Summer is my favorite season

I like how Summer feels

cool air blowing from a fan

perched on the windowsill

the humming of machinery

as it soothes the heat

my bare skin exposed to the elements

letting Mother Nature imprint herself on me

my body slowly becoming Summer

and Summer quickly becoming me.

just enough to keep things interesting

It takes time to find comfort in warmth

when all you’ve known are the scars

of being burned by fire

but he’s not fire this one-

he is water with a little bit of dirt

just enough to keep things

interesting

slowly I’m learning

to soften my walls and open

parts of myself that I’ve kept shut

for a long time now

slowly I’m learning

to bend so I can

hold all of him

without drowning

in love

again.

Stand by

Any minute now he may call.

so you wait.

hoping to hear the words you know will never come.

 

I’m sorry I took your light as my own

and wore it down to a spark

you deserve better than my selfishness.

you deserve a galaxy to shine in

not a dark, empty sky;

I’m sorry I took your time, your nights, your breath and words

I’m sorry I wanted so much

and didn’t give enough.

 

You wait.

but they never come.

Instead you get to choose between a selfish love or being alone

as if it was even a question-

either one leaves you where you’ve been except

a little sadder now than before.

 

captive audience

I’ve tried to write different words

but my hands just won’t obey

Don’t get excited, I say to myself

But but but… my heart whispers back

can’t you see yourself loving again?

 

and so here I am, captive audience

to logic and love

as lady anger tells me once more

that I shouldn’t have listened

that I should have run

before my heart caved in

and got carried away

in his goodbye.

 

interrogation time

What is it that you’d like to get from me?

the scent of my skin wasn’t enough

and neither were the trail of kisses I left behind

somewhere between your back and the nape of your neck

my warm body next to your cold heart

is the saddest pair of opposites I’ve seen in a while

and let’s not get started on my mind

which you didn’t even try to discover.

 

Tell me-

If I had wings and lived slightly

but forever

out of reach

would you still have pushed me

into goodbye?

the day a fly won

I was throwing some wine back when I noticed a small fly of sorts

at the bottom of my glass.

I saw it slowly move its tiny legs and immediately

my heart began to fill with empathy, so naturally

I decided I would save it.

Since I sat pen-in-hand, I dipped the fine tip of my black sharpie

in the deep red and urged the fly to take hold of it,

the act transforming my pen into a

literary lifesaver any writer would appreciate.

Thankfully the fly seemed to cooperate

as it clung to my writing instrument

allowing me to rescue it from the booze and place it

down on the balcony floor.

I laughed a little then

noticing how disoriented my friend seemed

as it stumbled around, getting perilously close to

falling through the cracks with each step it took.

“Maybe this fly has a death wish I know nothing about,” I thought.

Feeling good about my gracious deed

I wiped the Monastrell off the pen

and tried to write again

but to my dismay-

my pen was dead.

I guess it just goes to show that in the end

you can’t save everything.

 

Today the fly won.

brick by brick

I’m well aware of my walls.

I spent years building them, after all-

I mixed every hurt and heartbreak with my tears

and out of this sad mix

I built the bricks

that surround me now.

I’m well aware of my thorns.

I get pricked by them too, after all-

sometimes distance hurts the most

for the one who creates it

and if pain is the other side of pleasure

you need to go through a bit of wounding

to earn my love lately.

 

snow on the first day of Spring

It’s the first day of Spring.

I press my nose against the cold glass of the door that leads out into the balcony and stare out into the snow- it’s been an hour or so since it started falling and already tree branches support the weight of Winter as rooftops dress themselves in white.

None of life is the way it should be right now.

I wonder for how much longer will I have to stand here, gazing upon the outside world with a foreign sense of hope that arrived suddenly from I don’t know where. I wonder for how much longer I’ll try and hold on to old ways of living and the need to produce something beautiful and worthwhile out of the silence that envelops the entire planet right now.

Is it Winter or is it Spring?

Sometimes life is just as uncertain as the weather.