2.33. He Kissed Me

And I felt like putty

Like the sky at 7:53am on a Tuesday while Bob Marley played in someones car…”No woman no cry.”

Like an empty bottle of creamy baby oil left atop an unused counter…waiting

Like a cool bottle of wine, uncorked but owned

Like a valley unpaved by mankind.

He kissed me 

And I felt like an orgasmic tigress

An unleashed heathen

A closeted slut

A pornographic master

A willing submissive

An intrigued Dom

Waiting Prey

The hungry predator.

He kissed me 

And floodgates opened







Lips to lips


Lips to throat


Palms to palms pressed, fiercely, against cold brick

Lips to chest




He kissed me

With every intent of staying

And fleeing

Gasping for more

My oxygen in his lungs

My everything in his hands

My world in his words



He kissed me

And I was something else

Someone else

A vixen

A kitten

A little bit of both

A culmination of what shouldn’t be and what had to be

Lips to stomach

Staring at the back of eyelids

Familiarizing scents and tastes

Tongues sway



Lips to inner thigh

He kissed me 

And I watched him beg

To feel pretty lips

Below the hips

For one thrust

One drink





2.29. The Stars Shine

This post gives me great joy to write. But it also has a deep rooted past. And so, we travel back to the first year I moved to Kansas.

Working for an in-home mental health care facility, I spent hours upon hours with a new set of people while our clients slept soundlessly in their beds. Between bed rotations, medicine distribution, and breathing checks…the staff would hang out in the living room and chit chat or play hours of card games. 

J and I sat in the living room for our first overnight shift together. We had eight hours to burn before our clients had to be woken for their daily activities…all we had was time to burn. He told me he’d had one girlfriend but that was it. And without skipping a beat, he divulged everything about his deepest secrets. He was gay. But his family had raised him Baptist and his father was a preacher; a man respected in the community for his devotion to God. J had tried being with a girl to “fix” himself. But it hadn’t worked. 

“So, have you come out to your family?”

J looked puzzled. “Why would I do that?”

He explained that he knew his feelings were wrong. There was no reason in coming out because he would never live that sinful life. He would never betray his God or his family. He would not burn in hell for the lust of the body. 

“So, you’re just going to be alone forever?”

He laughed at my “ignorance,” and explained that he wasn’t alone because he had Gods love. 

“But wouldn’t your God want you to be happy?”

He said he was but his eyes said otherwise. 

Fast forward more than a decade.

An attractive, Jesus loving hipster enters my world. I immediately lean on him for all of my Godly questions. But the world that we live in can’t understand why someone like him and someone like me would ever really talk. So the rumors started. I was trying to tempt him. I wanted to bring him over to the dark side. We were probably having secret kissing sessions when no one was looking.

And it pissed me off. Because no one knew the conversations we’d had. No one knew that we stood in a parking lot at 4am talking about his love for God. No one knew that he’d revealed, he too, had felt things for the same sex but couldn’t act upon them because of his love for his Lord. No one knew that I cried for this boy and told him the story of J. That my heart broke to see someone so amazing trapped by their own love…only to be left deprived of love.

A distance built between us and I will admit that I grew to dislike him immensely. I felt betrayed. How could he open his world to me in such a way and yet distance himself from me as if I were a fucking leper? I hadn’t judged him or told him what he felt was wrong. I had embraced him and he’d turned the other cheek.

I had a moment when I thought he wanted me to shun him for his revelations. When he wanted me to be like everyone else. That would have been easier. But I hadn’t and instead…I’d been thrown away like garbage. What a friendship, I thought.

The boy moved away. And I shouldn’t care.

But I am beyond happy for this boy. I have learned that in his move…the star found his puzzle piece, has grown even closer to his God in his new love, and has learned to be honest with himself and the world he aspired to change. I watch from a distance and I am elated to see pictures and posts of pure, genuine love. My tears were not in vain. Everything turned out the way it should have and someone who is truly a gift to this world now knows it’s possible. To love with your whole heart AND to be loved wholeheartedly.

When he became a star

2.18. For The New Year

Dear 2013,

Your predecessor sucked. I have high hopes for you and the possibilities you may bring.

  1. Finalize this divorce. 
  2. Move into a larger space so Hunter has his own room.
  4. Visit NYC with Hunter
  5. Get a better paying job.
  6. Take (at least) one college course.
  7. Start working out on the reg.
  8. Take a cooking/dancing/something class with my bestie
  9. Start a savings account solely for Hunter
  11. Kiss the muse aka submit my writing for critique/publication
  12. Give Hunter everything he deserves.
  13. Be happy.

