A sliver of me

you stood on the corner

a little sliver of me

a little piece of the trees

there was sunshine and you

were the whole of my heart

disappearing into the slant of sunlight

where I couldn’t see you.

I craned my neck, looking back for you.

And you didn’t notice

but as I turned my back to approach the sunlight,

my heart disappeared when you did.

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Holding Your Place

In retrospect it all seemed glossier

Rose faded colored glasses and the tint of sienna haze that formed whenever you said goodbye –

The glow in your warm center and your laughter

your laughter

Holding hands walking up the dark stairwell the petals

trailed behind us and blew away with the wind

They got swept up in the whirlwind and disappeared into the sunlight.

I could see those little specks of light trickling through the dusty corridor whenever I came home,

And the dust would form a shape just like you used to

They were holding your place.

The Warm Hours

  When the warm hours rust over and slowly turn to the steely sounds of rushing and of cold and water droplets leaking from dusty pipes
I will remember the nights we sat on my old apartment floor reminiscing and pressing our toes together to show that we understood.
I will remember the beach and the way that sand carried through the wind and how your laughter echoed across the paths of gulls as she ran out to play.
I will think upon those days of light footed exploration where foggy ponds became magical landscapes
Where we ran through the docks head on into our futures.
I will remember the way you laughed as you skipped gingerly across those mossy rocks. You always had a way of making everything worthy of a smile.
And I will remember all the nights you called me and told me, “Honey, everything will be alright.”
– It will be alright
just so long as you will always be my happy conversation
The one who forgets to put the chicken in the freezer
But that has never stopped me from loving you –
– it never has-
It has only ever made me love you more.

The Girl I Remember

Sometimes I forget who she is.
The girl who loved “Moon River,” the girl who dreamed without daring
Sometimes I forget who she is.
The piano player, the flower picker, the one who always buys way too many cinnamon brooms
come Autumn.
The smiler, the feeler, the midnight dancer
The one who knows that sometimes the best remedy to a rough day is a candle, some Norah Jones, and
someone warm to lay next to
The rainy day dreamer, the walk taker, the nail painting optimist
The night-time romantic
The lover, tea drinker
The “sometimes I need you”

— I have been trying for so long to be so strong. But more than anything, the girl I really am just wants to wake up to the warmth of your arms around her, say “good morning” and smile, knowing I’ll be next to you every morning from now on.