He is Blue

He is blue.

There are oceans and seas and lifetimes between us and yet the thought of his cyan eyes  burn bullets into my core

the night sky is an abyss of black and sparks- too far to hold, just close enough to feel. With a single orb of light rocking me like a pendulum, rocking me like a child.

Here. Where I am.

There is red and green and purple and gold and orange and silver and all of them. Are swirled together.

But he…he is blue.

He is whispers and fresh air and dandelions and cool stone against warm flesh. He is butterfly kisses and origami paper and quiet, perfect dreaming.

And in all the seas and skies of the world, I have never once seen

such a breathtaking shade of blue.

A Thousand Times

I will love a thousand times before I am scattered to the wind like dead leaves- once beautiful, infinitely temporary.

Drifting through the wind, fragments and wisps of my heart- forever lost in translation

I loved a thousand times, before I ever laid foolish, innocent eyes on your shattered soul.

With childlike wonder, I once bestowed a kiss upon every stranger- soft wildflowers carelessly picked and dispersed into the universe

But I will never love another soul as I loved you.

As though their voice alone awoke all the angels in heaven, just to sing me to sleep

As though the shards of glass within their eyes created rainbows and prisms of light that put the stars to shame

As though their laugh could provide and place all of the joy I would ever, could ever, dream of holding in my outstretched hands

I will love a thousand times after I have stopped loving you. But I will never again love a soul with my very bones.




She is lilting words on the backs of sentences dripping with stubbornness and intellect

She is eyes made of sea glass in a kaleidoscope of refracting light

She is piercing bells of laughter in the dark between moments of sleepy silence

She is star dust manifesting as freckles on sunscreen scented skin

She is champagne in a paper cup

She is stone faced independence with a heart knit from wool

She is sticky fingers of childhood watermelon melted in the sun

she is a hand written invitation on the bark of birch trees

she is a cup of hot cocoa on a snowy day, brimming with cinnamon foam

She is the moon thousands of miles away, coaxing the ocean to bring me home


Let me live in you

I trace my hand down your spine

Like reading braille, my fingertips lightly pressing each vertebrae

Feeling for the place, the spot, where I am.


I don’t want you to think about me.

I don’t want to live in your mind, turning over and over like waves.

Memories, images, turn to dust in the mind- they become muddled, dirty versions

of the perfect original.


I don’t want you to love me.

I don’t want to live in your heart, burning, boiling, bursting

with false perfections and idolization.

There is no place for my soul in a love potion fairy tale.


I don’t want you to desire me.

I can’t exist on your skin like a paper thin moment of ecstasy.

I am not bliss. I am fire and ice. I am teeth and tears gifted in soft tissue paper

I am not fleeting.


I want you to be moved by me.

Changed by me, altered and forever amended by me.

Let me live in your nerves, in your backbone. Let my soul ignite yours.

Let me exist in your very center, true north for the once lost boy.

So that even when you are blind to everything,

You will still be able to read me.



That’s When I Lost Faith.

When you decided that my tongue, my lips, were for your own pleasure and not to speak my thoughts.

When you pushed me too far, when I told you to stop, curled in a corner, naked and crying, and you zipped up your jeans, saying nothing.

When I leaned against you for a hug, and you slipped a hand down the back of my pants, where all my friends could see.

When I kissed you goodnight, and you pressed me into the passenger’s seat.

When you dug your finger inside of me, searching for something that didn’t exist.

When I said I wanted your heart, and you said you didn’t want to give it.

When I decided to give you what you wanted, because then, maybe you’d stay.


Fair (The Sun)

I am in a love affair with the sun.

It is a light and gentle love.

Like two teenagers who don’t quite know how to feel the consuming weight of lust, the sun and I don’t quite know how to love each other with all the light that lies between us.

Like all of the best love stories, we always reach a fervor in the summer. The sun likes to kiss my skin– leaving light peppered marks of golden stars across my body, like road maps to the heavens, like photographs of his universe.

I can’t look at my love for too long. He shines too brilliantly and while my eyes have always been strong, they are not invincible. Sometimes I wonder if he feels the same way, and that is why he must always leave me, until morning.

Our love is a deep love.

We are cut from the same cloth. My love is a star and I am made up of shards and fractions of star dust from times long ago. We need each other to survive. If we were ever parted, my soul would burst into flames.

But a love like that is never fair. It is fierce and it is passionate and it is reckless.

But it is not fair.