gravity.

falling blindly with no resistance.

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the kindest one.

an unopened bottle of champagne sits on the floor near my bedroom door.
we lie in bed weak from martinis and whiskey
and he reaches over and says “good morning sweetheart”.
my succulent plants can no longer face the cold temps of my winter new york bedroom
and my once white rug is now a grey blur.
his beard tickles my neck as i listen to my neighbor’s heels clap on the floor above.
for a split second i can see clouds surround our bodies.
gravity is a lost concept and i’ve never felt so high and so sober in one moment.
i am being held by the kindest man known to mankind,
and in this hour i’m not fretting about when i will see him next
or if he likes me back.
rather, my mind is serene and my body is still
and all of me feels pleasant.

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fine wine.

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as i get older, things change.

my stepdad was mentally and emotionally abusive growing up.
now, i see his desperate yearning to be a better person.
the sun hiding behind the clouds
wanting to break the horizon.
he is too proud to apologize for the damage he’s caused me,
but he no longer needs to.
he is a better father to my brother and sister
and i couldn’t ask for a better apology than that.

as i get older, feelings change.

my dads mom, i call her “gammy”.
i never had a true relationship with her when i was young.
my dad would force me to visit her sometimes
and i always dreaded it.
but i must say,
stopping by her house to have breakfast with her
on my way down to florida was one of the most valuable
mornings of my life.
i gained a new, unexplainable appreciation for her.
i was sad to leave her.
my moms biological mother,
she never really knew me growing up.
she would get all her grandkids ornaments every christmas.
when i was 18 she got me a ballerina ornament thinking that i danced.
i hadn’t danced in 11 years.
i went to go visit her one thanksgiving.
we spent thanksgiving just her and i.
it was the most enchanting thanksgiving.
we cooked all the foods,
and i love food, especially thanksgiving food.
we also made the most delicious hot chocolate
and talked about why she wasn’t there for
my mom and aunts and uncles when they were young.
she told me her own mother never told her
she loved her until she was 31 years old.
that’s when i realized life will throw some real fucked up curveballs
and you will have no clue how to hit them.
when you bring life into this world,
you have to do what’s best for that life,
even if it tears your heart and soul out.
so maybe she did the right thing.

as i get older, actions change.

my most prized possessions are no longer
a build-a-bear from the boyfriend of the season
or a necklace from tiffany’s,
rather they are the crocheted blankets that my grandmother
spent hours upon hours making for me for my graduation.
my pen pal is no longer a stranger from tinder
or my crush of a coworker,
but rather my great aunt,
who’s cursive always tilts to the west
and remembers my birthday without a facebook reminder.

as i get older,
i am starting to become a woman i never thought i’d be
in the best way possible.
i am wanting to rekindle old flames with friends who’ve lost matches
and send postcards to people i’ve only just met.

and i’m only 23.
i’ve got my whole life ahead of me.

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the suave stranger.

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i reached into a box.
writer’s block hit me hard
until i reached
into that box.
blind.
a blind mother touching
her newborn for the first time.
briefly thinking about the future
then promptly realizing the beauty of now.
clueless about intentions.
clueless with questions.
we have no connection.
but here we are.
my hand in the box,
i feel around for a notion of man.
but nothing was there.

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nirvana.

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the rain reminds me of you,
and of us,
and how we didn’t mind.
and if we could wear our heart on our sleeves, you would need a really big sleeve.
the heart sets the beat for the mind and soul to dance.
i want you to talk for hours until i’m as silent as the stars
and in the twinkling of your eyes, i see a man i want to give my heart freely.
a voice so gentle, angels come to you for worship.
and your breath on my neck sent a spell throughout my body
as i composed myself like a wild symphony.
i believe in declarative passion roared in the rain
and i believe in mad desire under the brazen sunrise.
did you know that there is a line in your skin from smiling, which is an actual replica of heaven’s horizon?
in the middle of the night i hope you’re dreaming of something nice.
kiss me forever in all kinds of weather.
i hope to someday be the reason for you to fill a blank canvas with everything you’ve ever felt.
you said “i wonder how many times we’ve kissed by now”
and i remember thinking
“i want to kiss you until the waves stop kissing the shoreline”
…forever
forevermore, a sunset will remind me of your smile.
bliss is sitting under a maple tree and reading to you at leisure.
and you were just sitting there talking,
and it was the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.
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something about a boy.

when i hear your name, i can’t help but to think of palm trees taking a liking to the wind,
swaying drunkenly to the beat of the heat of the sun.

and for some reason i always feel like tickling you.
yes, tickling you.
if i were to tickle you, it would allow me to touch you
while conceiving a combustion of sound waves that could make a prisoner feel free,
a poor man feel rich, the dead feel life.
a smile more perfect than a crescent moon
and a laugh so gentle that your very breath could create a house of cards
and soothe the winds of a hurricane.

if we ever kiss, i would imagine that you would grab my body gently
as if not to assert your masculinity too strongly,
and your virility and my femininity would create a third grade science experiment,
a tornado in a bottle,
a volcano on the table.

there is something about you that i take delight in.
you make me nervous.
really nervous.
and you make me hot.
really hot.

and it was a pleasure to meet you.

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