I See What Was | A poem

From the street,
In the window
Of an old home:

Will You Go Out With Me? | A poem

It is a heart-pounding question
I ask
In the middle of the day
Just because
I think
Of you.

Darling Darlene | A poem

Darlene, stay with me.
Here in our past
We will never grow old.

Sweet | A poem

He looked at her like her eyes were the moon -
And, oh, how he loved the nighttime.
He spoke to her like she could never do wrong -
And, oh, there was no one to change that.
He pet her hair like she was the last thing he'd touch -
And, oh, what a treasure that was.

She looked at him like her eyes were the moon -
And for once someone wanted the nighttime.
She listened to him like she could never do wrong -
And she believed all the sweet words he read.
She leaned into his hand like he was the last one who'd touch her -
And she said she was all right with that.

Is it sweet?
Like honey.

Prompt Series, #2 | the silence that won't go away + "Say it."

Silence. Silence. Silence that won't go away. There's no noise at all. Hasn't been. Not for years, it felt like.

She remembers what noise used to be: car horns out the window; birds on the telephone wire; children in the playground across the street; coffee machine's beeps; turning of newspaper or magazine pages; front door opens - pause - I love you before the door clicks shut.

I hurt for this country | A response

The sadness and disappointment today was tangible. I have lost all faith in this country as a people; you have voted for a man who has stolen the safety of so many. My heart hurts. I hurt for my safety as a woman. I hurt for my friends' safety as POC, women, LGBTQIA+, etc. and all combinations. I hurt as a woman who has so much acceptance and peace and love in her heart; I feel crushed by the men who now represent America.
 

I want everyone who now fears for their future to know that I will be here. To cry with you. To hold your hand. To make sure you know you are not alone.
 

We are about to enter a four-year period of hatred. If we make it out of that, we can make it out of anything. I may have lost my faith in the American people, but I will not lose my faith in love. I will not lose my belief that peace and love is the right path. If anything, we must love harder - out of spite.

I have an obligation to respect the title of the presidency and vice-presidency. But I do not respect these men as individuals.

it is alive | A poem

the creator shouts,
my God. it is alive,
as the creature rises
to move and breathe,
seamlessly.

there are no imperfections on satin skin.
the rips and tears and broken threads
of the long years and savored moments -
of wear and tear, of sleep and love -
are the threads i love the most,
are the threads that make skin human.