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.



via Daily Prompt: Successful

“Work hard, but also work smart,”

was your message to me,

before I was even old enough

to know exactly what work was.

You set the example, long hours,

hands like sandpaper, knees aching,

and all the hours taking their toll,

until your body was no longer able to cope.

You said keep at it, never quit

if the work was worth being done,

own it, make it top priority.

Father, you did it, worked all those years,

to provide for us, your family,

and really, you set me up to win,

even before I was ready to work,

you made it possible for me to be


All your work, like a lighthouse beacon

showing me the path even in the darkest night.



via Daily Prompt: Privacy

Elliot sat in the diner, in one of the booths, slouching down so that the back of his head rested evenly on the top of the cushioned seat. He watched the rain fall against the glass and wondered how many people have sat in this same spot.

The waiter took his order: tall glass of chocolate milk. That’s what his mother would give him as a child whenever he felt sad, but he’s grown now and so, a waiter will have to bring him that chocolate milk now.

Josh arrived thirty-seven minutes later and about three glasses of chocolate milk.

Elliot looked annoyingly at him as he plopped down in the seat across from him. The seat made a weird rubbing noise as denim met leather and a slight gust of air came out through a tear in the seat.

“‘Sup, sunshine? Been waiting long?” Josh offered.

“Bro, it’s been an hour. If you meant eight o’clock, why did you say seven?”

“Well, I meant seven is when I’d leave. Come on, man, I thought you’d have figured this out by now.”

“I thought, given the circumstances, you’d have rushed over here.”

“Well, you thought wrong. It’s not even that important, bro. She’s not that important.”

Elliot looked puzzled at this comment. Not important? Yes, Janelle wasn’t exactly Josh’s best friend, but she and Elliot had been together for half a decade. Surely that was enough time to make her important.

“She was important to me!” Elliot exclaimed.

“That’s just it, bro, she was important to YOU. No one else gave a crap about her. Nobody wanted to see you two actually make it. You wanna know why?”

“I don’t, but you’re going to tell me anyway, right?”

“Damn right! Just like you were going to invite her to everything we invited you to, right? She didn’t care about you. She just wanted to make you a freakin’ puppet. There wasn’t a life there for you, bro, just follow the leader and be a good little slave.”

“Just shut up, man. You don’t know anything. Just leave me alone.”

Josh was fed up. He watched his best friend slowly become a different person through the years. Janelle had sapped him of all things good. Transformed him into a shell of his former self, and now, in this diner, he realized there was no saving his friend.

“Fine! You know what, Elliot? You’re right about that. I don’t know anything. I’ll give you your privacy. You’re on your own from now on.”

Josh took a couple of tens from his pocket and dropped them on the table. “Chocolate milk is on me, you little bitch. Have fun! Oh! And if she does take you back, and she will, no one else fits the role of bitch as much as you do, do yourself a favor, grow a set of man-sized balls.”