Micro

Like all the little things you do

How you ask me how i’m doing

How you encourage me to get out of bed

How you let me know when you’ll be home

How you celebrate my small wins

Though those are even few and far between

i lose more than i win

Always failing

And i forget to see

Your micro love

And all that you do for me

True love isn’t in the grand gestures

It’s in the everyday ones

And in the way you softly say,

“hey”

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Suddenly (031018)

And suddenly I loved you.

I know I should have always,

I just didn’t though.

You loved me too soon

and I loved you too late.

If only we could have met in the middle.

And suddenly we are finding out what we mean

to each other.

I can’t hear the truth because it will break

my heart

my hope

my “us”.

I hold on too tight;

teach me to let go.

Untitled/021917

Tell me about him.
He was sixteen once,
but then again, maybe he’s only ever been
sixteen.
He loves motorcycles.
And women,
three women.
One me.
Ink under skin, all over.
Vaguely remember owls,
screech owls.
Cigarettes,
the taste of tobacco on his lips.
The scent of bourbon
as he exhales into my hair.
Rough hands rest gently
on me.
A motorcycle accident,
I lived it a thousand times
before it ever happened.
“You hungry?” and “How are you?”
Whispers in the middle of the night
between arms
that keep holding on.
Promises to our children
that we’ll do the best we can
and then try to do better,
and those same promises
are for me too.
He’s twenty-five, a good man.

Patronus/Lumos

The silver doe,
I want it tattooed
on my right forearm.
Of course “Always.”
written underneath.
It’s a nod to Severus’ love
for Lily,
but also my love
for you.
And deer earned a place
in my heart long ago,
when we moved
to a tiny little town
named for the skins
that men hung there.
But I’ve never seen
the animal on this mountain;
others say they have.
I saw them more often
in the city where we met,
at the school where we met.
So really this docile creature
intersected my soul
long before
the house on Comanche Drive,
long before I knew
how Severus loved Lily,
long before I picked a tiny reindeer
to hang on a tiny tree,
long before I became
anonymous.
But now the world can know
my name
and later they’ll know me
by the mark on my arm,
the Life Mark,
the Love Mark.

Untitled/123116

Pine-cones: the most legit
form of romance.
Whether you found it
in the backyard of your childhood
home
or bought it cinnamon-scented
from a store.
And books
and thoughts of books.
Eyelid kisses
and awkward goodbye hugs.
“We good?”
and two arms around me
at some odd a.m. hour.
And when you finally fall
from the pedestal
I put you on,
what will I see?
Will I still believe
it’s romantic?
When you smack my ass,
trace my curves,
brush your cold feet against mine,
place a hand on my sleepy back
and tell me about the other girls,
thank me for waking you up
to take her to work?
Will I call it love?
Or abuse?
Please don’t fall,
that way I’ll never find out.

Duck, Duck, Goose, and We Go Around Merrily/120416

People don’t build relationships.
Relationships build themselves,
often accidentally.
That’s the beauty of it.
And last night
I saw the Christmas lights
on your bedroom curtains.
It reminded me of a dream
I once had about us.
It was the one with the stars,
billions of them and the distance
between us that didn’t exist.
The distance does not exist,
except when you create it.
This distance you fabricate
to keep yourself safe.
But I could keep you
safe,
or at least try my damnedest
to.
On the nights no one’s looking
we look like we fit,
as you curl your body
around me
and I’ve stopped wearing socks to bed
just to feel your cold feet.
Sometimes you call me baby
or interlace your fingers with mine,
those are the moments
you forget what we are
and get lost
in what we could be.
You can keep calling a duck
a goose,
but she knows what she is.

float back to me, please

i notice when you have sunglasses
and i notice more when you don’t
but still i do not look in your eyes
i’m sure that if i do i will forget
how to breathe
and yet i barely remember their color
and question whether my memory
is correct or created
are they the even honey brown
that i’ve always thought they were?
or something else entirely?

you showed me the ring you got
a symbol for our youngest son
you took it off your finger
and handed it to me
my first thought
was to put it on my finger
my left ring finger
stopped myself just in time
and slipped it on my pinkie instead
we talked about the ring a second
before i handed it back to you

tonight was one of those nights
the nights where i forget who we are
forget that we don’t talk often
tonight you smiled, i smiled
tonight you laughed, i laughed
we talked about life
talked about little things
you told me how much you love
riding your motorcycle
and you gotta fix your tire
i told you about my soon-to-be-born nephew
and his name and how unfortunate it is

In response to Eyes.

it’s a long story

is she your security blanket
or your government-issued ankle-bracelet,
or maybe you just love her
and you’re too fucking codependent?

I wrote the first verse
before you showed up tonight,
but when I saw the dust,
I knew you’d left her home.

she makes you drive lame,
like she’s precious cargo
and a bump might break her,
whereas I let you push 96

and in a Volvo too
back when it was just us.
the cop let you off easy
with just a speeding ticket for 90.

and so we stood in the driveway.
tonight I had time to stare,
to remember your face,
but not close enough to memorize

your eyes. More feet between us
than I would have liked,
but I think it was for safety
because our walls didn’t exist tonight.

I joked about being too clumsy
to be a stripper and you laughed.
A genuine laugh, probably because
you know it’s true. And now I’m taken

back to yesterday when J
“taught” me how to play guitar
and I showed him that my old acoustic
makes a pretty good drum too.

And then I remembered,
two years or so ago I wrote
“Learn to play (and sing) Sheridan
on guitar” on a list of random to-dos,

meant to help straighten
my life out and
make some sense of
a broken heart and uncertain future.

Tonight I’m looking up tab
and telling myself tomorrow
I’ll begin to learn Sheridan
and someday I’ll sing it for you.

I think this one could go on
for years because tonight
I ache to count the freckles
that color your yellow cheeks brown.

and every moment of our lives
is colliding with 30 minutes
we spent in my parents’ driveway,
encompassing fifty plus years-

our ages added together because
even our years together would be
seen different thru the other’s eyes,
@ six thirty pm on July 29th 20-16.

still waiting

Normally I wouldn’t share something from my Facebook account, but one that just popped on the “On This Day” app is feeling very relevant today. Two years ago this is what I posted on Facebook:

“I believe in true love. Sometimes it’s small and gentle, other times it’s gigantic and intense, at times it gets misplaced and you’re scared it’s gone, but maybe it’s really always there and you can never shake the feeling you have for that person; true love never fails, it waits, it weathers every storm. I will wait, call me an idiot, but I’ll wait.”

This is about R, of course. He picked the boys up today because I had a family thing. He wasn’t in a rush and was totally cool with the fact that the kids were soaking wet and dirty. He shook my brother’s hand, said hey to my nephew, asked about my other brother’s truck, talked about having leftover Christmas candy. We made “small talk” for longer than we usually do. We asked a little about each other’s families and talked about upcoming events. Today was an easy interaction with R, ridiculously easy, to the point where I do not know why we’re not together. Oh wait, yes I do know: he has a girlfriend/fiance. I truly believe that if he was not with her, he and I would have a real chance at being a couple again. Regardless of the crushes I’ve had and regardless of what happened with C, I still love R and I fall in love with R basically ever time I see him and sometimes a text is enough to hook me back in. R is my true love and I’ll hold out for him for the rest of my life.