via Loophole

If I could find a loophole,

any loophole really,

that would allow me to kiss someone through a telephone,

wouldn’t that be grand?

If I could find a way to transfer intimacy like a text message,

wouldn’t it make the world feel a little less lonely?

Sick Days

via Study

It is hard to be

So sick and yet studious,

I try to tell them.

But they do not care

For my so-called excuses,

So I stay quiet.

My sick days are not

Relaxed or restful at all,

Because I worry.

What if they ask me,

“What proof do you have of this

So-called pain of yours?”

My illness is shy,

It does not like to be seen

By anyone else.

So I am left with

An illness you cannot see,

And no evidence.

My sick days, they are

more stressful than peaceful, now

All days are the same.


You are supposed to make my views on the world clearer, and yet.

Here I am.

Unsure about so many things.

So why bother with you?

Perhaps so you can make me see my mistakes, but even then.

There seems to be a lag, and I never catch on until it’s too late. 

But fine.

I’ll accept you.

Only because you allow me the beauty of seeing individual leaves on trees,

and the petals on flowers.

You let me see the clouds as they dance across the sky.

That will have to be enough.

The Companion Pt. II

The next time Giovanni was in the library he looked for the man, looked between the book stacks and checking the cubicles used by the occasional student to study. Looked for the curly dark hair and round tortoiseshell glasses that he only vaguely remembered, most of his attention having been fixed on the man’s hands. He found him in a far corner of the library.

Tucked away between the historical nonfiction and autobiographies, the dark hue books complimenting his honey-colored skin, he was running his slender fingers over the books as if they were old friends. It took Giovanni five whole minutes after seeing that strangely beautiful sight to work up the nerve to enter the same aisle. The man looked at him for a moment but said nothing. Another five minutes and Giovanni turned to him and uttered a very quiet, even shaky, “Hello.” The man simply stared at him with the same intense focus as before as he nodded. No return hello, no smile, no change in his placid expression on his subtly handsome face. Just a slight curiosity in the depths of his eyes.

But it was enough for Giovanni.

Giovanni went through a process every time they met in the library. They would meet in their corner, hidden away in their leather chairs angled just so until they could both see each other when they looked up from their books. The scent of honeysuckle drifting through the slightly cracked window along with the late evening sun.

They would spend hours in comfortable silence, reading, getting lost in their own little worlds. Occasionally they would speak in hushed tones, only a few words here and there about their readings, respectful of the library’s quiet.

But before all of this was his battle to get a greeting out.

Taking his time to calm his nerves enough to manage a hello. Maybe a few sentences on a good day asking how he’d been and what he was reading. And the man, who on their sixth meeting Giovanni had been counting revealed his name was Henry, would more often than not stay silent, reserved, and simply listen. When he did speak, Henry’s voice was low and his words were slow coming. He seemed to measure every word before he spoke. Giovanni liked his thoughtfulness.

He treasured Henry’s rare words.

He tucked them away, deep in his mind where they would be safe. He poured over them again and again when he lay in bed at night. Thinking of Henry.

The dark made Henry’s words seem to glow in the moonlight streaming through Giovanni’s windows.




via Static

IMG_20180113_080625There’s snow everywhere today.

The campus is covered in it, and if you’re awake early enough you can hear absolutely nothing. No birds, no people, nothing.

Just snow and silence.

The whole world seems to be static, stuck in one precise, elongated moment.

It’s why winter is my favorite season of the year.

Time seems almost liminal in winter. Like it’s decided to take a break from its stately march and wants to waltz instead.

I was born in this season, on the darkest day of the year.

I guess my mother was right, I am a winter baby.

What would it be like to be the child of a season?

The Coffee Shop Pt. V (Final)

via Evoke

There once were two men who sat at the same table in a coffee shop every morning.

7:15 to be exact.

The sweet and soft love they evoked in each other had grown over months and months of a routine that allowed them to get to know each other. They had taken their time, slowly learning the nuances of each other’s personalities. Finding ways to compromise their differences and ways to be happy together

They laughed at little inside jokes, and the gentle, fond teasing spoke of a comfort with each other that they couldn’t hide.

If the barista asked, “What would you like today?”

The small man in glasses could respond, “The same as always but with more closeness,” or “My regular and nothing else.” They had a system set up to navigate the man’s boundaries.

And it worked.

Some days they held hands across the table and relished in the small but cherished contact. Some days they each stayed on their own side of the table and yet the love between them was still as evident.

Those who went to the coffee shop found the couple adorable and the old women would whisper and giggle to themselves as they watched on. The younger men ignored the couple unless it was to watch on enviously, wishing they could have a partner to love them as much as the couple obviously loved each other.

The couple, as it turns out, ignored them all.

They only had eyes for each other.

Because after all, they were in their own little corner of the coffee shop, their own world where the only other person that seemed to exist was the person they loved.

What to say

via Carve


Why is it when there are all these words

carved into my brain after hours of thinking

overthinking, then thinking some more

that I never know what to say?

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