love this

this is all it was

closure

i still live in the meadow with the bed

underneath the fog and mist

with your belongings surrounding me

old books and childhood photos

in the home that you built with memories of your life

underneath the canopy of the trees

i explore the labyrinth you left me in

stumbling over marigolds and grapefruit

searching for dessert

sink

i thought you trusted yourself

at least for a while

your decisions

your ability to make choices

only trust that which is tangible

so wash your hands with magic soap

let the suds grow large and frothy

creating rivers from your wrists to your elbows

see how it feels and wash it away

letting the suds disappear down the drain

rest your wet hands on the sink

they will always look the same

but will be forever changed

friendship

i'm so lucky to be surrounded by wonderfully loyal and lovely people. today will be amazing! bikram, baking, bike ride, picnic and concert in the park.

summer song

little grains of salt

wonder

walking from the garage to my back gate, lighting flickers about my head. i should keep walking, but i don't. i just stand there in the desolate alley and wonder, do you see the same sky? do you feel a yearning towards the west, as i do towards the east? do you feel an attachment to the big bowls of soup or the blanket we used to share?

logic

while sleeping next to me, you awoke one day and noted the absence of experience across my face, while i lay curled up next to you. alone in the bathroom, staring at your own image in the mirror, you ran through thoughts of the past few months. these thoughts frightened you and you began to slowly magnify our differences. i woke to you pouring yourself cereal, and smiled a rather sleepy smile at you. you looked away, as if seeing my face reminded you of a memory you'd rather forget.

but now, you cannot see my face, which is how you wanted it. you cannot see me smile my sleepy smile, you cannot see me as i wait eagerly behind your glass door, you cannot see me drink my sugary coffee, or see me resting on the rug reading magazines. you are not allowed to see me or my face, just as i was not allowed to see you or your face when you decided to run away.

romance

this process, this is not new, this tug of war, this whirlwind of emotion. i always end up dating the two headed boy, pretending to be a man, unpredictable like chicago weather, but just as enticing and mysterious.

cute as a button

print request

will you please

melt my dear heart

with your gentle disposition

and buy me a box of chocolates

and maybe some flowers too

those things would be nice

but a letter would be better

in fact, letters are my favorite

especially the handwritten kind

written in your neat penmanship

unexpected

holding on tight, afraid of letting go

chasing caffeine and courage

in the shade, in the sun

with strong legs and a patchwork heart

waiting for the next best thing

and the swarm of butterflies

to come around the corner

like a whirlwind

running

my head's been in a cloud all day -- maybe it's the weather, maybe it's because it's monday, but i do not feel like myself. i have a headache, i never get headaches.

i want to turn off the phone, draw the curtains, slip under the covers, and sleep. the only sound i will hear is that of the air conditioner blowing it's musty cool air.

but i won't do that because i don't know how to slow down. before today, i had four free evenings this week. now, i'm booked through next week. a series of errands and work, social events and baking, jogging and movie dates, family time and bike rides.

i spread myself thin and wonder why i'm tired. i never sleep my eight hours, i just average my hours over the course of a few nights; four hours of sleep one night, eleven the next.

today i bought vitamins and fish oil at whole foods. they're supposed to energize me, so i won't feel sluggish, so i can get more done. tonight, i'll run my four and a half miles, eat dinner, and go to the movies. don't worry, i'll get my sleep in... eventually.

goodnight my sweet

coconut summer

sitting in a bar that looks like a vacant apartment

drinking gin and tonics and cheap beer

dancing to blues and soul on an empty dance floor

tangled tresses blow across our glistening faces

we laugh and ride home together

a series of blinking lights, red and white

our voices echoing through the empty 4am streets

the gravel becomes an iridescent river of pebbles

our shadows take turns leading the pack

i climb the three flights of stairs to my silent apartment

crossing the 15 foot stretch of creaky wooden planks to my bed

i crawl under the sheets in my dress, sweaty and tired

and dream of long days and unexpected nights

as birds chirp outside my window

happy birthday papa ruiz

for hope and wings

graceful today

a friend once told me that if you focus on all of the things beyond your control, the things that don't quite go your way, you'll eventually miss out on the subtleties that truly mean the most. when i got out of bed this morning, i made a promise to myself to focus on the positive, the unexpected, the things that matter.

i spent the day with my father and talked to him as if it were the last day i would ever talk to him. i expressed my fears and my secrets, and it was perfect and amazing. we connected in a way that we haven't connected in a long time, laughing over french fries and diet cokes. i hugged my mother for a long time and promised to bring her my homemade coconut cookies. i challenged myself and ran four and a half miles. i poured over family albums and saw how much we've changed over the years, how much i've changed. i sat at a coffee shop by myself and read. i like this life, even if i don't get everything i want. i thought about the things that matter to me and the things i need to work on, in order to continue to grow through honesty, gratitude, and acceptance.

i'm enjoying the process of getting older. i am no longer who i was one year ago. i feel more like myself than i have in a long time. tonight, i will wear a pretty dress and go out dancing.

writing takes me to a different place

the build up - lasted for days, lasted for weeks, lasted too long...

i never really had you

just kind of grazed your skin with my fingers for a while

drank black coffee out of your mugs

walked barefoot through your cave

and then you disappeared

into the upper peninsula of your thoughts

never really held your hand

other than behind closed doors

or kissed you on a busy street corner

or called you sweetheart

living the dream

a friend once told me

a surreal kind of like, or lust, or love

a calculated balance of the aforementioned

i guess it was a dream

i did never really live it

active recovery

running with good friends

cooking up an impromptu breakfast feast

baking with newfound kindred spirits

drinking pints of water with floating bits of lime

taking in anthony bourdain's wit through his pages

painting my toenails purple with shaky hands

sneaking a peach smoothie into a dark theater

catching up with old friends over sandwiches at the pick me up

riding my bike home late at night

sleeping in my bed all alone

hot dogs and sparklers