I crack
an unvarnished egg and
its ripe,
orange yolk falls
to pewter floor tile.
Absentmindedly,
I grab
the kitchen broom, then
come to my senses.
I try
to scoop the egg’s insides
it oozes
through the spaces
between my fingers.
Instinctively,
I think
to make a mask,
then reconsider.
Staring at mess,
I wonder
how quickly can things go
so wrong
Are all pristine things
made to break
too soon?
Our love
is like dusty
land scorched
from arid heat.
A centuries-old
volcano, still active
and threatening
eruption.
We beg
the gods for airs
wet and sweet, but
the rain never falls.
How best
to describe a thing
so thick
and oppressive?
That fills
us up and lays us
out, bloated
and plump to the touch.
What leaves words
limp and inadequate,
yet binds us
forever.
Such sounds
insufficient – how many
ways to say souls
split then sewn back together?
Cotton candy has nothing
on the way you
delight me with every
mouthful of your love.
I chew and savor
until it disappears,
melting in my mouth
and I beckon you for more.
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I know how to make a bouquet
from scratch. I pull out daisies
dead and molded from the dank water
from the purple vase, wash it clean,
and throw the flowers in the garbage.
There were no more flowers since
the day you walked out, the house
suddenly lost its charm and natural
light, and I found new ways to
make myself whole again.
You and I
stayed up all night
talking about nothing
in the dim light of an old restaurant.
Outside,
your glasses fogged up
in the snow
and I felt your warm hand in those
leather gloves on the small of my back
grabbing for me as I almost slipped
on the ice.
And now you’re thousands of miles
and thousands of text messages away from me.
We tried to make it work,
somehow long distance always wins the battle.
Until next time
I can see you in the New England snow
with more walks around the Commons
and dinners in dimly lit restaurants.
Maybe it’s how your hair
falls across your forehead
or how your eyes constantly change
colors, my vision of you shifting
along with it, you keep me excited
as a new you unravels within every glance
as you smirk at me, secretly taunting
me for having a crush on you.
I’ll never forget
our walks down
empty city streets,
grabbing each other’s hands,
gripping so tightly.
I’ll never forget
talking all night
about everything
and nothing
as we fell asleep
to the sky changing colors.
Even though it’s
over and there’s
no more
“us,”
I’ll never forget.
Fireflies on a summer night
light up the black sky,
as I feel you beside me.
Warmth and electricity
radiate from us, buzzing,
and we laugh at the stars
for conspiring our fate:
Together.
Friday nights
are the best
with you.
Whiskey in hand
by the fireside
with nothing to
do and nowhere
to be except
in each other’s
arms.
“Friday nights.” – sugar and sandalwood
The town lit up
as the sky turned black
and we walked down
the boardwalk,
hand in hand,
counting the stars.
“Counting the stars.” – sugar and sandalwood
heartbreak and cigarettes 