Right Outside My Window

Watch it as it goes
Out the window
And out into the world.
Watch as it no longer has a home.
Watch as it slowly slips through your fingers
But somehow you know it had a piece of your soul.

That void is opening, getting larger,
Slowly drifting out and now you wish it could come back home,
Even for a moment,
Just a moment to return the time
Where you could embrace it,
Or imagine what you could do
If you could pause it for a moment,
But it’s gone… it’s gone.

And it’s right outside your window,
Do you open your window
And let it accompany you as you wake?
Do you let it sing you to bed at night
As your heart slowly breaks?

And you watch it outside your window
As it slowly fades away
Into the distance,
Into a memory
That wants to walk away.

Grab onto the memory,
Let it linger and comfort you once more.
Just right outside the window
It’s telling you
‘Can I come in through the door?’

This piece came pouring out after the first two lines came to me in songThanks for reading.

you spoke to me

Eyes down,
eyes averted from the truth
I took a chance
A glance in your direction
Then your eyes met mine

Me in my red dress
You in that captivating charm
We couldn’t ignore the electricity that sparked
As we longed to embark on a fiery journey

It didn’t take much
A sly grin as a welcoming
A slight brush against my thigh
A beating began within our chests
And traveled to our loins
And we knew

And you said, “Now the real danger begins.”
It was a spark to ignite the nuclear holocaust
Everyone in its wake affected
caught by the fire
or deserted after the storm had passed

All I wanted was your hands lifting my red dress
To feel your warm breath next to my skin
To hear the song of poetry between two lovers
I didn’t want much but I craved it all
After that first taste.

A Birthday Poem

dust settles upon another year,
another book of memories
of short months and long nights,
tears wiped away again and again,
hard decisions made and my reflection says:
still I remain.

now a little stronger, a little wiser,
countless lessons learned,
and full of appreciation for love gained.

thankful for new connections,
others dismissed,
and others within fingertips reach.

out of it all
I am where I am;
no longer there,
on my way
with two feet planted
moving forward.

“Any change, even a change for the better, is accompanied by discomforts.” – Arnold Bennett

“Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.” – George Bernard Shaw

“Change begins at the end of your comfort zone.” – Roy T. Bennett

“Don’t be afraid of losing people. Be afraid of losing yourself trying to please everyone around you.”

Wrapped in Chains


Contemplating her next move
the pounding within her chest
told her what she already knew:

she was nowhere close to break free
from the chains wrapped ’round her so tightly.

With the escape route blocked;
there was no sense in moving
for every wriggle tightened the grip.

Accepting her fate, another day
in this God forsaken place,
if it was her own doing
then it shouldn’t hurt as much.

All there was to lose,
the ghosts of future memories:
the would haves,
could haves,
should haves,
ought-to-do’s,
that ran through her soul
every minute she looked out the window.

If she remained grounded instead of lifting her wings,
maybe she could get used to living this way.

“Just don’t move,” she whispered under her breath.
And there she lied
as ghosts of future memories continued.

Forgotten Opportunities

Now featured in NovaBards Anthology 2021

Throughout my time, it’s been seen
mistakes are easier to see than beauty.
We point out the negative, the faults.

They stick out and prevent us
from seeing the truth of the matter.
I find myself questioning if

it is in our nature or how we’ve been taught
to pick apart every detail and focus on
what could have been better.

Recently I found you, you misspelled tag
on a poem. And you, you forgotten period
at the end of a line. I found you too, you

misspelled word in a poem about the sun
shining down upon you. I see you all,
and you do this to me on purpose,

to show that we are not perfect,
to know that poetry is life and life is not perfect,
and love, our love is not perfect.

We are inevitably flawed and yet I wish it all
to be perfect. I want poetry to be perfect
as it pours directly from our hearts.

Beneath our skin, beneath our shell, our heart
pours out the truest form of emotions
and we strive to reflect our true selves in poetry.

It’s a cyclical battle:
we want to tell our stories,
we want to show who we are,
we want to become something greater
through poetry.

So, when I stop at those forgotten opportunities
I say, “I see you. I get you. I am you, too.”
for we have all been that forgotten detail in someone’s story.

Thank you for reading

Cravings

Like a box of chocolates sitting on the kitchen counter, the ones your doctor says to avoid but you bought them anyway because you deserve a chance to indulge in something sweet and it’s your only way of feeling complete after the rest of your life has been torn from you.

You nibble on them every now and then, or carefully slice a half here and there, because all at once is just too much guilt. Those cravings come despite trying so hard to ignore them. Staring you down in your weakness they taunt with, “just a little taste to satisfy your needs.” And that’s all you’ll allow yourself to appease the cravings.

With a hint of pure ecstasy rolling around inside, your heaving breast wishes it could last but knows it’ll end far too soon.

A Bleeding Heart

It’s getting late and we’re dying to find out
what’s fated us here tonight.

You dare to ask what I’ve done, where I’ve been,
I’ll tell you more than you’d want to know
so let’s start this off slow.

The truth can be a dangerous thing;
you can’t unhear it once the stories have cleared.

I’ve held the hammer to a bludgeoned heart,
been the reason love and light broke apart.

I’ve danced across graves at night,
celebrated the taste of freedom that was mine.

I’ve destroyed many with a single look
then let go of ’em before they could sink their hooks.

I’ve lived through it all with eyes glued to the sky,
as a witness without remorse, only living on the outside.

With a heart paralyzed and surrounded by flames,
I curated multiple tragedies as cupid’s arrow took aim.

With hearts discarded,
I’ve since repented and paid the price
of these words and actions of a former life.

My dear, on this night with you I promise-
my pounding heart is now yours. If you’ll take it,
please don’t open the glovebox where there lies a knife.

Take Two and Call Me In The Morning

original photo credit: Shutterstock

I wake to the sound of him
pinging my phone.
It’s too early for
bright-eyed longing stares
to the love of my life
as my eyes burn from
the phone’s bright light.

With eyes barely opened,
I reach over to tell him
“Good morning, my love.”
He sends his love in return
and I feel his love beating
through my chest from across the pond.

How his smile awakens every
nerve in my body, how it eases
every ache that arises as my body
shifts. If I lie here long enough
to soak in his beaming smile it’ll
surely eradicate the piercing forming
through every extremity.

Tender love is our medicine,
taken in various doses throughout
the day to coast along a high plateau.
And in this moment, our morning routine
of enchanting greetings and air kisses,
it’s exactly what we need.

A Dream Landscape

original photo from AdoreMe.com

Dream of love in lace
covering favorite go-to places.

Dreams far from anything you’ve ever recognized,
all desires realized.

Dreams that leave you transformed, molded,
leaving you painted in bold colors.

Dreams of the most flattering shapes
forming a perfect match of colliding lovers in a dream landscape.

A divine love operating with mouths agape.
Sighs, not words, are the only sounds that’ll escape.

The Houses Are Empty and We Cannot Be Saved

photo credit: Timothy Eberly on Unsplash

indulging upon a landscape
you longed to sink yourself into,

eyes scanned every inch where your
fingertips dutifully awaited to graze.

words escaped the space between us
as the air filled with sighs.

“I could write a thousand poems…”
you said as the sun came out from hiding.

and I realized how hollow the room felt
as the sun was the only one providing warmth from its rising.

we could both write a thousand poems
to sway other hearts

and yet we knew we couldn’t be
any more than this.