Sincerely yours,



Some are mine and some are borrowed. All are true.

It is of wasted body and breath to want to fix the world. It is with great respect I look to those who walk off the beaten path because it is never easy.

I am here not to validate or condemn a soul. The life I’ve chosen for my time here is mine alone and the only one that is my business. You take care of yours and I’ll take care of mine.

It is the human condition to love and want to be loved, it is the human curse to hurt others and to be hurt. We judge one another relentlessly yet wish not to be judged, a never ending cycle that shall bring us to our end.

Please don’t ask me about someone elses feelings, opinions, judgements, actions, etc etc as I am only one person and therefore I can only answer fully and without bias, for myself.

On that note, don’t ask me why I do what I do. If I thought it important enough to discuss, I would have by now. I do EVERYTHING for a reason, I just don’t feel the need to consult with ANYONE.
That is all.

“We must see all scars as beauty…take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.” – Excerpt from Little Bee by Chris Cleave.

If my mind doesn’t intimidate you, my mouth probably will, not for the faint of heart.

“Like uncharted territory, I must seem greatly intriguing…you’re not allowed, you’re uninvited.”

“I only care about the words that flutter from your mind. They are the only thing you truly own. The only thing I will remember you by. I will not fall in love with your bones and skin. I will not fall in love with the places you’ve been. I will not fall in love with anything but the words that flutter from your extraordinary mind.” – Andre Jordan

You must never shout at the concrete
You must always shout at the stars
Concrete cant hear you.

“Words need not endorse the obvious.”

I love life and the strange people in it. No two alike, eccentric and chaotic, mellow and mysterious, everyone is a story waiting to be read and Im the avid reader. I am continuously enthralled by the wonders these people show me, teach me, allow me to see, blessed to learn more about our universe everyday from the living stars amongst us. Don’t be afraid to know these people, to care about these people, to love these people. It is the divine gift we have been given which makes us human. Enjoy.

“To enter the mystery of timelessness is to enter the sanctuary of the here, where we are given a chance at every moment to begin our lives again. Not one of us is perfect, and sorrows press upon us all. But, the universe is a merciful one, in which unlimited opportunities for new beginnings are built into the very essence of things.”

Let us take our head out of the clouds and into the light. Dwelling on fears of loneliness only creates loneliness, rage begets rage, and chasing a dream only makes it run faster away.
“I know my destination, I’m just not there…”

I always say something wrong
I always speak right when the thought hits me
I always offend at least one person in the room
I always talk too loud, too long, too fast
I always make people >.< o.O or =O
I always second guess the last 5 things I just did
I always do them anyway
I always share how I’m feeling, even if its ugly
I always fuck up
I always say I’m sorry
I always mean it
I always fall
I always get back up
I always want to win
I always lose
I always dream the impossible dreams
I always come back to reality
I always live in the past
I always want to be in the future
I always forget the present is the gift
I always care…even when I don’t.

It’s not what you say but what you mean
It’s not what you give but what you hold back
It’s not who you were but who you are
It’s not who you are but who you’ll be
It’s not what you do but why you do it
It’s not why you care but when you show it
It’s not what you know but what you don’t.

That’s exactly how much of me you know. Judge that 1% Label that 1% Hate that 1% because not even blood knows the 99. It’s all in my head, all in my heart, all in my soul and you aren’t welcome there. These are the places you can never molest, never dictate, never contaminate. This belongs to me. *Locks the door and throws away the key*

You are full of fatuity…and so I forsake you.

“The writings easy, it’s the living that is sometimes difficult.” – Charles Bukowski

Dont play dead before you have to.” – Wally Lamb – The Hour I First Believed –

Sometimes, we sacrifice who we are for who we think we should be, who others will accept us as. In seeing friends/family/strangers battle this, in seeing myself battle this, I know nothing is greater then having self. Flawed; work on it…but don’t lose you. I wont. This is my face in my mirror, and I’m alright with seeing me.

“We’re always looking in the wrong direction. We ponder the stars while burning the earth, the bullet we’re running from is almost never the one that hits us.”

