I keep looking for my answers  in someone else, I know no one can  solve me  the human heart is not secretly disguised as a Rubik’s cube (if only) so why do I keep on throwing myself out there only to reel myself back in as if loneliness navigating purpose  were something worth calculating  but…

Planting Trees

If I accept,  will you build me into your cobblestone patio  let me dig my fingers into the earth  to fill every crack with the green that seeps out from underneath?  Will you bury me and all our secrets in your garden  so no one can distinguish between  the seeds that plant peas  and the…


They cut her down today— first, they started  with her tallest branches just a few cuts  to sprinkle the earth  with hundreds of years worth  of her Next, they began sawing at  her midsection  bulbous and covered in lichen  her body etched with the histories of teenage love Finally, they snipped her — sliced her…

Friday Nights

Friday nights  are characterized  by the same kind of loneliness  that encumbered me when you fell asleep on the couch every night.


She only spoke in seismographs  abrupt, exploding with words that parted the tectonic plates of my soul. 

Letting Go

I let go of you faster than a sneeze, you slipped between my fingers  and although I practiced  holding you memorized all your ridges, I quickly realized I was never meant to hold you. 


To love oneself, the conglomeration  of atoms, molecules  aspirations, failures  down to the way your body jiggles  when you walk— that is the greatest gift you can ever give yourself. 


It is delicate one off word and that could be it but if that’s the case then so be it— Life is too short  to walk on eggshells  for other people, so instead, I’ll just make some scrambled eggs. You’re more than welcome to join me.


There are galaxies inside you, sometimes they pirouette  make you point your toes in some direction  you’ve never known but what you do know is that there are so many kinds of love to fill you up.


I looked at photos of you like paintings in a museum you were just  a plain old mountainside a vignette of a harbor  full of faded colors yet your description boasted of  grandeur, of some artist  I probably hadn’t heard of— You were always going to be  untouchable, I should have known  from the moment…