When I say I love,
I mean
I fall in 
whole,
swallowed up,
while it licks
its lips.
I am
human ruins
in
a wild man's fire.
The last fallen leaf,
victim of 
a strong storm's breath.
The empty lungs
of a collapsed truth.
The drained ocean
lost in paradise.

I am 
the bloody gurgle
of a war cry.

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how many times did we justify a scar
because we love the person
holding the knife?
how many times did we equate
a deep cut with equally deep love?
how many times did we convince ourselves that if anyone was allowed to hurt us,
it should be them?

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I don't have the vocabulary to describe it
because there are no words in any language
that would do it justice

"hopefully we have a very long time before that happens"

it hit me.
im very likely going to spend the last half of my life 
on the outside of what i want,
looking in at what i deserve.
wondering if that will be me next.
will you be in someone elses eyes?
and how that perso...

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I hope me leaving sparked something in him.
Something that shows him that
not every sacrifice made 
in someone else's name
makes you noble.
that you can be selfish and still be a good person.
that staying where you know
you don't belong is
a crime against yourself.
that we have one life
and we should act accordingly.
and that I love him, still, so deeply.

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you were so content
keeping me at arms length
so I ended up
in someone else's
with a trail of teeth
behind me

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my heart screams in echoes
and
I wish you could see
how far I've come since
you died.

how I brave the unknown
with my face in your hands.
how I leave no trace of fear
dripping from my mouth.
how every "yes"
is said with my whole chest.

this is how I love.
and every step I take
is with you

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I'm worried that I'm losing it.
and I don't know what "it"
is, exactly.
but I can feel it leaving.

my face has been numb 
this week,
but this time,
not from weeping.

I used to write passionately
about love that leaves
and fills my space with empty,
about being comfortable 
in my lonely,
about the chaos
in longing.

but if you beg the sky
hard enough
for long enough,
she will...

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I asked the universe
for you.
I asked for the scar
on your face
so I knew it was you.
I asked for 
the soft strength in your voice.
I told her 
that your eyes were made of gold
and you'd love books too.
I told her you were
quiet and patient.

and she listened.

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Falling in love can feel like failing when you look at it in the right light. Like surrendering to the unknown when you brush against the familiarity you once knew but now on a new face. A face you knew you'd meet months before it happened. When something in your gut told you he's coming and to stay put this time. When you dream about a scar that marks the person like hidden gold on a treasure map...

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it began with a glance,
a fleeting spark.
eyes meeting in silence,
washing away the dark.
the universe held in pause
while time stretched thin,
his hand brushes mine,
he feels familiar
against my skin.
a little less buried
with each time we kiss.
I cannot help
but to be swept 
further into bliss.

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"It takes time to live

Like any work of art 

Life needs to be thought about" 

To affirm your solidarity 

With the world 

At its worst 

To declare yourself life’s accomplice

Even in its thanklessness and its filth. 

How noble it must be 

To walk hand in hand with 

The very thing 

That circulates despair 

To show love and dedication 

In the face of certainty 

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it's all so violent,
to live and feel connected.
the things we do
and say
and make
and break
in the name of love

how many times we've waited
for the dust to settle before
we stand up and brush
the wreckage from our cheek
only to fall again
and again
and again

how we fold ourselves
so deeply into each other
only to recognize the vacant space
they used to hold for us

and when...

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i want to be forgotten.

i want the last time

someone utters my name

to be on the first day

of spring.

i want the world to

get acquainted with

a life without my love

and then

i want it to cry

because

it really was

better with me in it

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dear diary,

I am 40. And Im just now starting to find my footing. or a new footing. there's so much change that it's difficult to tell. But, love always has been and always will be the main plot of my life's story. Sadly it seems, though, that no matter how ferverently I emote what love is to me; how deeply, purely, selflessly I love, I am met with an abundance of resistance and find myself los...

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such a divine gift
lay draped around her neck.
angels pantomiming inside gemstone walls,
each shimmer of light
is a fight,
a scream,
a plea
for release.
grieving diamonds are still diamonds,
trapped in animosity.

