Thursday, June 15, 2017

Dear Universe

Dear Universe,

I’m ready to not feel this way anymore. This hanging on is breaking me- my fingers and my heart.
I want to be whole again, want to want to love. It all seems so pale since he’s been gone. I’ve walked miles and told stories, I’ve bled my truth through my fingertips and denied all the signs.
This love, if this is really even love- is so one sided.

I’m so tired of being the one who cares- when I need someone who cares there is nobody there.
My heart must be made of paper- it slips right through the cracks in the facade.
I have told him a thousand times, in a thousand different ways that I would do anything.
That with my last breath on my last day I will still care for him.
But to him, that’s not enough. I’m over feeling like I’m not enough.

My countenance is measured in moon cycles these days
Trying to sync with something that has more of a hold on me than he does.
I may appear stern but inside I’m stunned.

My life has been a study in waiting.
Waiting rooms, waiting for rides, waiting for the dawn, waiting on love.
I can predict time down to the second- but I can’t predict his next move.

He is troubled. His eyes are like the sea before a storm.
Calm on the outside with tidal waves in his mind.
He isolates for fear of feeling while he’s in the presence of others
He’s been alone so long he’s forgotten how to speak.

My hands connect to so many things, so many worlds, and people.
His hands are immobile unless there is something safe to touch
Like that night he wrapped them around my waist and told me he was there for me.
That he loved me.

It’s taken this long to figure out that love isn’t permanent
That circumstance can change minds
Right now, I’m so tired of being broken- of wasting more time
That I implore you
Speed along this process of companionship or ruin
I can’t hold out much longer in the in between
This part of him is killing me.

Mirror Images

I guess he reminded me of the good parts of them that I wanted so desperately to save.
In that dusty attic of memory, he pulled out small trinkets
Creating an avalanche of recollection
Of those times that were buried beneath the auto pilot day-to-day.

Words fell out of his mouth and into my heart like it was deja vu
Like maybe they weren’t gone, just hiding
In the quiet spaces of this person who I attached so much to.
Who I was so attached to already.

He made me feel like I was the only person alive in the world that mattered
That our love meant more than all other things.
When he left, he made me feel like I would never be whole again
That what we had was a blessing and I had wasted it.

In the in between
He made me think that by saving him
That somehow I was saving the parts of them that were truly worthy
In him, I felt like I wasn’t alone in the world without them.

I am an alien now
Floating through space without fuel
My copilots have deserted me through the escape hatch
Yet here I sit, waiting to be rescued by figments of my imagination

The similarities are boundless.

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

behind the curtain

Several times throughout the day
I look to my left, wide-eyed.
As if to say "are you fucking kidding me?"
to you- when things get too ridiculous.
You might have a good perspective on whatever is happening
Might appreciate the irony
The gallows humor of it all.
I've done this my whole life
Since before I met you
But I never had a face to the spirit
Never named that ghost
When you came into my life
It was like the wizard of oz
All fantasies and technicolor.
Your face was all I could see
From that moment on
I didn't feel as alone.
Just like the wizard of oz
It was all a falsehood.
Now when I see your face
It makes me feel like a fool
As if I've been duped by the universe
I talk to the ghosts now
But they do not respond
That face is fading now
My memories becoming jokes.
I suppose
I have always been alone.

Thursday, June 1, 2017


I was always told that when I really fell in love
that all the pieces would fall into place
and despite everything else, we'd be we
I guess sometimes you fall further than the other
and they recover
while you nurse an injury
that may never heal

How many more of these stories
will we tell
lying to ourselves
lying to those kids who grow up
believing in this fairy tale
We're merely perpetuating disappointment

We should be saying that when you really find yourself
When you are a whole person
The pieces will fall into place
And falling in love might be simple
and if you're hurt, you're strong enough
to lick your wounds
and shake it off

Heart Matters

I still look for your car sometimes

I know it's stupid, I know you're so far

I wake up in the night and reach for you

and sometimes in that moment between awake and asleep

where you're here in my dreams

I can smell you.

Feel the bed shift beneath the weight of you

I fight that moment with all of me,

willing myself to stay asleep

Because then maybe I wasn't only dreaming.

Sometimes I dream of a journey. A 2000 mile hike.

I wake up with sore feet

Awakening just as the door opens- a cruel joke.

We both have our problems, hurdles to overcome.

I know that I act crazy and I make things too hard sometimes

But I also know I'm right in feeling how I feel

You may still feel guilt, but the time for that is long gone.

I know there is something here. I feel it and I see it.

Try as I might, I can't get past it- instead, I'll just own it.

My love, for you is unrelenting, it is mine to feel and to give.

That is all I can do.

As long as I live.


When I was four years old, the phone rang.
Nonchalantly, being a silly child, I answered it.
The person on the other end asked to speak to my father.
It was his cousin, calling to say that their grandmother had died.
I was never nonchalant about a phone call after that.