1.196 – For Your Cuntsumption

I want sex
Without the skin
Ten thousand brush strokes
when fingertips
become pens
gracing the pages of your…

Ten thousand
musical notes
flowing from lips
in baratone moans
strumming at the strings of my…

Ten thousand ways to say
those words of longing
in deafoning silence
with eyes clenched shut
and thighs pried open
I am braille
you are blind
Read me…

Ten thousand
layers of icing
decadent and sweet
because I love the taste of your…

Ten thousand ways to
deeper still
into untouched waves
crashing on the shore
that is my…

Ten thousand hues
to explore
through bites and scratches
smacks of the perfect measure
the prettiest ruptures of skin
I am your canvas
you hold the brush
paint me…

I want the sex
without the skin
above me
below me
within me
as I touch…
those words come

endless convulsions
spastic explosions
admiring you from every angle
as I watch…
those words come

Sweat and saliva
covering us like silk sheets
As I inhale…
those words come

Everything you want
sent to me on petals
of grunts and moans
through clenched teeth
travelling on orgasmic whimpers
As I listen…
those words come

Licking my lips
through each smirk
insatiable thirst intensifies
because of your…
As I taste…
the words come

Ten thousand triggers
to the senses
As tongues embrace and bodies

Ten thousand
words against your skin
chapter upon chapter
of gasps and heaves
panting through perpetual
bliss in every stroke…
of a tongue

Ten thousand
droplets…of rain
immerse me
and I am humbled
feeling ecstasy cum
through and through and through

Ten thousand
flavors for your
layers of buttery velvet streaming
like music

Ten thousand
screaming banshees
consumed by the need
to return the savagery

Ten thousand
oceanic waves
surging over the course of my…

As I slip into
and we soar intertwined

Ten thousand
ways to call your name silently
to watch you shake uncontrollably
as brick turns to
clay in your hands

Ten thousand
burning embers
as I am your…
and you are my…
and the words come…

I want sex
without the skin

1.195 – When She Has You

~Your hand tightens in her hair, almost jerking her head to the side, but she grasps at your arm before she will give you such control. Because it isnt your turn…not tonight.

~Sweet nothings shared like music as she becomes like putty in your hands, almost losing focus of where she wanted to take you, her delicate frail form becoming apparent now. How could she resist? Instead, she thrusts her body tight against you, her breasts becoming one with your chest, her tongue lathering yours in her much needed attempt to stay in control. She could ask herself, where are we, outside or in, near or far but it mattered not for our bodies could be anywhere so long as we are one…

“We are are everywhere yet nowhere all at once.”

~A giggle strokes her, trickling over every aroused sense, like waterfalls against her skinless, limitless force, like prayer for a soul. She is soothed. And she wonders of you so occupying her mouth, unable momentarily to explain, to continue but she knows that she doesnt even really have to. As no one would get it but you. How she wants it, likes it so, needs it all the more. Because she wants it all and then some. Because the body can only fuck for so long. And she is, in this paused climactic moment, one of her own doing, yet knowing you have driven her to this said place of nonexistant yet perpetual bliss, she is your damsel, whisked away in your arms from strikes of tyranny.

“Open your eyes Love, see it all with me. Swallow me in the structure of your build, as I am safe right here with you, trust in your intentions. Because you didnt know Papi…yet you still wanted to. Could you possibly comprehend what you mean to me, what you do to the most forbidden parts of me? I would say you have no idea. And I want to ravish you right in this moment, to take what is mine, all mine, to show you just how you make volcanos erupt and falcons soar and suns rise..but that would ruin the structure we’ve made here tonight. Savour it love, anticipate, wait for it.”

~She removes any garments so standing in her way, just the right motion, in just the right direction and bliss would be present, orgasmic transactions, to give, to take, to take some more and then give ten fold. She reads your body again and again, the best kept secret, the scribe that should have been read, she raises herself onto her knees, her bosom heaving just inches from your face, she looks down into your eyes, the flicker making her want to drop her hips down against you all the more, to fulfill and be filled in one greedy stroke. But patience is a virtue and her certainty of how far and wide you will go cannot be overshadowed by her lust.

1.177 – Loving The Dead

“I’ll leave my heart here with you and you take care of it for me.”

Yeah, I’m alone but I’m never alone. And I don’t admire those girls walking with those guys…hand in hand and lost in their simple type of love. That earthly love that fails to conquer forever, that shatters never, that travels wherever.

Yeah, I’m alone but I’m never alone. And I don’t admire those girls listening to those boys while they spew operatic notes off silver tongues… rewind… repeat…fast-forward…repeat. That earthly sound that fails to emulate the unblemished accent of a thunderous voice wrapped in honey-suckle and lavender.

