Creeping up beside you, there is a feeling of complexity.

Hello, it’s nice to meet you.

Not quite what you expected.

Do you wish your days were numbered

Like the boring license plates

You watch pass you on the highway

Feeling like things make sense

Because you’re so focused

On where you’re going –

Where you’ve been going the whole time

But this one-way street has been reconstructed

You can turn off anytime

Just look at the Polaroid

Hanging from your visor

Trace the outline of a new route with your finger

Leave the map

Crumpled on your back seat

Where the wind blows the ashes of your half smoked cigarette

And look to the sky as daylight fades

Turn down the radio

So you can listen to the waves

As your heart beats in tune with the pulls of the tide

Stare up at the stars

And breathe deeply.

Pick up the map

And find me.

My life is open like a wallet snatched by a pick pocket

And empty to his dismay, he looks around

Sees me staring at the ground

At a picture in the puddle

Of my only memory

On the cobblestone streets near the cathedral

My reflection distorted by the dips between stones

Dirty rain water painting of this face I used to know

I am alone.

Quiet and hungry

No words to unfold me

I seek satisfaction in the stench of the city

Brought about by the hobos and mopeds

These are the days I most often recall

And there is some kind of peace I can find

In these moments

That feel so tragic but utterly truthful

I have not figured out how to love you

But I continue to try

I continue to learn

And ask questions to the stars.

The possibility of loving you is tremendous

But I cannot love you.

You are the shadow on a wall that I seek at sunrise

My fingertips can touch the surface,

But they cannot grasp your entirety.

You are all things beautiful

And I understand the complication

Of seeing you the way I do,

In awe.

In a moment of tranquility,

The stars grant me an answer to my endless inquisition –

You cannot love me.

And so, I have learned to love you wholly,

Enough for both of our hearts.

Shells crack on the side of the frying pan

Yolks dance across the heated surface

And you’re still asleep.

The sun begins to peek its way through

The clouds

And your arms are outstretched above your head.

I can’t hear it from the kitchen,

But I can feel your sigh satisfaction

From a good night’s sleep

As you slowly turn over

And nestle yourself back in the sheets.

The toaster pops

And the kettle whistles,

Reminding me of all the reasons I love you.

Seedless rye

And chai tea,

Every Sunday for the past three years

So many things change…

But never that.

We’ll always have our breakfast in bed.

I’ll crack a joke on the side of the road

A smile dances across your face

And I’m still dreaming.

The world begins to spin

Out of control

And my arms are outstretched

Like a young child dizzy on the playground.

You can’t hear it from where you’re standing

But my heart is beating faster

from the adrenaline rush

as I quickly hit the ground

and fall back to sleep.

The alarm clock sounds

And the morning birds chirp

Reminding me of all the reasons I love you.

Waking up to kisses

And the scent of your body…

Everyday for the past three years.

So many things change…

But we’ll always have

Our breakfast in bed.

The sound of the crickets is repetitive

And irritating

But comforting at the same time

As their legs fiddle against their bodies

A rush of memories explode

Through my mind

And all of a sudden

I am six

Catching fireflies

Simply enjoying life.

I am happy for no reason

And I will soon forget

How to feel that way again.

For each little light

That flickers in the jar

Next to my bed

I tell myself

I will keep those moments

Separate from

The real world

So that I can come back

And remember --

Then all of a sudden

I am twenty-three

Listening to the crickets chirp

Twiddling my thumbs

And forgetting what it felt like

To catch fireflies

And enjoy life

The blustery winter air creeps in the door behind you

As I walk out of the kitchen

I am seeing everything so clearly

You in all of your beauty

Taking your hood off and wiping the fresh snow from your face

Stomping your shoes against the welcome mat

As you hear me say that dinner is ready

It feels like a slow-motion movie scene

As you pick your head up

And look at me

I think about all of the moments like these.

There is a set change for each season,

As I recall in November

The leaves crunched under your boots

And you smelled like pumpkin pie.

In June,

Your dew covered sandals

Rested by the door,

Your lips tasted like honeysuckle

And your hair smelled of lilac.

And for the entirety of March

You looked like heaven.

Hair pulled back,

In your best tee shirt

Shoelaces tapping against the hallway floor

As you rush in to tell me

You just heard the funniest story.

So while you stand in front of me,

And I seem to stare, but not to speak…

These are my memories,

The quiet things I like to keep.

As the rain trickles from the awnings

We stand hand in hand on the street corner

And wait for the storm to pass

But I suppose for a minute

I hope it continues to rain

So we can stay this way

With our hips hardly touching

But your breath on my neck

I sacrifice my jacket

And hold you closely

Your mascara drips slowly

Making its way down your cheeks

You ask me, “How do I look?”

And as much as I would love to tell you

“Just perfect,”

That is not what I believe.

You look flawed but wonderful

And I’d have it no other way.

Because the raindrops caught in your dimples

Will be what I remember most

and the absence of make up

boasts how exquisite you truly are.