poetry

bee line

Remind me of it and there I’ll go.
A bee line.
as I lowered myself into the chair in a mid air criss cross apple sauce my right big toe hit the velvet cushy arm. it hurt.
there it is. that familiar pain.
as I sat i pressed ny thumb to the sorest part of the bone on that very big toe.
right at the joint and down into my foot a ways.
I pushed harder. it hurt.
it hurt when I walked on it, and it hurt if i pushed it.
but not when I left it alone.
a pain undetected in stillness. in leaving it alone.
but remind me of it and there Ill go.
a bee line.
an unwavering path just like the bees
me to pain.
finding its way home without hesitation.
so too can I trust in the certainty of my own inner compass.
that needs to be recalibrated.
it needs to point me toward truth, not survival.
i am not lost.
and pain is not the only way home.

unhinge

i have to unhinge the breath

from the stuck inhale

when she walks in the room.

the taking of my breath

kneeling

I kneel at the feet of my past

and violently thank it

for taking me here.

for taking me to her.

this morning

theres a woman washing dishes.

the room echoes stories of lives ill never know

my friend sits across the table reading

its a morning made of goodness and ease

and all i can think about

is that its a morning without you.

wealth

I dont know anyone richer than us.

look at the moments we share together

look at the work weve done

spiritually

emotionally

on a soul - level

look at what weve produced

look at our intentions

look at the images of love and family

we give the little ones

we are the richest people I know

and we never forget to spread the wealth

rich in commitment

loyalty

love

patience

resilience

we make the right kind of investments

and our ROI is love with no interest owed.

religion

her lips are my religion

for the words that escape them

for what they keep to themselves

to what they do

how they move

and

the mastery of their design

i am not religious

but im a believer.

we are the result of lifetimes of prayer

standing in line

a loving mother stared at me and i knew

it was the specific way only a mother of a gay girl could

but only if her own daughters like experience

was truly known.

romance

Romance is many things. Some might even say romance contains multitudes

I'm one of those people 'cause romance to me is a detailed apology to our partner as much as it is fighting that internal battle against the old, calcified, stubborn versions of ourselves that never get invited, but often show up to the party. Romance is kissing in every corner of a house. Its ever reason and every one that’s not needed, to touch her when she’s near.

Romance is impulsive patience.

Its setting the table for four instead of three. Its a glass of water with extra ice placed in front of you as you cuddle with her children. Romance is co-regulation. Romance is gentle and can be rough. Romance is her ice fold feet under 25 pounds of blankets and waking up next to her in peace knowing she’s safe. Romance is our playlist that seems to only play the same few songs no matter how many we add.

Romance is two booster seats in the back of my car. Its watching her relax and knowing I had a hand in that. Romance is not trying to be romantic, although sometimes it succeeds. To me its safety and laughter and an “I love you” just because. Romance is friendship. Its prioritizing respect so her kids know what love looks like, and giving them an example to look forward to and back on.

Romance, ive found, is none of the things we were taught it was, because romance can’t be taught. Only learned from patience, listening, attention to the things in ourselves that know how to hide. From energy and body language. From years-long conversations and learning from mistakes. Its caring more about the we than the me. Its learning from fights and repair and failing forward. together.

But mostly what romance is, is curiosity. And she is still my favorite question.

not one

sometimes the universe doesnt give a fuck about your feelings

it doesnt play nice.

doesnt wrap its lessons in soft velvet.

it grabs a crowbar and rips your life apart

while you stand there clueless

asking why.

everyones born with a cosmic barcode

stamped into your bones

unseen but permanent

most people never know its there

cuz it almost never matters.

matches are stupidly rare. mates of one soul.

most of us stumble around like idiots

checking boxes

saying this will do

all while wondering why it feels like drinking water

and still dying of thirst.

but when theres a match

the universe lights the whole god damn world on fire

to get those souls together.

and you?

you feel it before you can understandin it.

the pull. the hum.