Yeah, I’m alone but I’m never alone. And I don’t admire those girls phased by the layers of courtship used to lather them up…that real flow lost generations ago…something now justified and yet so cheap. That earthly engagement that is built on the grinding of bodies and the bashing of souls…forgotten and bruised in the basement of some forgettable place on a street never to be known again. Nothing like the magic, the thrill, the enticing threshold of intensity fortified by wild minds, chaotic hearts, spurned addictions and delicious afflictions.

Because this world wasn’t ready for us. Because this world couldn’t handle our kind of love. A love that has no name in the English language. In any language. Except Sign Language. Because I was Braille. And you read me to the deepest depths of my actuality. Delving into the den of my secrets. Submerged in my crux. The part of me no one will ever know.

Yeah, I’m alone but I’m never alone. And I don’t admire those thieves of the heart. The ones who swoon and give away so easily. Those who take and toss aside the bountiful bunches of hope without so much as a second thought. Those who forget that devotion is forever. The flame of two hearts, two souls as they collide cannot and will not be snuffed. Not by time, not by space, not by the demise of the rare angels that walk amongst us.

This heart I have is not meant to be given. Because this heart I have is not mine. This is the gift you left me – the one I will guard with my very being. And mine…mine is in your hands…somewhere on the cusp of heaven…hell…and forever. Wait for me, love. Wait for me and the time when our hearts unite. Yours in mine and mine…yours.

Yesterday, today, tomorrow. 

1.145 – Did You See Her 2.0

This is not about being caught between a rock and a hard place. This is about those that freely violated the soft space of my mind. A cerebral vortex of shame and stains left behind where my imagination was supposed to develop. Instead it’s homicidal sperm, that’s spermicidal fluid, sent to ruin the chambers of this tomb because I’m the walking dead. A corpse painted semi-pretty so you cant see all the stains they left upon me.

This one says I’ll always feel broken and this one is a self-deprecating spot that has soaked into the very core of my being. This one shouts how much it still hurts and these record the number of times my demise was a real consideration. Up for deliberation is my worth, my beauty and the lack thereof. Wondering how many can see the target and how many will attempt to score. Because I was never a women to caress but a child to molest and a sleeping beauty who woke up to a pillow on her face. Disgraced in explaining that I’m not quite sure if it was rape because he was my boyfriend but I didn’t want to.

Did you hear her tears as she wept

Did you see her?

Did you feel the pain in her heart

Did you know her?

This is general and this is specific. This is for every man and for no man at all. This is the rage of a gender and the plea of a woman. This is the voice of a tear and the echo of a child’s feet. This is from me to you, from us to them. This is for mothers with sons and fathers with daughters. This is for every person who wants to feel beautiful and for every person who took away that chance.

Did you hear her tears as she wept

Did you see her?

Did you feel the pain in her heart

Did you know her?

This is for the Queens of the world. In every shade and every shape. For the scarred and the scared. For the bold and the wise. For the revolutionary and the traditionalist. For the swell of your breasts as you feed our kin and hide in closed quarters in shame. For the stories of your tongue, the stories of your hips, your eyes, your hands. This is for your battles lost and those you’ve yet to win. But you will. This is for the eccentric thoughts in your mind, your hopes and dreams.

Did you hear her tears as she wept

Did you see her?

Did you feel the pain in her heart

Did you know her?

This is for our sons, our future Kings. Know that your manhood is not measured by your dick and what you do with it but the heart you so genuinely share. Love her and know her and speak her name with honey on your lips. Tell her what this world could be and shield her from what it really is. Give her a piece of you and nurture every exhale she shares. Use your hands to wipe away the tears versus inflicting them. Kiss away the bruises versus gifting them. Call her name – call her name sweetly so she will come to you with eager anticipation. Remind her, every day until the end of days, that she is your equal. Your matching puzzle piece. Your mirrored image of hope.

Do you believe in God sir? Well, if you do…”God took a rib from Adam to create Eve…so she would walk beside him. He did not take a bone from his heel for her to be beneath him.” Ask your God to clarify.

This is for our daughters, the soldiers of capturing the voice. Where we have failed, you will triumph and persevere. You will flee from cages of insecurity, you will dance freely and know your body and express your individuality with certainty and conviction. You will not be his slut or his whore or his conquest. You will not be his angel captured on a harpoon, dangling off cliffs edge while he gloats of his barbaric instincts. You will soar. You will taste the stars and make love on clouds and touch sands of far off places and sway in the eclipse of time into sunsets of days yet created.