When I was thirteen, I dated a boy.
He was popular and cute and well liked at school.
Alone, he was angry and controlling.
He lost his temper and wound up with his hands wrapped around my throat
He left my tiny body lifeless on the ground
It was then that I learned how to walk on eggshells.

When I was fourteen, the bank foreclosed on the house.
The place with all of the perfect nooks and crannies,
As an only child, it was a small corner of the world that fwas just for me.
Walls and rooms, doors and dormers. It was more than brick and wood.
It was a true home, a sanctuary, my point A.
I have searched for a home ever since.

When I was eighteen, the towers fell
We watched from atop the school, across the harbor.
Too many parents never made it home that day.
The shock, rage, heartache and fear gave way to cynicism,
It was then that I lost my innocence.

When I was twenty, I woke up to coffee brewing.
Got dressed, and made my way into the living room
My father had been taking a nap when his heart stopped beating
He went gently into that good night, while my mother and I were lost.
He was our provider, and that burden then fell on me.
It was then that I learned what it really means to grow up.

The next year, at twenty-one, My mother wasted away
The cancer had spread throughout her body so quickly.
I signed the do not resuscitate order, held her hand and told her I loved her
She really couldn't live without him, I suppose.
I have felt alone in the world ever since.

I was married at twenty-three to a man who loved me enough
To feel obligated not to leave.
We went through the motions and when that failed, we realized our mistakes,
Five years married and we went our separate ways.
All those picket fence dreams went down the drain.
It was then that I came to terms with the fact that in some way, I will always be alone.
The last of my kind.

Now, I feel as an old maid, fragile and lonely.
I know heartbreak and love, betrayal and creation.
My hands that were once so full of possibility and purpose- now shake.
Most days my eyes cannot find the beauty in the ordinary
I look to the broken, to the possibility, and there between the cracks
I can hope- that everything I have learned, has not been in vain

Thursday, May 4, 2017


We've all got our own orbits, he said
Our own gravitational pull.
It brings some together and pushes some away
In the end, it can all be calculated.
Like a dance, close as breathing
And then worlds away
Spinning on an impossible axis
Far from each other.

And yet the dance continues 
Time passes and tides shift
We find ourselves in the same place.
Two objects in perpetual motion 
Continuing this chase
Until the inevitable heat death
Fragments our existence 
And it all starts again.

Sunday, April 16, 2017


I carry a package of googly eyes wherever I go
Embellish my way like Hansel and Gretel
"She was here"
In some ways it's nice to know there is someone keeping an eye on you
That isn't the government snooping
That isn't a targeted ad on social media
The eyes remind you that actions have consequences
Even if you haven't been caught, the eyes still have it.

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Mama muse

I could never be you- and thus, I revere you.
Mona Lisa smile, the unknowable.
For me, not to be
But you, you are so much more than just one word
More than just the names that you've heard
You have conceived something
That will go on to create
a ripple effect
That beating heart, impossible dream
Love on top of love, brick by brick, to the unseen
Doing more and being more than I could comprehend
Keeping your head, when things are better left unsaid
Your hands that have shaped mountains
Held back rivers
Extinguished fires
Wind on your fingertips outside the car window
What have you seen out there?
What pains have you felt?
How can I help?
I may not have empathy, but I have love.
I know that going it alone is hopeless.
I have a hand, for when yours get too tired.
I will lift you up
I will hold you like we hadn't seen each other in a century
You can't know the ways that I admire your resolve
In a world out to get you
You stand tall and preach love like a gospel
Without ever breaking a sweat
Never forget that you are exactly why people write home
You are someone's home
You are loved
You are so much more than enough.


The problem with heartbreak
is that after it's over, there is no such thing as technical support
There is no one to call
There is no disaster clean up crew
You're left with pieces of you, shattered-
Scattered across the lower 48 like seed
ground into shards impossible to repair
through traditional methods

The way to mend heartbreak is
nine thousand one hundred and thirty-six  parts alcohol
Three dozen poems strewn across several journals that you will never fill
You can try to fill the void with objects
A new haircut
A new home
A new name
But it will never be the same

The way to heal heartbreak
Is through drowning yourself in work
in other people's words
with other people's hands
The truth of heartbreak is that there is no going back.
It causes permanent irreparable damage
It shows up on every scan, yet there never seems to be a plan
You will never have that optimism to keep you sane
It simply hurts too much hiding behind this pain.

I scrawl down my feelings like they were my last rites
Like my hands can somehow articulate this complicated situation
To reveal some deep down clarity
As if writing is exorcism
and the ink that is my blood takes the place of holy water in this ritual

The problem with heartbreak
is that everything you can think of to mend it is water soluble
Blood, tears, sweat- on and on
Until you wake up in the middle of the night
Your broken heart chugging along.
It used to race, but it's too weak now.

Hands grasp at ghosts while you struggle
Looking at the empty pillow
and wondering if there would ever be a way to jump
into a universe where you were still here
next to me.