I don't know what to call it
unrequited love , maybe
One sided  for sure,
You occupied a space in my heart ,
A drug i couldn't resist ,
A habit forming one.

I longed for your smile ,
Those ocean eyes
Glittering with mischief ,
your stare gave me butterflies
And awoke an extinct part of me

Small details,
like acknowledging my name ,
Made me feel seen ,
Like i mattered .
You opened a gate
Between imagery and realism

I had long nights
Creating our world ,
Where we dominated
And no one else mattered
Yet you had another world -
One i wasn't included in

Still i let you occupy me ,
Even when my mind whispered .
My heart was busy resisting,
And now i doubt
If you even noticed me .

But no_
I will never regret meeting you .
You will always be apart of me ,
Just like a book
I will always refer to .

So this is goodbye ,
From a girl who once felt seen,
Who was ready to give her all ,
Yet was let down .

Sometimes
some people aren't meant to stay .
They are stories left unfinished ,
Those with no final chapters.
Maybe that's what you were

Maybe it's time i choose me
Over us
My dreams over him _
Because i deserve great things .
I always did .

He laid out some towels
She set a bucket right on top
The outside pitter patter
Echoed closely by drip drop
She plopped down on the couch and said
“I hate our leaky roof…”
He cozied up right next to her
“We’re newlyweds, it’s cute!”

The dog had left a pungent gift
Spread out across the floor
They tied cloth around their faces
Prepared to go to war
They scrubbed the ground on hands and knees
He, unusually mute
She poked his side with smiling eyes
“We’re newlyweds, it’s cute!”

Baby two cried till blue
Every other hour
And baby one learned to run
Too young for such a power
People seemed to judge and stare
Her cheeks turned rosy red
He raised his voice, ignoring glares
“It’s cute! We’re newlyweds!”

She zipped up the dress
He escorted down the aisle
And gave away his baby girl
His heart in full denial
The newfound silence of their home
Was echoed in his head
She played their own first dance song
“It’s cute, we’re newlyweds”

Years spilled by, the kids had kids
Less heed was paid to clocks
Days now passed in reading chairs
With simple meals and long walks
They shuffled down the sidewalk
At a careful, measured pace
Their scooting right in sync,
A peculiar kind of grace
She paused to rub her fingers
His hands were also wrung
She raised her deep-set eyes to his
“Do you ever miss when we were young?”

His wrinkles seemed to lengthen
As a gleam came to his eye
His mind replaying memories
Of leaky roofs and a spirited bride
Then he looked at the woman beside him
Sore with the weight of life
And for a moment he stayed silent
Overwhelmed by his beautiful wife

“I don’t miss when we were young
Though time has worn us down
The love I had for you back then
Cannot compare to now
I’ll brave a thousand achey bones
Just to take slow walks with you.
Besides,” he took her hand in his
“We’re newlyweds, it’s cute.”

Picture this.
The edge of a summers day stretched out along the curve of a beach
Sun beaming out like a heartbeat
Steady and warm from its place on the lip of the horizon
I follow that curve until I find you there,
Warm from the sun
.
The crackle of a driftwood bonfire, that surges a million sparkling prayers out into the deepening sky
does not create anywhere near the amount of sparks as we do
When I catch that soft look in your eye

I've got a beat in my head,
A Song in my heart.
It sings like a whistling bird,
And coos like the softest of the dove's
sweet voices,
Alit with prose in a foreign tone.

I've got a beat in my head,
An idea in my heart.
It hammers with a beat all its own
And takes the pen outside my hand,
A true work of art like a flourish of the wrist and a movement of the hips.

I've got a beat in my head,
A fire in my heart.
It burns like a wildfire
Tearing through a forest in the midst of summer.
A burning hot smoke blasting into the air.

I've got a beat in my head,
A drum in my heart.
It makes a sound like a call to war,
A soldier's cry accompanies
The marching of the many boots.

I've got a beat in my head,
A whisper in my heart.
A life of beauty to be lived,
Like the little one's sweet nothings
In the dead of night.

I've got a beat in my head,
And ink in my heart.
A desire to write,
The stories that inspire
The life that we all so fervently chase.

I don’t know if this is
the right way to say it,
But is that what you remember of me?
Was it when I said, “It’s okay”—
While anger crept in quietly?

Deluded, unsure of how to be,
Light arrived, just as suddenly.
I was everywhere around them,
aching to stay,
Yet piece by piece, I faded away.

It was a sickness that sought me out,
Shattering all I was — no doubt.
And maybe the only part I played
Was trying to rise… not let grace fade.

I love you like a wind-
That never breezed
My warmth for you is like a winter
That wouldn't get too cold

A love so kind and caring
Like a bird spreading its wings
And a dog running free
Perhaps a bee that keeps its stings

I love the sun a little more-
When you're around to watch
I love the pouring rain
Or the stars I cannot touch.

Old men sit
in plastic pink lawn chairs,
smoking cigarettes
halfway down our street.

Counting the cop cars that drive by,
One. Two. Three.

They laugh
with heads thrown back
and missing teeth

at little boys who
roll and play in shopping carts,
crashing-
One, Two, Three!

Little boys lay
in the space between
grey gravel road
and thirsty green grasses.

They laugh
with heads thrown back
and tiny white teeth.

been thinking of you lately,
every thought of you spoonfed to me on a hot summer breeze.
the kind that makes you exhale extra hard, racing for the next breath.

i crush the lavender sitting in my vase every evening
with my bare hand, just enough until it reaches my nose.
it doesn't make me think about a hand around your throat,
but it permeates the air just as sweet.

the fresh and rotten cherries knock on my window the next evening,
and i'm still looking for you between the mirage lines.

i open the window, and it's as sugary as a cherry pit.
no, not that one, the pit in my stomach.
the butterflies welcome the rotten core, a cannibal feast.

if you knocked on my door the next day i'd
imagine it as something like a little bit of both.
a pit in my stomach and a hand around your throat.

your hair smells like an unaired room from bygone summers.
the fan is turned on low speed, and my neck is stiff from the draft
and turning towards the window.