lovers

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.

You’re So Sentimental

*spoken word*

he says as it relates
to a date
of another first
we’ve had.

It reminds me of things
I shouldn’t hold onto.

It shouldn’t matter
when I first noticed
the way light hits his beard,
or how his colors blend
as in a Monet,
only that I see them.

It shouldn’t matter
when those butterflies first flew
from our insides;
only that they fly every time.

It shouldn’t matter
the date of our birthdays;
every day we exist
should be celebrated.
Our presence is a gift.

Yet I die a little every time
when it doesn’t matter.
Details matter.
And I love all of our details.

Memories serve as my card catalog
to pull out certain pages of our story
at any point in time.
The who, what, when, where, and how;
all those details matter.

If you want to know the song that played
as we kissed on Christmas Eve,
I’ve got it.
If you want the song that played
as we made love in my college apartment,
I know that one, too.
For when I hear those songs again, I set myself
into that space, that moment, that Autumn afternoon
as the sun set and we slipped quickly into the night.

I have them all stored and ready to play,
just say the word.

It Can Be Wonderful and Terrible, But It Always Tickles the Right Spot

The way grey hits the wooly fibers across his chin,
like individual spikes of a wheel
poking in multiple directions,
with fusing colors like a Monet.

I graze my fingers through the fibers
like walking through cornfields
with long, mysterious paths that
lead to depths I long to uncover.

He rests his hand upon his cheek,
pondering his next move
then stroking back and forth the ebony & ivory,
like the piano keys he gently plays for me.

The tune of his melody, deep and sweet,
intrudes my darkness, brushes away
the sagging of years upon my back,
and aligns our eyes to meet.

nous avons tout le temps pour nous

The summer’s ritual of an evening rain gushes down upon my large umbrella. I quickly step to dodge flooding puddles surrounding me. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing most of my life, avoiding disasters. But the person awaiting my arrival, he is my safe haven. Everything leading up to this moment, although it may have been disastrous at times, is exactly how it should have been. I pull to close the umbrella, brush a few raindrops from my face, take a deep sigh, and pull open the door to the coffee shop where we’ve arranged to meet. He stands to greet me. My nerves are shot, and I can’t for the life of me know where to begin. I squeeze out a nervous smile. We’ve already reconnected for the past year but, this is the first time I get to see him again and I’m uneasy. Do I start from step one, see where this goes? Do I immediately pull into the throes of a lover’s embrace? So many questions racing for an answer. I want to turn off the questions in my mind, sit here and stare at him for a while. Order a coffee & tea, and say something, anything to believe that this was all meant to be. I want him to teach me a few phrases I have yet to learn and do all the things we have left to do. And I know we will. We have the time. We have all the time. We have all the time for us.

Thanks for reading. This is an edited repost from August 2020.

The Arrival


the approval has been granted,
the lift of the travel ban,
the ticket longed for is now in hand

three days scheduled
in glorious summer heat
with a lover’s heart in waiting

greeted at the airport
a loving embrace
and staring deep into each other’s face
before a long evening at an outdoor cafe

between smiles exchanged
we smooth out spaces
between places that haven’t
been touched in years

a lean in, a whisper
and a sudden rush off to the hotel
the night is a dream
flames, sparks flicker
and before we know it
the time has disappeared

daylight returns
breakfast ensues with a spread of delights
the agenda of walking around museums no longer appeals
all that’s needed to be seen
is right here

this is not my own

rip out my insides,
pull out the intestines
from the gut punches bruised,
the heart that heaves
and beats rapidly for thee,
the mind that overthinks
and runs ceaselessly over everything,
pull it all out,
it does nothing for me,
it only runs for you.

my hands were made to hold only you
my arms were made to embrace you
my legs were made to wrap around you
my hips were made to rise and sink
with your every move
my lips were made to kiss only you
my eyes were made to only see you

i, and this body, was made
for you

One More Moondance, My Love

Originally published in Clay Literary’s RAVEN: https://www.clayliterary.com/post/raven-issue-eight-09-06-2020

A cool October evening presented itself in front of us,
the full moon in the sky hovered above, and the tension
between us lent itself to lyrics that resonated to every

following Autumn. ‘Can I just have one more Moondance
with you, my love?’ you sang as we walked arm in arm. It
was our first song, my first song sung to me. And to this

day, the smile, the tone of your voice, the way you
captured me, still sends shivers right through me.
From the first taps of the piano to the trumpet blaring

three-quarters of the way through, it all sends me back
to you. I halt everything to remember your voice, your smile,
to be wrapped in a moment with you once again.

in your flood

one step out the door
one step forward
one step closer
to the flood

one step backwards
one step in reverse
one step away
from drowning

a punch to the gut
and tears streaming,
more than the smiles
more than the ‘i love you’s

and how many more years like this
how much can i take like this

i agreed to ever after
but this now, these lows
i can do without
i barely survive the crash
before the next one arrives

give me time to breathe
give me time to survive
give me time in the clearing
before i drown
in your flood