the finest man.

we lie in your bed
with nothing but linen
and the exposed embodiment
of beauty and pleasure.
i roll over on my side
and my breasts gently fall onto your body,
stroking your desire
and craving for devotion.
you don’t look at me and i don’t look at you.
we breathe.
and i collect all your breaths
in the depths of my existence.


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.


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.


dating: a synopsis by a jaded millennial


i haven’t been in a real relationship since 2011. it’s now 2016. by “real relationship” i mean, i haven’t been with someone who i was eager to introduce to my family and friends, or someone who i cared to make plans with months in advance, or someone who i simply wouldn’t mind being around when they are sick (real talk, if i am endangering my health to bring ya ass some chicken noodle soup and benadryl, i’m whipped (also, do people still say “whipped”?)).

i lived in tampa all of 2015 and into 2016. while i was there i kinda found myself a boo thang. he was a cool fella. the thing is, we literally had nothing in common. i’m a feminist democrat, he’s a comfortable semi-conservative republican. i love beer, he loves long islands. i like to go for walks in the city while the sun is setting, he likes to walk to the library before sunrise. we were literally polar opposites. what bonded us together was our mutual hate for tampa and our burning desire to move to the big apple (i am now in NYC, he is now in buffalo. we could never win).

fast forward to today, to me living in new york city, the land of opportunity, the extraordinary city where every good rom-com takes place. the site where harry fell in love with sally and where i’m supposed to meet my special somebody.

speaking of which, i recently met a special somebody. he was amazing. the first thing i noticed about him were his eyes. his beautiful brown eyes glow in the dark, even in the darkest bars of west village. and his smile? his smile is what holds the moon in place. he was so affectionate and caring, and hands down the easiest person to talk to since i’ve moved away from my college friends. he’s a doctor, he’s a good kisser, and he cares about his family. but for some reason i am terrified of forming feelings for him. i’m afraid to send the first text message because i don’t want to come off as needy, and i’m afraid to offer to make plans because what if he doesn’t want to see me again?

i am so jaded from dating that the simple thought of me going on a date leaves me with a headache (likely from gin or red wine) and i get so stressed that i think my body hair starts to grow at a faster rate when i match on tinder and bumble as a natural form of birth control. i’m a confident woman. i have no problem going up to my person of interest at the bar and buying him a drink. i am surrounded by people who love and support me, i am ambitious as hell, and i have a really nice ass. but when it comes to dating…you know how in the fall when you are raking up all the leaves into a pile, but then the wind starts to blow and messes up your pile? well, that’s my dating life.


fine wine.


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.