Smiles, Holding Hands, & Penises that are not going to fit
There’s a spark in your candle that I’ve never really understood, wondered how you could stay so bright and uphold all the darkness that we longed to see be good; you maybe haven’t shared with me how dim it’s gotten at times, but I’ve known you so well and so long that I’m almost certain I’d know if you weren’t well. Like when you lost your brother and that pain felt like the death happened again and again or when you’d forgotten how to be a mother, how to…
A Prayer of Self-Sadness
Oh my Maker:
Did You mean to design me so messy, I wonder. I wonder this so many times in so many moments, in almost all of my ever-prolonged, longing-for…something, days. It’s a weirdo week every five minutes or so, when I’m too vibed-out, overly sing-songy, feathered-hair Spiritual. She’s a bit too-crystals-colour the breeze of a soul for The Religious kindness of life. There’s a depth in sadness. It will empty me out. There — there is a stolen richness when people think their no-socks, no-collar hipster “pastor” non-denom ink means Religion is pointless. When the…
a Book Review.
People who should read this book: those that enjoy good writing but that don’t require unrealistic happy conclusions to enjoy a book or someone who feels a draw to the movie and wants a more developed story.
People who should NOT read this book: those looking for a “light” read, erotica, and/or just another love story.
Typically speaking, I always try to read the book before I see the movie-adaption. However, in this case, I had, several times actually, seen the movie based on this book first. Three reasons for that: it was just one of those…
so I could love another man.
I wish I knew how to stop loving you, that my curiosity about others lives wasn’t inducing my most real attractions, that it wasn’t more natural for me to linger on your laughs than to just let it go. Upon all the really mean things you said, I am full of forgiveness, but the whispered I love you and the way you smell right after you get dressed for work, I can’t forgive every other man I meet.
He’s handsome; he kisses like a steamed- up mirror after a perfect hot shower. When I…
of an Anxious Person
I want to write you a letter every day.
Please, a lot of it,
wanting to be sure you know
(I need to be sure)
great is your smile
even the glory of your mistakes.
I suppose some of it is
like a Mom puts on
her mask first
She doesn’t pass out
Her child can breath too
I want to know I’m lovable.
possibly wanted around? I promise it’s not self-
serving. I can explain. How
I don’t think…
you’re a tired (but still hidden) topic
I drink the water. I run the trails. I avoid processed foods until someone leaves a damn Sour Patch Kids bag laying about carelessly like they want me to go to war with small children or something! However, with the exception of a Migraine day where I just want nothing but a Coke from McDonald’s or the rare girls night where wine and cake seems like a formidable combination (spoiler alert: it doesn’t suck), I make a gigantic effort to take care of you. …
I will never
be used to
eyes that look down
to not being seen
by the one person who used to see me
dark and hollow streets to craft store signs
Real Love Stories Last Forever
I will never
understand waking up
left behind in a dream
missing things I never liked
his big knuckles
Blaming myself for being distracted
I’m on a road I drive-by every day
Barely remember going from you to me
from park to drive
I will never fill this hole right through my side where…
anymore than we tell them to be easy.
I have so much to be grateful for in my life. However, I’m understanding more and more why in the regulations from Child Protective Services (CPS), we specify that it cannot be required that a child be made “to be grateful.” A youth in the CPS system will not be made to show gratitude, to be told to be grateful for what they have; cannot be told they “need to be grateful.”
Gratitude is really hard. It’s not actually about being thankful for the obvious gifts in life (the basic needs come…
He invited her for coffee after finding something about her attractive on a dating application. In the seating area of his chosen coffee spot, they met. She thought of all the reasons he can’t be or shouldn’t be. After a whirlwind weekend, without apology, she refused to let him in. There were only words; once they’re out, she gladly went on with her life without wayward thinking of him.
“We made love before making love.”
It became a ritual that he’d slip back into her mind, the after-thought of a first experience. Making-out in the backseat of his car…