adventure bound to meet,
she who makes me feel bittersweet
audacious in spirit, wild in practice
she follows the howling of wolves  

feet unconstrained by shoes,
traveling without sock
this girl feels the hobo blues,
stepping upon rock after rock

a journey freshly begun en masse,
this girl can travel where rocks can not
pristine and green upon fields of grass,
for there's a wrinkle in the path, a brown spot

a running start, a skip, and a hop
a landing so soft, slick, sliding to a stop
shes laughing and smiling, loving being a slop
though she must progress, there'st a desire to be atop

scented of petrichor, she advances under the clock of light
fingers intertwined, she walks with height on her mind
she climbs with only fear of the end of night,
feet dangling over the side, with satisfaction; unconfined

i long for a return when departure is yet to be
with few memories of this girl; ***** feet and scratches on her sides,
a wish that time does not distance her from me,
for she is where my attention resides

He was my first
love

He gave me butterflies

When we were together I needed to always
touch him
hold his hand
lay on his chest

He gave me anxiety

When we were apart I needed to always
hear him
know where he was
and who he was with

So many nights spent
laughing
loving
together

so many more spent
crying
alone

I gave him my heart
I gave him my body
I would have given him everything
I did give him everything

He cheated
He lied
and still he loved me
and stupidly,
I still loved him

I walked away
he broke me
finally
I walked away
carrying the pieces of my heart
In my young hands

He got engaged
(to the girl he cheated on me with)

I moved
out of this country and across the world

I patched up my broken heart
It took a long time
and a few one-night stands
there were pieces still missing
and scars where the cracks were glued
but I understood this heart much better
than before when it was whole

Now I'm with my new love

When we are together
We cuddle
We read
We watch movies

When we are apart
We send each other updates
and tell each other
I miss you
I love you

I don't always get butterflies
but I never have anxiety

Almost every night we
laugh
and
love

and when I rarely cry
I'm not alone
and he holds me
and says he's sorry
or I say I'm sorry

He fills the holes that were left behind
and my scars are nearly faded

But sometimes I think back to my first love
my young love
my innocent love

And although my first love
at times felt like
magic
buzzing bees
and hot electricity
running through my veins

my new love feels like
warm cookies
a sweater on a crisp day
sunshine in the cool wind
and home
And I know that this is better.

It was an accident
but my dad kept crossing
his legs, looking to the window.

None of us thought
the chick would make it to
morning. It would sooner

drown in the oncoming
thunderstorm, be picked off
by another set of jaws.

I am resolved
to teach my children,
“Nature is cruel.”

Next morning, the chick
is gone but birds are singing
and there's hope.

He could be anywhere.

Now mind is clear
as a cloudless sky.
Time then to make a
home in wilderness.

What have I done but
wander with my eyes
in the trees? So I
will build:  wife,
family, and seek
for neighbors.

                     Or I
perish of lonesomeness
or want of food or
lightning or the bear
(must tame the hart
and wear the bear).

And maybe make an image
of my wandering, a little
image—shrine by the
roadside to signify
to traveler that I live
here in the wilderness
awake and at home.