One night after
a day of
let downs and
all the rest
I parked my car
in its spot;
let the engine run.
I couldn’t
step out
or turn the
engine off.
You came running
down the stairs
to my door.
You reached in,
turned off the car,
guided me out.
I thought maybe
that could be
enough
Fleeting
yet powerful
moments of love.
Tag: my writing
Temporary
I so badly wanted it
to be you.
It was temporary.
We were, that is.
That made it
no less real.
I sure did
like to pretend,
though.
I held on
just in case
i was proven
wrong.
Hands
I left you in July, started again in August. I’ll spend September wondering how you are. You sat there holding my hands, “I don’t want to let you go,” You implored, as if you could not see that I no longer knew the hands in my own. I knew you no more or no less than I had the July before or the one before that. “I miss that special bond,” He said to me, a week after. What bond is silent, I wanted to ask. What bond exists only in two laptop screens and a tv monitor a late night cuddle, a quick- paced walk. Perhaps you did know me more than I knew you. Maybe I let you know me. The me that left and rose from your bedroom floor knows not of how or why two years from the day I asked for promises changed everything I thought I wanted.
Split
“Stay present,”
He advises.
Lovingly;
Selflessly
“I don’t want
you split between
two places.”
I want to laugh
You see,
you’ve been with
me, in the
mountains of
West Virginia.
Along the shores
of the
Great Lakes.
I saw you in
the mouth of
Mammoth Cave.
When the fireworks
reflected in
the D.C. waters.
I haven’t left
your hometown
in weeks.
“I’ll do my best,”
I assure him.
I’ve been trying
to untangle my
feet
wrestle them into
one place
For over a year.
Full
Kisses fall to my forehead to the crevice of my neck "What are you doing?" I ask, laughing, holding his face between my hands. "I don't want you to run out." He kisses my forehead, again. "Then I need 10 more." He takes my face in his hands. "There," he responds, looking satisfied., "I gave you 12."
I wonder about the people the ones who slip off their coat and place it on the seat or above in the train's compartment I wonder about the ones who keep their coats on the ones who haven't yet settled in the ones who are ready to leave I think there's a real difference between the two.
28
I am
(I feel)
so loved
I could burst
in its glow.
Meditate
The doctor
asks me
if I meditate.
He tells me
it may help
alleviate
my anxiety
my (often) self-made
turmoil.
I smile.
“Sure,”
I say.
I meditate
in the mornings
when his
hand reaches
under
the covers
for my own.
I meditate
under the rays
of the rising sun
as I
listen to his sounds
of sleep.
I meditate
in the smell
of his skin
on the constellation
of his sun spots
in the wrinkles
around his mouth
as he smiles.
"Yes,"
I continue.
"I meditate every day."
I meditate
to my heart’s song
and the rhythm
it shares with his.
meanings
I see meaning
in the lovely
ways you
exist and
engage
in the world.
It's
in the way you
reminisce
about our first kiss
and the ramen noodle date
and the flirting that
grew to a
connection that
longed
for love.
It's
in the way you
sleep
on your stomach
one hand left open
for my own.
It's
your loving
touches
under the table
while we’re out
with our friends.
You called me
robust.
You called me
strong.
It's
the way you
don’t make fun
you do not dismiss
you support
and you encourage.
“I never want to let you go.”
I hope your words
mean as much to you
as they do
me.
I hope these loving
ways
mean what I
long for them
to mean.
love songs
Listening to
love songs
stir in me
feelings
of intimacy and trust
of security.
I like
hearing love songs;
they make me
think of you.
The Restless Crescent 