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.


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.


the forbidden fruit.

there’s fluttering electricity pulsing in the space between nearing mouths about to kiss.
that’s not all that’s pulsing.
sin so delicious the angels want to taste it.
i love all your scars, i’ll kiss every one.
it’s what makes you
let me kiss the ones i can’t see.
you are the spark that ignited my pulse.
show me yours, i’ll show you mine.
you look at my body as if this is ninth grade geometry class all over again.
stars touching my window
and your tongue doing funny things.
can you feel the pulsing?
i only kiss after the clock strikes midnight
but my mind is always in another timezone anyways.
your fingers buried deep as if you are searching the four corners of the earth for a lost memory of my warmth.
ohhh, the pulsing.
the only thing separating you and i are the vibrations of intricate noises and breaths of used air that we happily share.
butterflies take over my being as i fly to mount olympus, el dorado, atlantis, the garden of eden.
thank god for the forbidden fruit.