the way their smile cracks open something in you

thats been dead for years.

this match was not a miss.

down to the last digit on those barcodes.

they could only feel it

the way their

hands

lips

words

fit like the ending of a prophecy

inevitable and unforgiving.

it wasnt a choice it was fucking gravity.

the universe they found out

doesnt give a shit about your past

your trauma

your reasons.

it sees the truth and nothing else.

and if youre too broken or scared to see it yourself

it resets the board.

not out of kindness

out of necessity

it doesnt wait for you to figure your shit out

it drags you to the edge an says JUMP

and if you dont

you lose everything.

but if you do...

its raw, like a struck match

but the warmth lingers

softening the edges where skin meets skin.

thank you

She. Her.
My watershed moment
My watershed love:
Self and shared.
Who I am
Who I was
Who Iʼll be
Have found themselves partners
Rather than strangers fighting to get away from one other.
Holding hands, in harmony, for what I can honestly say is the very first time.

I kneel at the feet of my past and violently thank it for never leading me anywhere else but here.

For getting me to the present with the head and heart Iʼve got.

I sit and hold the present like a child who needs as much freedom as she does the safety of a good long hug.

My future I see in the darkness of my blinks.

Tasting what could be, but not so much that I canʼt taste what is.

She's renewed my natural ability to care
To be patient
To question.

To play.
To discover.

To love.
To wonder.

She renews the child in me.
By helping me restructure my childish ways.

Sheʼs the u bolt
The thing that tightens and stabilizes
Secures and fastens my engine to my frame.

My heart to my body.

How do you say thank you for something like that?

I canʼt figure it out.
How do you say thank you with the proper worlds?

How do you properly say thank you to someone
for loving you so well
you canʼt stop loving yourself?

demanding

I saw a naked woman on tv and my body requested you with memory.

My body assuring my mind what I've never lost sight of

that every woman I see disappears into you.

Every desire I have clings to you.

All there is is you and the others.

the others being every other woman on earth

and it wasnt a request

it was a fucking demand.

value

I drive by the hookah place that stayed open in the thick of covid. In the middle of the shutdown.

I wonder how much that cost them.

I think about what money can buy.

I think about how the things we want the most cant be bought.

We’re trained to make money. To buy things we need and most of what we can’t afford.

What if we were trained with safety and love as the goal.

What if we were taught to be treated well above all else.

To demand respect from anyone we let in, those we don’t, and mostly ourselves.

"What if?" I think.

What if the priorities for being human.

For having healthy relationships.

What if that was regarded as valuable

the way a degree is

the way a large paycheck is?

How would we treat ourselves then?

How would we treat partners?

What boundaries would we have in place.

What boundaries would we not have to try and figure out how to set 40 years in.

What if we didnt have to start our work on a mountain of trauma and pain and loneliness from the hands and teachings and dynamics that we didnt know how to protect ourselves from.

Money is god to people who want power.

Love is god to people who want peace.

something worse

I tell my best friend that the pain can be kind of nice

because they remind me of how beautiful we were.

She wants to make my pain go away.

So do the 12 other people checking on me daily.

I’ve felt heartbreak before but I know

THIS is different.

This is the kind that I'll taste on my lips the day I die.

The kind that will torture me when I have no choice but to move on.

I know heartbreak

This is not it.

This is something worse.

The slow dismantling of true and honest love

by the refracted shards of our pasts.

leave and keep

im not gonna bring my thoughts with me when I go

so why am i carrying them with me

the unrelenting mean thoughts

they have no purpose

no good will

so fuck it.

no more retaining all the this and that bullshit

no loss whatsoever if I leave them

starve them from their fertile breeding ground

but memories

feelings of love

connection

thats the good shit.

thats what I will invite to stay

to cling to my soul like salt on a wet rim

I want the life

not the thoughts

not the anxieties

I want the fucking life

with the one ive found among the roughly

75 thousand people Ive encountered so far

give or take 10 thousand

and the 10-12 billion souls who ive shared this lifetime with

i found her.

and in no way does or has finding her kept me from anything better

finding her was the goal

assigned at birth

the carrot the universe dangled in front of me

to walk me away from the light

it worked.

and so we work

together and apart

to wade through all the shit others put on us

because they couldnt handle who we really are

so were learning to stop

together and apart

learning to

recognize and prepare

for the life that was always ours

as long as WE can see it.

reminders

speak without trying to convince

feel without trying to change

love without trying to get

work without trying to feel worthy.

coming home

I want you to know.