Did you hear her tears as she wept

Did you see her?

Did you feel the pain in her heart

Did you know her?

Does it count if it’s marital, family, a female? I’m a woman so you take my pain as fact but if I were a man screaming of my violations, you’d be thinking “well, how the fuck is that” but sadly it is, not something to be dismissed because it’s happening right now. And some wife somewhere is saying “please don’t” and some husband is saying “what’s mine is mine”

This is for that man…you know who you are. Not under one name or one face but one type underneath it all. You have tainted rich soil, conquered and pillaged sacred plains, delved into the deepest corners of unexplored caverns and declared ownership. As if her pussy was property. You have created superiority in your name and claimed sanction in corners of the world, yet you are everywhere. You will tower over the beauties of this land and profess false prophecies of a God like stature because of your dick.

Did you hear her tears as she wept

Did you see her?

Did you feel the pain in her heart

Did you know her?

You will hide behind money, power and muscle mass. You will press her body down and take what is not yours. You will crush her bosom and pierce her lips with your own as you inject anguish into her every crevice. You will rape her mind far longer than her body. You will ravish her in dreams and eat away at her until she is skin and bones and bones and skin and skin and skin and scarred and ruined and pained and lost. You will shadow her eyes and teach her that this is it; she will die today. No man will love her, hold her, cradle her, and forgive away every flaw upon her name. You will stomp out her light, snuff the candle and make a film about it.

This is about the bruises left unseen, scouring my skin but I’m still unclean.  On the inside. Was I too weak, too soft, too vulnerable and how much of this was my fault. But how does a child ask for it? She doesn’t and yet we question a girls slut rating to deem if there was probably cause probably cuz we are too busy telling our girls to clean up their shit instead of teaching our sons not to be rapists. And with each new agenda, we pretend our offenders are just men and mistake perversion for homosexuality. Because this isn’t about sex or gender or orientation. This is about a sick stimulation, a war waged on an unsuspecting country.

Did you hear her tears as she wept

Did you see her?

Did you feel the pain in her heart

Did you know her?

She is my future, my past. She is me and no one I know. He is every man I have ever met and every man I will avoid. He is what I will teach my son not to be. And in some other realm, I see her and she is free. She is without shackles and without daggers. She owns her essence and is euphoric in splendor of possibility. And there will be one, one to defy all others. One to touch her cheek and melt away those stains. He will whisper and elevate. She will taste the salt of tears seasoned with wonder.

Did you hear her tears as she wept

Did you see her?

Did you feel the pain in her heart

Did you know her?

Be a light to the woman you know. Be that man. The one I know exists in dreams. For her, I will write him into life. He will touch one. Just one. She will be his country and he will be her soldier. And this moment, this one lost moment will not be in vain. My prince will be a King someday. And she will know beauty again. Whoever she is…she will know and never have to.

1.137 – Invisible

When I was seventeen, my mother figured out that I was living with an eating disorder. I don’t say suffering, I don’t say struggling, I don’t say battling. I was living with it. I ate. I threw up. I hovered over the fridge at 3am and engulfed everything in sight only to vomit it in a toilet five minutes later. I’d gotten so good at it, I evolved from using my fingers to just thinking about it.

“Vomit, damn it.”


It was that simple. But I was discreet. Yeah, I’ve always been skinny but at that time, I was convinced I’d only stay that way if I kept my body as empty as my heart felt.

But she figured it out. She sat me down in her poor attempt at being a mother and asked “why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”

I never threw up with my mother in mind. I never thought, “this chicken thigh is for you, ma!” I threw up because it felt good. I threw up because I could control something. I threw up because I’d failed at trying to be a cutter so I needed something that was mine. I threw up because I didn’t feel so dirty. I threw up because I was convinced someone would love me if I was tiny. I threw up because  I didn’t have any other great attributes. I threw up because it felt good to flush away garbage and not have to carry it for years on end. I told myself I didn’t do it for her. I didn’t do it because I hated life, the world, myself.

“I just want you to see me,” I replied.



I just wanted her to see me. To acknowledge me. To say I was wanted. To say I was loved. To admit she messed up but she did care. To show one ounce of loving me more than she loved herself. To show some sense of pride in having had me. I wanted her to see me…as something good. She never did.

