maybe, perhaps //

i lose myself in the ones i love.
i (still) lose myself in the ones i've lost,
only to find
(and lose)
 myself all over again.

i once thought this was a good thing.
a journey, a discovery, a series of realizations.

maybe once, it was - perhaps.

i have been hurt once to often
to think so anymore.

> > >

"you love with everything you are"
he told me, and lately,
i have realized that it's true.
i am an ocean of emotion; a
hurricane of the ones i love most,
a collage of those i wish
could learn to love me;
a broken mirror, reflecting their own
selfish understanding of love back
to them, while my own
burns and burns and burns,
a smoke screen,
a fire that smoulders,
and, eventually,
dies -

because even a forest fire fades
when there is nothing left to
keep it alive.

i am a hurricane of ice and fire;
a contradiction held together
with trembling fingers and
fragmented "somedays".

and maybe, perhaps
this is the problem;
i have always found myself
in the ones i love,
but i cannot keep from
getting lost there too.

(i have always found myself
in the ones i love, yes -
so why do they never
find anything in me?)

> > >

my love is a winter storm;
ferocious and deadly -
or so they say.
i have learned that the cold 
rarely kills anything
that love has touched;

winter, however, always dies;
a memory of ice that fades
with the fire of the awakening sun.

there are those, perhaps, who
love snow while it lingers --
but they always look past it,
holding their breath,
waiting for spring.

i have grown used to it.
nobody longs for winter to stay.
it is simply the way

> > >

they say soulmates are the ones
we simply fall in with.
elbows rubbing at the table,
conversations that hold
no spoken words.
the ones you feel at home with,
the people whose hearts you have come to
acknowledge as a place of safety,
the ones you can whisper your deepest
fears to, and expect them to care
enough to simply s t a y. 

(it's true: nothing frightens people
away more quickly than
the acknowledgement
of fear in another being that is
just as human as they are.)

> > >

i (am; have always been)
a second thought;
the one in the background,
loving and loving and loving,
yet unable to voice the words
that are tearing me apart.
i am vessel of emotion and love
and passion that even the bones
that form me cannot contain.

what i feel is too powerful for words,
and too fragile for anything else,
less i lose myself (again) in
the ones my heart has loved.

let me say this -
let me understand -

it is not enough to love someone.
it is not enough to love someone.
it is not enough to love someone. 

whether we know it or not,
despite the fears we hold onto,
we all desire to be loved in return.

they say that
those who are heartless once
cared too much -

but maybe, perhaps,
it is the other way around -

maybe, just maybe,
the ones they loved
simply cared too little.


it's strange how my own heart bleeds into fiction; sometimes i don't know if it's a character i've made up that i'm writing about - or myself. but then, i suppose every character we create is a part of us in some way, just as the ones we mold them after are. xx


what we remember //

do you remember 
the days when our words
would flow like wine from
our lips, 
gentle and
past and
lost in the hours between
sunset and sunrise
when all i knew 
was the warmth of
your arms around me
and the cold beauty 
of the spring stars;

when i would watch the 
shape your face took
when you laughed, 
or the way your eyes smiled
when they settled on me,
mesmerized by a face
that you knew as you knew
your own?

there is distance between 
us now -
distance that no memory
or apology can erase, because
time itself pulled us apart,
and i am no longer the one
you once loved. 

i don't remember the curl of
your lip when you would speak,
or the warmth in your
voice anymore - 
i don't remember the
highlights in your eyes,
fire and ice intertwined
in their depths, 
ribbons of color 
and shadows.

what i do remember are
the little things, like
the way you made me feel;
the warmth of your breath
on my cheek, your lips
brushing my ear,
the safety of your arms.

what i remember is, perhaps,
as small and 
as i proved to be -

but people forget many things -

dates and places and names
and even faces of the
ones they love(d); 

but they never forget
the one who showed them
how to love the space 
they fill;
they never forget
the one who 
first made them
feel like they

//   //   // 

a spontaneous explosion of words - unedited, posted "as is". i'm not entirely happy with this, but this is what my heart said, so i told my brain to shut up and go with it. ;) it feels good to be blogging (semi)regularly again. i've missed this. 



recently //

"don't let go of your dreams simply because someone says it can't be done." 

it's so, so easy to give up; to let go of things when it becomes hard to hold onto them; we relinquish the sky for security, and hope and wonder and adventure for certainty. words sway us, doubts cripple us, hard work dissuades us, life tells us what we must do to survive, and we listen. we're human; survival is ingrained in our bones, an unconscious decision that becomes deliberate action. 

dreams aren't always handed to us, it's true. some people fight their whole lives for something they never achieve. artists. writers. painters. musicians. inventors. dreamers; the ones who shatter stereotypes and break down closed doors. 

but perhaps the ones who are not only known but loved for their works aren't famous or bathed in luxury; their names aren't on headlines, they may never be considered successful by those who weigh success on the scale of material belongings. their following may only be the few dreamers that stumble across them and feel their hearts leap in their chests; the ones who realize that true greatness and success comes from courageous hope, unwavering dedication and the determination to never, ever give up. // 

a few honest words via my insta, and snapshots from my April / May trip to Ohio // more coming soon


"i love(d) you" // poetry

the first time i told you,
i thought you didn't hear -
although my voice was steady,
perhaps my words weren't clear.

the second time i told you,
the sky was cold and gray,
a gust of wind caught my words,
while you were looking away.

the third time i told you,
we were in the midst of a crowd -
i whispered it in your ear,
but your own voice was too loud.

the fourth time i told you,
it was spoken under my breath,
i thought my words were loud enough,
but then you turned and left.

the last time i told you,
it was i who walked away -
for words are simply words
if they cannot make you stay.

(a few iPhone snapshots from my recent trip to Ohio - more pictures from that journey coming soon - and some stubborn lines of poetry that wouldn't leave me alone. xo)