Whisper and Walk Slowly

Don’t tell him our story. The time we once were. Don’t mention the moment we wrapped each other in our arms before. Don’t breathe a word about the time that we last spoke; in the corner of your bedroom after my parent’s marriage broke. Don’t let him know you’ve listened, or that after there were stolen kisses. Place a blindfold over our adventures. Put a muffle over love’s confessions.Don’t ever let him know our story. We shouldn’t have him worry.


Diamonds of the Desert

Hushed mind for eternity. Kisses danced over the dusty darkness of the night. Freedom roamed. Energy bloomed in the full, midnight moon. Arms wrapped around twice for comfort and a cactus pricked my finger for the blood of the covenant we now hold. Mountain rocks shimmered in our eyes and the stars reflected off them all the light of our future. We dipped and weaved through the palm fronds and found each other amidst the dirt and diamonds of the desert.

It Would Always Be You

​Water ran down my neck and onto my back as I forced my face through the cascade. This shower was not the first I had with you, nor would it be the last. But as my palm hit the wall in front of me for balance, my mind, which was racing, went blank. It was you. It would always be you. Water washed away the doubt. Presented purity. Raw. Beautiful. Love. I left my head underneath the waterfall and let the silence consume me once more before I turned to meet your eyes. You didn’t understand my stare. Puzzled, you grabbed my neck with your left hand and pulled me in and kissed my forehead. You combed my hair with your right hand until I blinked. It was you. It would always be you.

My dreams, not yours

From the bottom of my heart, all I have wanted from you was you. But you didn’t have the courage to follow through. Didn’t allow me a picture of us two, a baby and a dog Moo, a house with a porch too. 

You didn’t see my dreams come true. You hated how I invisioned my future, called it poo. Believed in your own coo. Believed in your friends too. Just not me. Not what I believe. Make me your enemy so that I may see defeat. So that I might take the heat for you never loving me. 


All my life I have whispered to myself before bed to ease the hurt. Wrote in a journal to understand the pain. But when he left, there was only a physical reaction they don’t teach you in sports or school. This is not biology. This requires no rational. My soul ached like it had been snatched, pulled from the chest and ripped as far away from my body like a shirt that I dangled from – fingers of the soul gripping my physical being. Then, like a rubber band, snapped back in as a reality-check to not lose my soul in another.

Competitive Partner

He lives in the competitive bone in your body. He exercises his body in your mind and you want to see more. And more. You wait for the ball in your court and while he serves, you’re captivated in his curves. You smile at his saves. You dive at his dispair. You are one with him, but darling you are too competitive, so you look on.