That tonight, even just for one night, you’re driving home to someone who wants you.

Respects you.

Loves you.

For every bit of the person you really are. Exactly as you are.

I fucking love every part of you, not only the ones that feel good to me.

You’re coming home to open arms

An open heart

And open mind.

You’re coming home to safety.

You’re coming home to desire.

You’re coming home to space to feel and be whatever the fuck you feel and are with zero consequence.

I know that means you’re coming home to someone

and that may always be scary for you.

But don’t forget you’re coming home to me.

And to me, thats what makes life beautiful.

One night at a time.

talking to little me

my love is wildly conditional

beak that down.

how? how is it conditional I ask my adult self

arms folded in front of me

tone of a know it all teen

i say to myself just take a deep breath

she doesnt know what she doesnt know.

you dont have to try and access your love

when theres discomfort - a storm.

just sit. look around

look at that dark sky

listen to the thunder

watch the animals running for shelter.

these are the conditions you work with

they set the tone, you let them infiltrate

its not the partners hand on yours.

no you stay in the storm, disregard the hand

exploit the unwantedness

through me

you dont make the unwanted wanted

but

i have the ability to

i certainly have the desire

so why do you keep me stuck in the storm?

it hurts here.

i dont want to hurt anymore. do you?

she looks at me with the half of her that NEEDS the paon

and i tell her not to speak

I wanna hug her.

let her in on the love and kindness

the safety ive found by letting it in.

but shes not convinced.

shes waiting for the other shoe to drop

while things are going well.

thats her nature

but im here to nurture her.

she has trouble with difficulty

because she lives with the belief that she only can know discomfort

and parts of that may be true.

but whats truer, i tell her is that

she refuses to appreciate

she doesnt revel in the comfort.

so shes stuck

in fresh rounds of suffering.

held captive by herself.

vinny would say:

lower your resistance to reality

so how about we work on that

and forget all the rest?

death rattle

My curiosity is endless it seems

What can I look harder at?

what can i know more of?

How do I become more?

then it hits me

I have to become less.

less judgement

less expectations

less shouldves

couldves

havents cants and will nots.

Become less already

but take your fucking time

nothing changes in the instant

other than your life when death touches it.

perhaps thats why i rush

along with my impulsivity

Ive witnessed the quickness of it

the terror

the finality

the pain

if all you have after death

as long as its not your own

judgement

expectation

the shouldves

couldves

haents cants and will nots

then youre already dead.

before the work is done

im gonna write until I find us.

not the versions of us interacting and responding to each other

under the thumbs of others.

but us. who we are. partners lost and found.

resisting the safety of being found

and welcoming the familiarity of being lost to ourselves.

we all got all this residue.

sticky fingers

a blind eye

half deaf and dumb

you say you love me

but how do i trust that?

im angry at the sound of these keys

for being another thing that isnt her voice.

every time

Every time I think of you

my hands believe youre within reach

they go feeling for you

never convinced of your absence.

all my senses detect you

and just like that you are felt.

brought alive by memory.

kept alive by preference.

I taste you.

smell you.

feel you.

hear you and see you.

all at once.

every time I think of you.

bed time

I sit still

admiring myself for being loved by you

and

proud of myself for being loved by me

and now i say goodnight

to the sweetest day ive ever knows

and tomorrow ill do the same.

preparing

I use different tape to record our memories

its stickier and more durable

so I can get more of us to adhere for longer.

