that sunday night.

we smoked on a sunday night.
and that is when i felt
with all of my heart
some of the most precious emotions i’ve ever experienced.
you were in my arms as we laid on the couch.
netflix was on in the background
and your kitchen light and a solo lamp in the corner set the mood for all.
our foreheads and noses were touching
as you were falling into my soul,
the way that waves fall back into the ocean after gently grazing the untouched sands and imperfect castles of strangers nearby.
i could tell that you were smiling by the dimple below your left eye.
whole conversations were whispered
like two middle schoolers who were on the phone past curfew.
your eyes never broke away from me but for a blink,
and even so,
you rushed back from your flutter to put your gaze right back on me.
“what is this that we are feeling?” you whispered as our faces still touching, never rupturing our union.
my lips stayed silent in fear of saying a four letter word only meant for lovers.
now as i think back and try to figure out that feeling of intimacy that we felt on that sunday night,
i’m realizing that there isn’t a single word to describe that feeling, darling.
but i can tell you that it was a mixture of love and sadness and passion.

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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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today is the day.

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today
i am going to walk into the shores of lake michigan
until my body is submerged in the crystal blue glacial waters.
let my nose meet the brim of the waves.
i am going to skip class and lie in a hammock to read a book of my choice and make myself a five course meal.
today
i am going to climb my grandparents tree to pick berries for my uncooked pie. 
i am going to paint with the colors of the leaves.
i am going to lie down and look at the clouds,
fantasize falling out of the heavens into silky sunflowers.
today
i am going to take pictures of strangers.
the beautiful absence of words that formulate stories.
a picture speaking a thousand words, of mystery, of expertise.
today
i am going to write a creation of life and of passion,
of thanksgiving and of time.
today
i am going to live my life with no regrets, no what-ifs.
i am going to let happiness be the anchor of my soul and Love the boat that it sails.
today
is the day.

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