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Love comes to the hands of those who never stop believing she exists Rewarding daydreams of salt-sprinkled kisses on foreign streets Sand squishing beneath feet Solely searching for the grandest of adventures

I couldn’t help but notice the quiet mischief in your gaze Wondering how long you’ve kept your wild tied up in a neat little bun and side bangs Tonguing fires behind your teeth Rolled up small talk in a slow burning leaf  Extendo innuendos licked between your lips Perhaps in the past I’d given your fake smiles and hidden pain a follow Let me be a whore for all the pieces of yourself you thought I needed liquor to swallow

Your lips are the sweetest poetry I’d ever dare taste.. even Juliet would whimper for the scent of your petals, a brush of your skin tempting the horizon to shiver and beg for endless night

I may have lied When they approached me Asked me if I wanted to perform my usual brand of heartbreak I mean, poetry I said, sure Like it hadn’t occurred This drought of words A taste so obscured on my parched tongue Everything resembles dust to me currently A hint of salt in the corners of my cheeks Streamed with cliche similes About how we were supposed to be like soulmates or something Twins baby You’ve been consuming me since utero Reflection of yet another reason I have to go Irish exit before the next gaslit convo I lied when I said I understood your boundaries meant slowly dissipating into dimly lit shadows of what we used to call loving each other Did you know you were lying when you claimed this would be our last forever? Honestly, I miss who we used to be There is a part of me who thinks we’ll never stop existing in the forgotten corridors of things we gave up on I think I lied when I said I’m done With you and your crumbs Truth is, those crumbs have been the best poetry I hav...

Why haven’t I blocked you? Why do I still talk to you When you chose to walk away Even when I begged you not to  I’ve cut other cords before no problem Was halfway out the door myself Wouldn’t have even stopped them …with you it’s different Not just a problem, a sickness A condition, I can’t help it No matter how much madness inflicts, I just can’t quit Heartache addict.. I prefer the white noise static between us over silence It kills me slowly Seeing your number across the screen I deleted your name at least Just to imbed your number in my memory Like carvings in my heart I’d have to cut this whole tree down just to tear your initials out

Love, you You shapeshifter You stubborn ass I never asked for this Torment This constant Use of my time Motivation Mind I never wanted to make you mine Or make me yours I never asked for anything but love Now loving you I know Love and torment are cut from the same cloth with patterns which weave perfectly into one

Everyone from my past feels this way Whether villain, or Samaritan, or the one who got away Gallery of peanuts how I always got something to say Rhyme slayer how I keep the demons at bay A time tailor how I alter what seems to be Unzipping realities with patchwork prophesies

As I’ve gotten older I’ve learned to pack parts of myself away Not to hide, Rather to partition the pieces People have yet to acquire the depths to understand Sometimes explaining myself comes off as biting hands which have been holding me in place Feeding me gourmet crumbs for so long I forgot my body is starving for far more Although it has been surviving Desperately grasping onto strands of hope transformed into laurels Tangling my feet up so badly I forgot how to move forward A “stepping razor” is someone who is quick to fight Maybe we just need a little extra umph to help kick the weeds off our boots and finally let ourselves bloom

Love is an emotion anyone can feel, and everyone does But to be in love is far deeper than a single fleeting emotion To be in love is a state of being which encompasses every action which magnetizes you almost involuntarily to another human being The state of being in love surpasses linear time and physical space It extends beyond the realm of romance And beams across every spectrum of existence Where I would do anything to ensure that you are always loved and nurtured, Where you would do anything to ensure I am always loved and protected

I feel like a stranger in my own bed When I don’t wake up by your side To the smile in your eyes, the whisper in the way you trace every ripple in my spine like the binding of your favorite book Caressing fine print with tender movements and tempting looks Meandering my hips and thighs, like you’ve thumbed through these passages before under quilted comforters and moonlight Haunted by every past impasse Down every dog-eared corner of residual horrors Collected in the dusty corridors of your consciousness Congested consciences How we’ve conned our senses into confusing the unavailable for more valuable Chasing after sunset thieves Insatiable greed which pocket picks the beauty out of everything Unseen efforts festered in the boils of what you once thought was love It’s tough Feeling like nothing you ever do is enough Scared your next romance Could be another chance of bad luck I’m not a gambling woman, but You got me putting my prayers into pots of gold Sparking four-leaf clovers under ...

It’s okay to be a speck of dust and magnificently grandiose at the same time.

Saying goodbye can’t even begin to describe… my wish to go back in time, the last time we actually saw each other for real when you really saw me as more than just a memory of the baby you raised In some ways, heartache seems to be the only thing propping me up by my puppet strings fighting against gravity - melding heavy boots into concrete going through the motions with the weight of these emotions expectations of a full life expectancy, some self-important legacy bearing the burden of mortality Grief is, in fact, a great expression of gratitude  …only great love could break a heart this way in the shadow of its presence perhaps grief is the horcrux of divine immortality existing in a seemingly magicless world amidst the most ordinary of moments as common as death Grief is what happens when the heart projects its love as far as it can reach to encompass the energy of their beloved absorbed into the infinite universe which surrounds us.

Every January I wake up with that feeling Of wanting to be new I squeeze into soft curves Wringing out any excess thoughts of you Clinging to me like bad breath After a morning cigarette When you used to be my fix Now all that remains between us is brokenness An ache in my head where clouds used to be Pit in the place of butterflies Hard to believe you were everything to me once upon a time Now I don’t even think you could recognize  me as more than a passerby 🌑 

I watch my son on the playground Relishing in the joy of these children experiencing existence for the first time Moved by the dimensional parallels between all stages of life A little girl falls, gets a scrape and cries A thirty-five-year-old woman wipes a tear from her eyes  Recalling reveries from when her world was young

Perhaps foreplay is simply a kiss of sun against honey skin and the fractured mahogany of your irises Foreplay is seeing me in rose-tinted lips and a bed of curls Running fingers through thoughts and daydreams and the curve of your smile