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is this my home?
spinning ‘round n round
going from high to low
and back ‘round again.

is this that place where a heart feels heard
and shoulders ease?
for far too long the tongue’s been tied
and the shoulders tense

from being left in the dark
because my stories don’t matter.
the voice has been shushed
and pushed into a corner steadily decaying.

do you hear me
as you untie my wrappings?
do you wish to pull out my stories
while uncovering my parts and pieces?

do you turn the lights on
and keep them shining,
to see all of me?
or do you take only what you need?

is this where I belong
or do I hide in the dark
to seek comfort and refuge
from a stranger’s company.

i would tell if you asked.
i would say so if only you took the chance.

The Looking Glass

the looking glass
possesses fragments of a view.
surrounding figures and forms
collapse as our fingertips meet.
yet, steady is the scene
encompassing pieces of you.

limbs undulate tenderly
with the slightest breeze.
wildflowers spread their seeds
dropping impressions
attempting to gain greater visibility.

such bits linger out of view,
boulders that were planted eons before,
torrential rains that flooded these plains
leaving ridges deep and wide.

yet, this singular slice,
the object of my heart’s deep affection,
is purely the only matter
that requires my line of direction.

image source: https://twitter.com/Bettyxx84/status/1348674161623887876?s=20

Cupcake Dreams


moonbeams and cupcake dreams.
sugar highs into the night.
we’re whispering nothings,
how our lives could be.

knowing the truth,
looking into your eyes
you are the moonlight
in my darkest of nights.

so, love, break my heart
into a thousand pieces
because all of my insides
are craving your sweet creamy filling.

This poem can also be found in Coffee Shop Sessions III: In the Arms of Love.

nous avons tout le temps

This poem has been revisited often in the past few months. The original poem can be found here: Nous Avons Tout Le Temps Pour Nous. This final version below can also be found in Coffee Shop Sessions III: In the Arms of Love.


in the crowded city streets
sinking further on a midsummer’s night,
flooding puddles inch higher
as tiny tragedies.

can i make it there in one piece
or will he see the disaster that is me?

reaching for the door,
i let out a ‘just breathe’
then gingerly step into the world
where we’ve arranged to meet.

will this turn out exactly how it should have been?
i still believe that timing is everything.

standing to greet me,
his butterflies swarm from first sight.
yet my nerves have rattled for hours
ever since i stepped onto the international flight.

our smiles start to ease
as we embrace the shared space.
so many questions begging for relief
but we’d rather sit and stare into each other’s face.

soaking up this anticipated moment,
we catch eyes between sips of our coffee & tea.
although he doesn’t believe in fate or destiny,
i know this was all meant to be.

i let him take his time,
process all the angles of view,
tell him we’ll start with all the things
we had planned to do.

and we will.
we have the time.
we have all the time.
we have all the time for us.