my eyes.

I hope someday far away from this present your soul and mine
could connect the same way it once did.
In the meantime, may our souls be apart from each other.
For your good and for my bad.

I have always been weary
of putting names in my poems
in fear that I will never be able to take
my confessions back
but when is a good day to tell you
that I have loved you in every lifetime

In the past we were entangled in each other

One life we were shooting stars
another we laid lazily in fields of wildflowers
a love too strong to explain through words
so we didn’t speak
instead you embodied the beauty of spring
a way to remind us of those April days
when nothing existed outside of each other

We hid our love behind buttercups and daisies
maybe that’s why I love to bring you flowers
to feel the flicker of a spark we shared
in a lifetime so long ago

In another lifetime we read quietly together
over coffee in smoky French cafe’s
we underlined passages
that we would read each other in secret
our love withstanding a time
when it was criminal to look at one another
with the type of love we shared

I don’t know if I have ever loved you loudly
there are no muscle memories
of me shouting your name from rooftops
or unapologetically holding your hand
without fear of repercussions
—even now I don’t know how to form the words
“I love you”
without looking around to see who’s listening
even after all this time I love you in secret
I still can’t put your name in my poems
but i promise in one of our lifetimes
I’ll write your name in every poem
and tell you that I’m in love with you out loud
someday the words
won’t feel stuck in my throat
but I hope that’s in a lifetime sooner than later

Take your hand in mine
As I lead you through time
I hoped you’d be here for this
This is not something you’re  gonna wanna miss
Let’s reminisce about how we first met
We were at the coffee shop you hadn’t ordered yet
You looked at me with those beautiful green eyes.
I swear my heart melted on sight.
You asked me for my name. I swear you felt it too.
That we would be together, our singleness was through.
We talked, we had a lot in common.
I knew it was a good omen.
Then I got brave and asked you out for a date.
And the rest is history… My life with you is great.

Before the Autumn reaps, don’t you believe that tree’s leaves would enjoy knowing the feeling of reaching and holding another’s branches? All the while these trees cannot conceive of such things.


I like to envision the brain of a dandelion as it tenderly caresses the faces of other dandelions. Before the wind sweeps away with their heads spreading each one’s likeness across distant lands. I bet they’d hold on to one another, these seeds, to the seeds of their lovers hoping to exist together upon the reaches of greener grass.


It’s not unlike me to marvel at what a miracle consciousness is. How lucky we are to share it despite all of its pains. All the while these dandelions might never see their own likenesses the way I can divine myself reflected back in my child’s smiling eyes. It’s such a blessing to conceive of such things. -six pm