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.
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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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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”
A Free Verse Poem
An adoring look, a squeeze, a gentle reminder.
Wholesome moments and not so wholesome words.
Continue reading “There Are Days”
The downpour must be waiting for something.
A Free Verse Poem
All the spent brush littering the hillside to the right,
mostly brown to the left as well,
railroad tracks not far behind, hidden by the slopes.
“I swear it’s beautiful in the spring.”
Continue reading “By the River”
The heat of the lid is unbearable. My fingers have lost their ability to withstand that kind of warmth.
I swear I could handle it when I worked at a restaurant.
I could also heft those cardboard boxes containing a heavy bag of soda syrup.
Sometimes, I would gently poke a finger through the hole I would rip in the cardboard, feeling the squish of the plastic pouch and the sugar water.
I was never a huge fan of soft drinks before, but even less so after hauling those boxes around the basement and hooking them up to the tubing that ran to the soda machine upstairs.
I also don’t really eat food warm anymore, either. Flavors seem more balanced to me when they are at room temperature, but they’re not bad cold either.
I will make an exception this time.
Maybe I’m ravenous.
Maybe this food isn’t the only thing I hunger for.
Maybe I would like this moment to last a lot longer, but maybe I would like to get onto the next one and the next and the next.
I just hope those future moments are as good as this one.
All of this is to say yeah, I think I like it here.
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Happy International Women’s Day
and the nerves are electric
The heart is a muscle,
and the nerves are electric.
Through this ongoing bustle,
the world skews geometric,
Continue reading “The Heart is a Muscle”
On the edge of a cliff
the wrought iron form
of my heart,
not wanting to drop it
but needing to let it fall.
Continue reading “What is Love?”