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my eyes did give worship
to every hint of olive on his skin.
I whisper a Hail Mary
and surrender 
to the kiss of another bullet.

his armor, amatory.
mine, antiquated.
pray,
prey.

a pair of tangled beasts
never knew such beauty.
 

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atlas
echoes to the waters edge,
no fractured beauty in the
luminous lost in love.
from ridge
to crest
to flume, 
the olive in my skin
flutters.
veins
rust,
ripple,
and glimmer.
this deadened
parcel
coppers. 
dock your heart to mine
as we expire,
muted.

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this mirror doesn't look like it used to;
jigsawed together in dichotomous consummation.

fireflies once loved in falsetto,
now plumb to umber,
no less mystical
rather walking in slumber.
windows carry weight
and light is no longer peaching.
hands never raised,
no longer reaching.
hushed desire perched on lips,
showing but never speaking.

it's the loudness of action,
reaping what y...

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it is in the safety of the charred night,
one whose stars have been hand plucked
from the sky,
that I observe myself
in an infinite bliss.

the cosmos purr this sacred psalm of wonder,
this fresh breath of a new love
spilling from my lips
sets fog from core.

I thrust myself to the sky
time and time again,
and time again.
this precious consequence
leaves me 
numb and hungry
for an...

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to grieve is to know love intimately.

to pluck his voice from a crowd,
though I've not heard it in years.
to reminisce about my fingertips
reading his calloused hands like braille
and finding my next breath in every tactile.

to recognize any morsel of his being
in any dimension
and pledging patience to the search
in every lifetime.
to finding him.
and knowing he is ever present.

...

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peel your chin from the canyon,
drown your heart in rock salt,
and let the glow pour into every cleft.

feel the rumble in thunder.
let your feet meet the earth.
stand in symphony.

baptize yourself in rain.
cover your ears
and watch with marvel at the world.

let this breath be new.
strip the heat from your mouth
and gaze like linchpin.

rid your body of brittle.
soak in devotion...

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binding my roots to the earth 

is a sacred therapy.

my soul recognizes it

as muscle memory.

this holy walk on eternal plank,

brushing elbows with the grey

while i claw to escape my skin.

a draw of breath into infinite abdication,

bleeding out in memory.

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the universe plays its cruel tricks;
dressing my love in a body I must share
with a dying world.
but she is beautiful
and kind
and delicate
so I must learn to flourish in the shadows.

but I will him next to me
waiting to be enveloped in his arms,
lick the sweet sand,
and knead it against the tip of my tongue.
for the first time
I understand what it means
to summon a phenomenon 

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it's
fearful stutters
on lips with a lisp,
gaping wide open,
autopsy of the chest.

it's wretched.
and painstakingly
beautiful.

and oh, how I love it.

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I am covered in
bruises.
i love them because
they are proof
of all the times i fell...
in love.
i am covered in
scars.
i love them because
they are proof
of all the times i thought i fell...
in love
but something else was there to catch me.
i have scraped knees
from being dragged
thru life by my heart
because it moves
quicker
than my feet.

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the woodland hoarfrost dressing tendrils
 could no less love the light;
it is in this very conflict I find myself
in cavernous worship to both sides,
this delicate balance of paradox,
pirouetting on a sheet of glass,
untinged
by the busy of the world,
alive in its own concention.

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I was ready made for grief.

to live an ode to a common thing,
     this elegy to peace.

and on the days that I feel nothing,
     I torment the stillness behind my eyes
because feeling is proof of living.
and I so badly want to be alive.
     to dig deep in the scar garden,
     to excavate my hollow pit,
     to sow a lifetime of memories
     of being just out of reach.

it is my...

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I didn’t always have these roots,

There were years that

My hands were kites

And anywhere I laid my head was my home.

And suitcases were not anomalous 

And freedom wasn’t a forced prayer in school.

I didn't always have these roots,

There were moments that

Spread across forever 

And made time stand still.

And what I could carry was always enough.

I didn't a...

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one day I woke up
tired of taking the oxygen in my lungs for granted

so now I breathe
deliberately
and as I breathe

so I live

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