I don’t much sleep anymore.

Maybe it’s the heat.

Maybe it’s the wild thoughts

running through my head.

Maybe it’s because I dream,

a little too much about her,

and in my dreaming I worry

that I may fall deeper into love.

She is oblivious.

I am occupied, taken.

She summed it up, once,

as beautifully as anyone could ever

sum up the situation,

“you can’t be compatible

with someone who’s married.”


Drink Fire, Vomit Pain

When I was in my twenties I didn’t drink. It wasn’t that I was prohibited from doing so, in fact, I was encouraged to. My friends all drank, socially, or whatever it is you call a bunch of idiots gathering around and drinking until someone was too drunk to stand. I, well, I took the high road because I was pretentious. Pretentious and drinking alcohol made me want to cut off my tongue and soak it in cheese just to rid myself of that awful taste. I justified it, saying I didn’t need to drink to be social. And while they had fun, I sat quietly, observing their inebriated behaviors.


Perhaps, I was friends with them during the wrong years of my life. Or maybe alcohol is an acquired taste and I was just too averse to it to give it a chance. Now, I don’t mind the taste so much. The brief moments of clarity during the drunkenness are a welcomed surprise. And, the way it distracts from the actual pain makes it a worthwhile companion.


You see, I’ve come to treat alcohol like a high school friend (the friends I had during my twenties). Whenever they came around they made me feel good for a while; then they’d be around too long and I’d get irritated and want to fight; they’d leave and I’d remember that I didn’t like them all that much to begin with; then I’d get lonely, alone with my thoughts, and I wish they were around again.


I guess I’ll have another drink and wonder some more.




I stood in front of her, kind of. I say “kind of” because I leaned my back against my car and only had my head turned towards her. She leaned against my car trying to mimic my stance, but she had her whole body turned towards me. I wondered about the jeans she had on. Did they have those little metal tabs on the pockets that might scratch the paint on my fender? I guess I shouldn’t have cared about that, but I couldn’t help it.


She smiled the entire time, telling me about her week. I smiled too, genuinely interested in her stories. We didn’t talk much anymore, not since she quit, but that night was catch up time and I enjoyed every second.


Somewhere in our friendship I might have realized I wanted her, and held onto the feeling because letting it out, that is, letting her know, would have been disaster. So, it came out in a not so subtle way, unnoticeable to a fool in love. I guess I came on too strong at times. She would never say, but I knew.


She continued with her stories, and then her alarm went off. Bedtime. We said our goodbyes, and I wondered if I’d ever see her again.


via Daily Prompt: Rhyme

We are different, you and I,

from upbringing to current life,

you struggled through most of it,

forging your own path,

making decisions that would

get you to your paradise.

I had the path placed before me,

followed a map to an end

that I may or may not have wanted,

but I’m here all the same.

We met on a Monday,

an ordinary first day,

I sat, slightly slouched in my chair,

leaning back in comfort,

you sat straight up trying to read me.

You and I don’t make a lot of sense,

we are a poem with an irregular rhyme scheme,

chaotic throughout, completely surprising eyes,

causing confusion as we break away

from conventions and what everyone expects to see,

but in the end, that awkwardness, that irregularity,

makes us better, makes the ending a better payoff.

We might not make sense throughout,

but by the end, we’re beautiful together nonetheless.


Convincing Myself Otherwise

via Daily Prompt: Visceral

“It isn’t love. Not even close.”

That’s what I tell myself when she’s on my mind.

I’ve known her a couple years,

but we’ve only really known each other a few months.

We spoke one night, when I was a thousand miles away,

about future plans, past memories, and current moods.

We covered every topic

and learned so much from each other,

almost intimate, but never crossed those boundaries

because we both had limitations.

I’m unsure how she feels, but I know for sure,

that, I don’t love her,

at least that’s what my mind wants me to think,

but deep down, a visceral love–

is hard to deny even when reason disagrees.


Lurching Heart

via Daily Prompt: Lurch

She stood, mostly at a distance,

but close enough that I could make out her eyes–

those beautiful brown eyes, piercing into my soul.

She smiled a full smile and I couldn’t help but think

“this is the highlight of my day.”

I looked away from her, into the star-filled sky,

trying my hardest not to solely stare at her,

“so, I’ll talk to you next week?” I probed.

“Next week? Why not tomorrow?”

And with that, I felt my heart lurch,

my lungs overcome

as my mouth took in more air than needed.

“Sure!” I replied trying to sound calm.

And as she walked away,

into the darkness of her driveway,

I stood for a second longer,

realizing those stars are probably closer,

than she and I will ever be.



via Daily Prompt: Clean

Those memories were kept in spaces

in the back of minds that can no longer remember–

not amnesic, but rather, actively forgotten,

to numb pain that was associated with them.

She walked ahead of me, slightly,

always a few steps in front and never side by side.

Her hair smelled like sin and her smile,

like fire, melted me into something she,

and only she, could mold into what she wanted.

On a Thursday, she left me, with fake tears

in her eyes, a remorseful fake-out,

pretending that my pain was hers to bear.

I cried, but in the midst of the sobbing,

I realized she had driven all that way,

when a phone call would have sufficed.

–That made me smile, a little.

Now with my memories gone, I am refreshed,

a brand new, clean slate, and maybe this time,

I’ll find someone willing to walk alongside me.