Poetry

to

Once in a while though, like the other night, its almost like we are five years younger again, in our zone. The night is chilly, almost too cold. I hate the cold, but I don’t mind. We talk and talk and talk. Try to fit in months of lost time into the couple stolen moments of the night. I hate that we lost time, but I don’t mind. The sparks kindle, setting ablaze a burnt out fire. I hate that fire, but I don’t mind. And then you leave and I am left alone, leaning against my car in that gas station parking lot. Too afraid to get in my car and drive away. Too afraid to end our night. I feel the absence again, I feel the pain. I realize how I will never be able to forget you and I hate myself for it. I hate myself, but I don’t mind. Because for you, a thousand times over.

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Poetry

all

i liked talking to you
because you made me feel like a creator
conversations with you
felt like alchemy
it always felt like together
we could invent a recipe for life
some revolutionary idea, a new philosophy
that would somehow change our lives
answer all the questions we ever had

your thoughts filled the gaps in mine
your ideas matched together with mine
in perfect harmony like puzzle pieces

you were your own universe
an evolved being who understood yourself
and the world and people around you enough
to recognize you understood nothing

you are rare. i like rare.

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Poetry

the

I have read the comics
I have seen the show
all 18 episodes
three times in fact

i liked the way he scratched the back of his head
the way he loved a woman that wasn’t his
the way no one understood him

and as i lay in bed munching on chips and candy
watching him struggle, kill, get killed
my heart loved him more and more

so much so I would hit replay and watch
the first 18 episodes of The Walking Dead
all over again

i even volunteered at comic-con to see this man,
meet him, swoon a little perhaps, profess my love?
hopelessly hoping for fiction to turn into reality

i know you’re thinking i am insane
but surely, you can tell i am in love, right?

I am in love with
Shane Walsh
and he is not real.

i’m in love with fiction

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Poetry

loves

I catch your smile
on a long drive home one summer night in Houston
six years ago

it was a smile i had seen several times before
yet somehow it felt different this time
it catches me off guard
my world pauses for a moment like some cheesy rom-com
you don’t catch me staring, though i wish you had
to see me dumbfounded
suddenly the sound of your words miss my ears
the music on the stereo drowns into silence
I hear nothing but my heart beat
i catch myself falling
falling for you
and this is a first

i catch the significance of this moment
me in the passenger seat
you, in black, smiling that perfect smile
i memorize this moment
the beauty spot on your right cheek,
your right hand on the wheel, left resting in your lap

i memorize this moment
because i know i will remember it forever

this is the exact moment i fell in love with the man
i’d share the rest of my life with.

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Poetry

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close yet distant
do i even know you?

I am afraid
afraid i don’t know myself
am i too easy? too forgiving?
am i getting what i deserve?
what do i deserve?

you did me wrong
but have i always done you right?
am i asking for too much?
should i be asking for more?
what am i doing?
to you? to myself?

i am trying to change baby
but you are changing with me
you are coping with me
i am changing for the better
you made me better
but you are changing for the worst
i made you worse

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Poetry

my

​​​​​nights in Florida at the beach
with the cool sand burying my feet
the waves in the full moon all lit

I am dressed up for you, with my hair down
in the white and black dress you got me
while you have a sweater casually thrown on
and you still look better
you always do.
you look better,
you talk better,
you act better,
you are better.

I get lost in the sound of waves
and in the cold air on my face
thinking of just how perfect you are
and all kinds of lucky you make me feel

with the whole beach to ourselves
I wonder if i am in heaven
as i watch the waves rise up and bow down
shimmering in the moonlight

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Poetry

life

How do i describe this feeling?
she is truly the most beautiful person i know

her presence alone gives me this feeling…
a warm, fuzzy, safe feeling
a cuddly, cozy, grateful feeling
like having a cup of hot chocolate
on a cold, snowy Christmas morning

the comfort i feel
when she is around
like a hug, tight and assuring
welcoming and familiar

i hope to make her feel the same some day
to be the reason she feels as at peace
as the way she makes me feel

it would be my life’s greatest accomplishment
to be my mother’s cup of hot chocolate

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