the sticky summer air

The sticky summer air

wants to know how I’ve been

since we last talked.

I’ve had my ups and downs

but I’m here now.

I didn’t find God

but I did find a purpose

hidden somewhere between the stationary aisle of CVS

and New England in September.

Sometimes winter feels like going

through hell and back just to

feel summer warmth again

but it’s worth it

or at least there’s some gratitude

as I’m sitting under

a cherry blossom

and I feel myself blossom,

too.

then the next

Every day just passes

then the next.

I can’t believe how lonely

this all gets.

I swear it works | poem

some days all I can do

is sit by an open window

and hear the rain pour

and imagine it’s rinsing out

any sad thoughts inside me

cleansing me.

and sometimes

I swear it works

easy going

Some days are hard

but I’ve accepted that.

Some are easy,

and those keep me afloat.

table

And I was so focused on the table

Brown with a crack down the middle

I couldn’t imagine ever taking my eyes off it

Especially not to look at your face

I could picture it just fine in my head

Even after the tears welled

And I couldn’t see anything anymore

I knew you were looking right at me

if I ever feel it again #flashfiction

I didn’t feel anything when he left. I took all the energy I would’ve had and lost myself in all the things I loved before he came into my life, as if I hadn’t changed in the last two years. And it was somewhere around the third week that I realized with each person that leaves, a part of me dies. And someday there will only be flesh and bone that’s left, but even that was never mine.

And I wonder if I’ll ever feel it again.

Sometimes

Sometimes it hurts

Sometimes I’m in love

Sometimes I feel nothing at all

Someday I’ll let the ocean take me

Coffee at 23

I sip my coffee

I don’t chug

I like the bitter taste

it gets better with age

and someday I’ll take it black

that’s when you’ll know

I’ve gone bitter like the rest.

void

There will always be a void

deep inside my chest

there’s one for you

and all the others who’ve left

and I want to believe

that someday these voids will be filled

but it’s true what they say

that everyone leaves

and sometimes they come back

but sometimes when they do

they don’t do it because they missed you

or your jokes or your stories

they missed the attention you gave them.

fresh

I will write your name over and over

until it does not hurt anymore

and if that takes a thousand pages

at least it will be over.

and I will forgive you someday

but first I have to forgive myself

and sure, I’ve learned to love myself

but it’s still fresh

it started when I left