One day, when the moon is in the sky, I will reach out to touch it. I might hope for an embrace that it cannot reciprocate. I might stumble in its light. I might weep. I might struggle to move that insurmountable rock. I might try to replace it with other rock. I might lean against craggy walls, learning what every cliff face looks like from the bottom. I might hurt.
One day, when the sun is in the sky, I will tap my fingers on the dining table. The wood might maintain my prints. It might not. I might stare longingly out the window. My gaze might race to meet the horizon faster than my legs could ever run. I might lie down on the floor. I might rest. I might face my greatest fears. I’m not sure I yet know what those are.
One day, when the moon is in the sky, I might not be there to see it.
featured photo by Dids via Pexels
feet stay planted firmly,
immune to the
and yet the fingers tap,
the body sways,
betraying the resolute
Photo by Alex Fu
Smoke and soot.
A candle left to burn for too long.
A campfire just waiting to become cold.
Waiting for another winter.
Beige and brown and chopped.
A recently demolished treehouse,
now a childhood memory.
Photo by Erik Mclean via Pexels
We pluck some of the seedling plants to make room for the others, and I tell you my hair has gotten too long.
You tell me that the book without words made you cry, and I tell you, “Me, too,” but without saying anything aloud.
Your hand rests on my thigh just above my knee as I drive. Your touch reminds me of sunshine.
I think I can smell the pulse under your skin. You show me how it’s right beneath the surface.
I make you promise to dance with me in the kitchen.
So many disparate truths build a life and a happy one at that.
I don’t know where to go from here.
You say, “Forward, of course.”
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a free verse stream of consciousness poem
Virtual connection with nearly ten thousand people—
My ancestors never knew
such kinship and overwhelm.
My body is separated from the laptop
with a thin mustard yellow blanket.
There’s beauty in these human voices.
There’s beauty in these typed out words.
People on my screen or in?
My sweater is warm.
My bare feet are cold.
Outside, the air is nearly still.
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My bed still isn’t pushed up against the wall the way we talked about, but I don’t mind that. What I mind is that it will be half empty tonight and not nearly as warm.
Speaking of mind, I can’t seem to get you off of mine. My brain leans into thoughts of you the way my body might lean into a reassuring hug. I feel embraced and not suffocated by that presence. I didn’t know that was possible.
I remember your arms. I think of how they look reaching, how they look working, how they feel safe.
I used to fantasize about fantastical places and a luxurious life, but this safety is more than enough. In fact, it is what I didn’t know I was searching for. It is everything I ever wanted.
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If diamonds form under pressure, then I am not a diamond.
Or maybe I am.
Continue reading “Diamond Lies”
We are the poetry of the streets,
youthful and full of ambitions.
Cacophony rising as voices mingle
at night when we wander together.
There are no quiet hours.
Continue reading “Youthful and Full of Ambitions”
the ocean a stand in for a thousand things I want to say to you
the sea a million twinkling metaphors
Continue reading “Aqua”
A Free Verse Poem
An adoring look, a squeeze, a gentle reminder.
Wholesome moments and not so wholesome words.
Continue reading “There Are Days”