Did you even know?

How could you.

I thought I made it clear.

My feelings for you.

Every single night

Would I go home and think of you and I.

Should I have doubted?

Because I didn’t.

My intuition was wrong

For the first time in some years.

The future looked prominent

With you involved.

Dreams told me otherwise

From the reality that’s set.

I hope that one day

You find someone

Who sees you the way I do.

Nothing less

You deserve.


Unconditional love.


Young and Free

I think about you sometimes,

More often than others.

Even if you don’t think that I do.

I do.

I remember those nights we sat up all night listening to the waves crash down on the sand we could see from above.

That time you cooked me dinner and sat up all night to hear my stories no one knows about.

Our first date –

I didn’t think I would be able to refrain from kissing you the whole night.

Those eyes –

It’s always been those eyes.

They pierce through me with intensity.

They see right through me.

My favorite out of all our memories has to be the night in your convertible.

We stuck together like glue.

I didn’t ever want you to leave.

As my fingers ran through your soft blonde hair,

My wall built there.

You were everything I had wanted.


You were everything I feared.

And I let fear get in the way of your sweet love.

Just know,

I remember the way I would see you sitting on the counter reading a novel.

I remember that laugh that was so contagious.

I remember the sexy smile you would give me when I couldn’t have you.

I remember running around the condo with no clothes on.

We were young. We were free. You were everything to me.

10 Year Unplanned

They ask me,

So nonchalantly,

Where I see myself in years divisible by 10.

I respond in a manner so sure of myself,

“Maybe in an office or in a lab doing research”.

They smile at my responsible response.

Then they murmur amongst themselves of how proud they are of me.

How I have turned into such a young adult.


What they don’t know,

Is how I really see my future.

I see myself sitting in front of a window that overlooks a snowy Brooklyn.

Writing screenplays and listening to symphonies.

Going to art gallery openings presenting the best artists in the world.

Flying to France to experience the culture of love.

Meeting models and musicians and chefs from great talent.

Making love to the sweet, sweet sound of rain in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Falling for people, places, foods, smells, sounds, words, so many words.

Listening to a beautiful man read his poetry to me in a language native to him.

Waking up to the sunlight flooding onto my face overlooking mountainous ranges.

Feeling the radiating beauty that embodies the essence of this life.

My future,

It is full of happiness and sadness and excitement and love and pain.

My future,

It isn’t something I can explain on a blank questioner.

My future can only be felt – shared through the raw connections of wonder.

Cold Streets

I walk around this unfamiliar place with a blank stare on my face.

The streets are slightly wet from a recent rain that may have taken place.

Something halts my feet to a stop.

I look down to find a giant pile of rum.

My first instinct is to bend down and pick it up.

Yet, an internal feeling makes me keep walking instead.

Canopy trees cover the midnight sky so I can’t see the fast clouds fly by.

Sometimes there is an echo that resembles a cry.

Or it could be someone’s morbid laugh.

Lights flicker on and off as I coat the road carelessly.

Even though I have never been here before,

I can’t help but recognize the small, pebbled cracks in the fold of the textured walls.

And the scent almost reminds me of the smell of my own nose.

That’s when the pieces all came together to click –

I had been wandering the street of my own inner mind this whole time.


Oh, you don’t want me, do you?

Well, allow me to curl up and wallow.

Except, I would never do that over you.

I just have more motivation to find someone better than you.

I put my heart out on the line – farther than I’ve done before.

And you couldn’t even open my door.


Is it what they wear?

Is it who they know?

Is it how they act?

Is it their taste in clothes?


Do they say different words?

Do they sing different verses?

Do they praise different gods?

Do they just do the right motions?


Tell me,

What is so different between them and I.

Tell me,

What do they have that I don’t provide.


Maybe we are just from two separate worlds.

What if opposites don’t attract in our case this time.

Should I change my ways to fit into yours?

Or should I just accept the realistic improbability of our love?

French Speaking Love

It’s the little things that you do.

When you touch my arm to ask “how do you do?”.

Or the way you speak French to me so elegantly.

I like to watch the way your tongue presses against your cheeks.

And you mimic everything that I do.

Give me your time,

I will give you mine.

Let’s take this slowly.

One at a time.

Press my hand into the palm of yours.

Feel the energy I radiate close to your heart.

We have the moons and stars and suns backing us up.

The sky has lined up for us – we should just jump.

Float into the sea of endless love with me.

I can’t stand the thought of being just a fading memory.

Pour what you’ve seen into my floating head.

Paint the scenes of what you’ve seen overseas.

Love me with all the pain you lock away.

I know you’re afraid,

I know I’m afraid.

But I believe in this and us and you.

I have always believed in you.