Georgia is home.
Chronic Jet Lag.
Charles Bukowski lover.
Power Ranger Historian.
Film and movie junkie
Franz Kafka fan
Home is a Feeling.
You can’t let go making a fist—
or trying to stop them from bleeding
into your happiness because this time,
they come in the shape of words and gestures.
There’s a moment you are given
the chance to walk away;
and you take it and run.
It’s right before they explain
or chose not to.
It’s a warm, slow trail to the bottom of your face
to wipe away and to forget.
Lie about and rub on your jeans—
Love her from a distance
and forgive yourself—
I hope she ignored the moment
and stared at me instead, I did.
Both or neither. I don’t decide what I like. I like what I like and that’s it. I’ve dated and loved some of the world’s best kept secrets and some ‘hits and misses.’ And if that person happens to be you… God, help you. lol
I’m human— but I’m also me; so I’m definitely more of a bundle of nerves than profound wisdom.
Any pain, experience, situation, feeling, emotion, or nostalgic moment can cause me to express myself. I choose poetry and my writing because I feel I can control what comes out more compared to any other medium. It’s therapy and a curse all at the same time. I ask for it and beg it to stop.
I do understand that I invade the privacy and trust of some friends and loved ones because when I write; my life has no conditions or limits…. Anything is available. And that sometimes includes the choices and happenings in other peoples’ lives as well as in mine.
I need that openness to be vulnerable and to explore whatever I want to convey, get out, or have heard. You know, artists are somewhat selfish— as long as we are able to express ourselves— the world it’s not ending.
My heart knows more than what I can ever obtain or express… So I can’t answer that… Only my heart can or could.
Believe people the first time…
Love at first sight… Because it happens.
Being and staying open.
And lastly, romance…
I believe in romance over all. It can happen
That’s a little hard… I guess never finished last bites of any good meal and not meaning or showing “I love you” and “You’re worth every minute” enough.
But then again… I’m human.
It’s harder being single than it is taken.
Everyone wants something without
an explanation or to know what happened.
“Two perfect people just don’t give up.”
I hate the nights you beg your body
to sleep and give you rest.
I hate the nights you hold her, alone,
in your heart waiting for her to return.
You remember and you pause with why
you can’t or won’t.
You remember and adapt the current
of nostalgia and remembering.
She cannot be yours if she cannot stay.
She is gone and she was never here.
That is best way to put falling in love
with a woman more transparent than ghost.
Her love is the only real thing.
She loves and she exists through that.
I want the sky to hold the colors
of my heart and mimic the light
Tonight, you can have my secrets
and my patience and my confidence;
as long as the woman you are
is the woman I get to hold.
My heart cannot begin to hold you
in the ways my arms can’t.
I wait, in moments where you’ll
remember how you’re my second sun.
There’s a home in your arms I need;
You compliment love as if it’s not enough.
Who have I been without you in my life?
You inspire something bigger in me I
want to share with you.
There will be bouts and plateaus where you possibly may not recognize me out of my aggression—
remember how my days will continue
but with you I more much light.
You are more important to me than
what I can see or even know.
You make it all so simple
and if I had it, it’s yours.
You can’t fall in love with a mistress
in the body of a good woman.
The convertible doesn’t seat your guilt
and her friends’ words can’t come either.
I can’t let go of you.
You left your heart with me.
You’re a bitch when you want it.
And you turn into your promises
when you don’t get your way.
And it’s hard to move alone.
“Why does it hurt so much?”
I know exactly what you need
but you can’t afford it listening to
the old you wanting to do better.
Sometimes I can look at you
and just know.
Don’t try to make it so simple
it’s meant to be more.
We’re meant to be, so assume that much.
I love you— and that’s soil for
everything I want to grow with you.