All the grief,
all the pain –
I accept it
with both hands,
for it was given
to me
by the one
I love

to be lasted over, but never met.
to be desired fiercely, but never held.
a fantasy. a fetish.
they see you as a threat.

they dream the dream of your idea,
all you represent.
they reach to touch you freely,
but flinch when you touch back.

because they feel it:
your wholeness is too heavy
to carry on their back.
your layers too tangled
to play with just one thread.
your words anchor too deeply
to catch in fishing nets.

you scare.
you amaze.
you trigger.
so they retreat instead.

they give up before even trying
to walk a mile with you.
because they see
the space you take
just being you.

I tried hard to forget,
never to look back,
not to stay still, but move on –
Yet, all roads lead me
back to your heart.

You went away from my life,
now, you are out of my sight,
but you continue to reside in my heart.

My world is not yours anymore,
your heart doesn't feel my love anymore,
you have shut me out of your life,
erased all my memories of the past.

Yet...all my efforts failed me,
for all the roads lead me
back to your heart.

There is a digital world that entices with its promises of curated realities. Do you want to be the ceo of your own business? You can, online. You want to be a famous music producer? You can be! …Online. People are saving the world and making fortunes, online.  People are falling in love! Online. The webs that connect us are not magic, they are made of our choices to connect. Connecting to the broader web connects everyone, and every stinkin body belongs, online.

short and thin, bending
to the wind. My head is
close to the ground. Green
as the grass I live in a tight

circle mound. Bigger than
a seedling, but not wholly
sprung. I'm just a pearl
that has yet to be

strung. No flowers
or fruit hang from my
branches. But I can grow
as big as an old farmer's

ranch is. If the cornflower
sky sprinkled me with a misty
kiss and the buttered *** sun
danced on my leaves I'd promise

you this. I'd rise to heights
tall as the mountains,
having an eagle build an
aerie on my branches. Spying

an eaglet scratch her way to the
the outside world from inside an egg
is joy. I cannot be cloyed by nature's
excess. To me, it only loosens the stress.

She’s right here.
Her body’s inches from mine
and it’s still unbelievable.
Not in the dramatic way,
not like in books
just this steady, solid hum in my chest
that won’t go away.

I watch her breathe.
Nothing more.
Her chest rises,
then falls,
then rises again.
And somehow,
each time feels like proof
I haven’t done everything wrong in this life.

The air in the room is warm
the kind of warmth that lives between bodies
that trust each other.
That kind of warmth you don’t talk about
because it disappears the second you name it.

Her arm’s curled under the pillow,
shoulder bare.
There’s a tiny freckle there
I swear I’ve never noticed,
and now it feels like I’ve discovered something
no one else has ever seen.

Her legs are twisted in the blanket
like she’s half-dancing in her sleep.
Her lips are parted just enough to make me wonder
what dream she’s inside of.

I don’t want to wake her.
I don’t want to leave.
I don’t even want to blink too long.

Because this is it.
Not a fantasy, not a memory.
Not a wish, or a poem, or an idea.

She’s here.
I’m here.
And the silence is full.

Not empty.
Not lonely.
Not waiting for something else.
Just full.

I don’t need more.
Not a word, not a kiss.
Just this moment,
this breath,
this woman
sleeping beside me
like peace decided to wear skin
and crawl into bed.