I want out memories to be suspended between

now and then without ever begging them to stay.

honor them.

i protect them

because these have to make it to the end of me with me.

I know ill need them one day.

one day when my brain is withering away with time and

no one's there to recount them for me.

im preparing for when my mind is imprisoned

in the dark alleys of itself

there you'll be to free me.

with that smile that collapses time

and the love that makes it precious.

WE. Not just you. We will be there,

somewhere in there

no matter if/when our time together expired.

all Ill know is that i just have to find the tape

my hope is that when my times up, they all stuck to the tape.

and ill play it over and over, revived by the beauty of you and me.

rope of hope

how do you supress the pain that comes from being abandoned

then hung with the rope of the hope

of "next time"

im asking for closeness, connection

but I get an apology instead.

she pulls from the bag of yesses

but seals it shut when the others get loud enough.

ill abandon her

walk away clean

before ill ever use

the violence and force others use

to keep her close.

and maybe that's the only way Ill be able to love her.

realized

im living the future

they convinced me

that i convinced myself

was impossible.

today

right now.

at this very moment.

coming out

Coming out.

Coming out of what?

Coming out of where?

Good questions.

Coming out of the most paralyzing fear imaginable

fear of the people you care about most in the world not loving you when you do.

it's coming out of a place where the truest parts of yourself have been hiding, unseen.

Coming out is brutal and you have to do it over and over.

Even if they are safe, you are coming out of the darkness

you are letting yourself be seen.

Coming out is the single bravest thing Ive ever done.

How do I quantify that?

remembering the obscene amount of fear I had to fight to do it.

tick tock

Time is fucked up.

Parents watch their little ones turn into adults

and wonder how it went by so fast.

The broken hearted watch their clocks and

pray for the power to make it go faster.

I am broken hearted and childless.

Tick fucking tock universe.

ropes

why cant i tell if

im at the end of my rope

ready to walk away

or if im just terrified

of jumping over to the new rope

the one that wont splinter my palms

or make my fingers bleed?

not done

Im not done.

not even close.

not done listening

flirting.

learning.

failing.

trying.

playing.

experiencing.

respecting.

Im not done falling in love with you.

And I dont think Ill ever be.

a long wait

a long wait.

the slotting in of a soul

like her hand in mine

peace like new

peace never known

and here it is

a consciousness

finally on the same page

safety stripped of governors

priorities nearing alignment

long after the hearts have

no promises

just intention

and thats more than enough

one woman and another

one soul and another

finally mates

after

a long wait.

parts of a whole

my parts make me up

ive had it inside out all these years

i make up my parts, i thought.

but what we think is often what we feel

almost never harnessed by truth

my parts:

sticky

confused

sad

beautiful

denied

sheltered

and

protected.

truth is ME

and my parts have not yet

gotten to know me

but im getting to know them.

slowly introducing myself

one by terrifying one

hi, i say taking their temperature

by consuming the tone of their responses

the rope is tied around the pole

begging to be unteathered

but I dont know how to help just yet

i introduce myself again. and again.

a response comes

suspicious of me this part isnt eager to talk

how old are you?, i ask.

they dont want to say.

i tell them they are safe.

i show them that ill wait, just be here when theyre ready.

i try to act less interested in knowing them

than i am.

thats a familiar tactic, i realize to myself

about myself.

pretend not to care as much as I do.

as i am distracted with that thought

they speak and I can finally gender her.

she is 9

I know this part now

i have no more questions

I will sit with her

I will hold her.

and she will decide whether we talk more.

conditioned / reconditioned

these rejected

abandoned parts of me

they mistake themselves for Condo

painting every interaction

so its up to me to lead.

to pull us from the hell

of habit

to try something new.

im asking myself

how am i getting all the things I want

and how have i been painting them to look differently

to feed the habits.

to feed the fear.

i choose to see the truth

home

You smell like home.

not the home i grew up in

or the one i live in now.

but the home inside yourself that you cant know exists until

your loved for all the right reasons

at the right time

by the right person.

your hands are so loving

and gentle

laced with pure acceptance

it's overwhelming.

it puts a lump in my throat.

