You sat next to me on loud yellow vinyl. I remember the way it sounded when you moved in closer because I couldn’t hear you. I wore a silk floral shirt, and right now I’m not sure why I ever got rid of it. I got rid of a lot of things I wish I… Continue reading Yellow Marine
The only time I've dreamed of flying I was laying next to you wrapped in white sheets. Originally written April 12 2018, in a room with sparkling lights.
Today I found some six-year-old writing hidden beneath an innocuous document title that spoke truths I’d yet to realize, but that’s not really the point. That’s not the place in my heart that’s aching, although it does ache when I think of her name. The point is in the truth; in speaking it, in all… Continue reading Today
Talk to him again. I did, but I don't want to cross it off, because it's something I want to do over and over again. In surprising places. In unexpected places. In places where I feel vulnerable and have the arrogance to believe I'm at peace, I want to be there, at that place, that… Continue reading No. 121
This was taken on a beautiful day at Roxborough State Park with someone new in my world who crept into it like the slow burn on a candle wick, altering the form of the life I'd built with wax. By the end of that year, I was changed. I don't know if it was inevitable… Continue reading Roxborough
I remember the mid-night dampness on the grass that cooled our sweat. I could swear I heard my heart shake the leaves. I don't think I'd ever seen stars lay so thick, but maybe I was never good enough to see them that way, my eyes too shut. My palms faced the sky, heavy veins… Continue reading Aztlan