The story of my mother is a book all on it’s own. One I could not write because it’s one I couldn’t ever reread…relive. Not just for me. For my sisters. For my nieces. For my nephews. For my son. I cannot relive it all. Because poison kills. I made it threw once…just barely. I wouldn’t take my chances with a second go-around.

I haven’t forced myself to throw up in years. I think about it. Sometimes, I know this sounds stupid as all hell, I miss it. But I haven’t. Because I don’t care anymore.

Quite frankly, sometimes, I’d be happier if no one saw me at all.

1.136 – He Lives On Paper

I’ll write him into life – I’ve said so before

Since nothing I see is picturesque.

He’ll have the swagger of ten thousand kings

Compacted into a bravado of tenderness.

He will be my juxtaposition, somewhere left of a Viking and write like a poet.

Integrity matched only by compassion

His voice will be like thunder, his words…like rain.

I’ll be his Nefertiti

Fed and drowned in the flow of his fruits

And he’ll be everywhere, in the eyes of everyman.

His presence will command attention

Strong hands but soft to the touch

His body will spit poetry with every stride he takes

And his feet will create symphonies over concrete.

He’ll be my Shakespeare – inspiring me to make up words

Cuz what I want to say about him doesn’t even have a definition yet.

His skin will be tanned, pale, and dark semi-sweet chocolate, yellow, olive, and red like fire.

Piercing eyes will scale the rainbow and make Crayola get to work on new names and new shades.

He’ll be all about art and beauty and he’ll climb a mountain to get just the right shadow effect over my lips.

He’ll wrap the towel around his waist and let the rest of his body air dry – because he’s that giving.

He’ll find reasons to smile even when the downpour turns to hail.

And all the while, he’ll walk on the outside.

My 21st century knight. He’ll swivel me like a red and chill me like a white, drink me like I’m some rare type and admire how I age.

And with each passing moment, he’ll tattoo my heart with love and love and love and love…

He’ll lick the rain from my fingertips and splash in puddles because clean is never good enough

And he’ll step into a shower with his clothes on, giving me a reason to peel them away.

He’ll be kind to those struggling and drop a ten into a poor mans cup when he could have opted for change.

He’ll know the flavor of soda that reminds me of my father and the one good memory I have of my mother.

He’ll know the name of the one who didn’t make it and who Joshua was.

He’ll listen when it matters and even when it doesn’t.

My heating blanket in a night of cold sweats…my personal lullaby.

He’ll get why unicorns make me cry and why clowns are not just some childhood phobia.

Dressed to impress but not some label whore

And he’ll give me his earring like in The Breakfast Club except there won’t be any breast to lip liner action.

He’ll jam out when the old school shit comes on, never letting fear hold him back from a laugh.

We’ll dance when our song plays and I’ll giggle when he says, “you tell anyone about this and I’ll…”

The life of the party without drowning in a pool of people

He’ll shine even when it’s dark in a room.

The scars on his body will tell stories words cannot dictate.

He’ll know how many beauty marks I have by heart and be able to draw my birth mark from memory

Because he pays attention to more than tits and ass.

He’ll teach me something and feed a hunger I never knew existed.

He’ll wow me over a seven course meal he attempted and failed at

Better yet, he’ll order out and try to pass it off like he’s a master chef.

He’ll search for a signed copy of my favorite book And know the significance of the fire escape and those cookies…My king, my love, I have yet to write you into life, to inject the first signs of air into breathless lungs.

But I will…And he will leave me wanting more

Eager to know his favorites, his dislikes, his aspirations

And how many times he changed his career as a six year old, coloring outside of the lines.

I’ll set my alarm because I want to be awake at 2:37am on a Thursday morning just so I know that face he makes when he’s dreaming. Wanting the lights on always, so I can bask in it.

Wanting the lights off always, so I can see him solely with my fingertips. I’ll try to memorize the thesaurus so I know thirteen different ways to say “happy””

And then I’ll add on seven more. I’ll wanna scream because he makes me laugh so hard I can’t ever stay mad

And I’ll melt like butter because he sent flowers again with those four words that shatter anyone else’s sad dozen red roses with a cookie cutter “I Love You.”

Lost somewhere between wanting to keep my eyes open while we kiss so I can watch heaven or close them and go there

We’ll stare at a painting and look at it from every angle until closing time and walk out of there saying…”I don’t get it,”

Ask “what do you think,” and care if I answer.

Until he exists, I’ll write him into life

And inject air into breathless lungs.

And when we cross paths

He’ll know my words to be true…

“I loved you before I knew you.”