Love

If I could…

If I could write about you, how many words would it take?
How long would I need to find the right sound for your quiet?
Or the right verb for your hair?
How many twists and turns will my tongue make so I can speak of the grace your limbs accentuate?

The rock and the rain.

1.

The rock could feel simple sensations like heat from the sun and water from the rain. It…

I flew…

I flew today.

Straight into the sun and at the heart of it I saw fiery jewels, and I reached out, took a hold of one…

Of the Many Yous

What if every time I wrote about you another you was born? A you sketched from the lettered prose of my wants and dreams; each…

If I reach…

If I reach will I touch?

and if I touch, will I feel?

A moment

I want to take a moment and hold that moment for only a second; tell her it’s okay to breathe, and in that moment of the moment she’s in, we…

I miss you.

When someone says “I miss you,” it’s interesting to break down the phrase:

To say it to someone implies an audience. You are telling the person you miss that you are missing them in the present tense.

Exhale

Autumn exhales, a cool breeze whistling through branches; children at play, quiet feet paddling on dried leaves to make way for a gentle death — a sleep of the summer heat.

I hold your hand to hide from the cold. The same hand raised that night, when snowflakes gathered and watched from…

Introduction: Hello world, I’m here.

Hello! Hi! How are you? I’m fine. I’m alive! I’m great! I’m laughing — 
not crying,
I’ve got a smile on my face; you see, I am born today — right here, caught in this moment. 

Beautiful.

It’s beautiful. All of it is. You are. He is. She is. They are. Everyone. An…