I love you for so many reasons.

in so many ways.

thank you for walking me home.

frenzied

I was in a frenzy.

hungry for hurt.

hungry for familiar

and fuck me if I didnt chip my tooth on my past.

I wanted to punish someone.

I wont punish her. I love her and shes done nothing wrong.

I cant punish him, he wouldnt give a shit anyway.

I cant punish them, they created her masterpiece.

so with that chipped tooth -

the only weapon I had on hand -

I bit down hard and with purpose to hurt. to punish.

The bright red blood leaked from my bottom lip

like a dopeheads drool after a good fix.

The taste of blood is what I needed.

it was what i was hungry for.

these fucking tears are clear.

theyre useless.

I need to see and taste the color of my rage.

I had to see the color of my pain.

because what could be more unfair than

what that woman is going through?

death I suppose. but with death comes refuge.

with death comes peace.

She had neither and I wanted to give her both.

I wanted the blood coming from my lip to drip

drip

drip.

you wanna know rage

well this is it.

remember tonight

Lets remember tonight.

that we have crushes on one another.

that tomorrow may not come.

that what we have being to being is rare.

that weve waited 40 years to love well.

to be loved well.

that

were trying

that we fail all the time

that we always try to fail forward

lets remember we dont punish one another for failing.

lets remember tongiht

that were not everything to one another

but were the one thing we choose

every day.

coffee cup

last night i forgot to put her coffee cup out

this morning I woke up mad at myself for it.

because theres nothing I want more

than her going to sleep knowing

she's already been thought of tomorrow.

covered up

I wanna buy a house with her

somewhere in the middle of nowhere

a house whos beautys been covered up

by people who couldnt see it.

A house that needs us to help it be

what it was always meant to be.

It will need us because we will understand

what its like to get out from under the mess

people make of you when

they can not accept you for who you are.

her bare feet

Her bare feet hit the hardwood floor

and all I can think about

is getting them warm.

preemie

Thank goddess i was born.

now i understand my impatience to get here.

earthbound.

she was already here.

that's why i fought so hard to live.

beat the odds.

I had to have known that you were here.

waiting for me.

and thats why I couldnt wait to get here.

just write

Write your book.

take your time.

take back your time.

youre magic.

write yourself down.

read it back.

give yourself the chance

to see what I see.

and what I see is

magic.

Timing

eleven years of wait.

eleven years of chasing a ghost.

and within 24 hours of giving up the ghost

she found me.

timing perfect for us.

not so much for others.

but there it is.

the story as old as time.

timing couldve destroted us.

but became the test, measurement, obstacle and the gift.

its not what happened to us that matters

its that we happened at all.

told

youre not that kind of girl.

thats what she was told

its what I was told too.

a million different times

in a thousand different ways.

So here we are.

trying to be out own kind of girls

trying not to be lured too far into

the rebellious opposite direction

that we cant find our nature.

trying to love one another without conditions

but all weve known of love are conditions

all i know is if she becomes my wife

she will spend our wedding shoe-less

and I will love her condition-less

because shes that kind of girl

and so am I.

we just couldnt full know ourselves

until we fell in love.

thirst

why is it I get thirsty

only when i realize

that the ice has to melt

in order for me to drink it.

this and that

Hard doesnt mean impossible

mistakes dont mean persecution

differences dont separation

past doesnt mean future

sadness doesnt mean heartbreak

partnership doesnt mean distance

expectation doesnt mean disappointment

self love doesnt mean selfishness

hard makes it all worth it

mistakes make the lessons memorable

differences make appreciation possible

past makes the future more beautiful

sadness hurts less

partnership means trust

expectation means faith

self love means forgiveness