Someone like me, a writer perhaps, has only a finite amount of energy to expend on others. We are born weary. Our souls are old, our touch is worn, our needs ancient.
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September 28, 2014

They’re easy, these families on the lake, laughing and holding hands. They’re not put off by the creeping cloud coverage, and inconvenience of the first droplets of impending rain. Read the rest of this entry »

take the last one alone.

January 23, 2014

It always comes down to the photographs.
This isn’t working out, we need to talk, I can’t do this anymore and it’s not you, it’s me. You learn that loving someone does not make them love you and they certainly won’t love you in the ways in which you’re looking for it.

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…you’ll come home to find there’s nothing to do. You’ll walk into your apartment and realize there’s no bowls that need filling, nor blankets to re-stuff, or messes to clean up or doggy diapers to change; there’s no whining, or jumping, barking or demanding and your apartment will be peaceful. And it will feel more empty than you could have ever imagined. Read the rest of this entry »

my immortal.

September 12, 2013

To love someone is to die repeatedly in their presence, to survive a thousand small deaths by their side.

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She strums her fingers on the strings, an absent-minded melody, too simple to be anything. Rum and ginger ale, perspires and pales on the stairwell beside her. Read the rest of this entry »

A few times in a lifetime, you meet someone who was born carrying a part of you inside themselves. Read the rest of this entry »

he is a lighthouse.

June 25, 2013

He is a lighthouse, weathered, solid, sun-bleached. Sometimes I think if I could just get through to him, he may see his own light. Read the rest of this entry »

Look at me; side-eye my filth.

I wear it proudly. Read the rest of this entry »

for i’m one of them.

March 15, 2013

Sometimes, people think about dying, and I think that’s okay. It’s not scary, sick, or melodramatic as others try to make it seem. What it is, is people are wired to be afraid of the unknown – a new place, an unfamiliar haircut, a diagnosis. Read the rest of this entry »

What happened was, you got it all too young, see.

You thought that was how life was supposed to go, you know, save up some cash and fill up a few trunks full of quilts and cutlery. Read the rest of this entry »

choose to love them.

January 25, 2013

Choose to love them.

Even if he wants to forget everything you ever shared together, since you shared ten years but could not share a future.
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full-bodied, soul weary.

December 23, 2012

There’s a weakness that comes from words. A full-bodied, soul weary weakness.
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something about 365 days.

October 9, 2012

Not quite a year is somehow and illogically easier to stomach than a year ago. There’s something about 365 days in passing that feels like finality, feels like no turning back. Read the rest of this entry »


September 7, 2012

A blue moon, instead, casts a shadow on the back half of the land and life. Silhouetted tree tops writhe, reach and stretch for Him, rooted to their eternal mosh pits. They are too sparse to revolt, too many to free. Read the rest of this entry »

from some great height.

July 25, 2012

It’s called heartache, but everything aches. Like falling from some great height and every fiber of your being, every enzyme and protein bruised and shocked from the impact begins howling, Read the rest of this entry »

stray lower.

July 14, 2012

He runs his puckered lips along the painted blue feathers, lingering there, breathing slow and heavy.

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July 2, 2012

The funeral procession left the lot, one by despairing one. Wails of misery still echoed between the oak trees. Everyone grieves differently. Read the rest of this entry »


June 20, 2012

He always finds someone to talk to. This doesn’t surprise me. Any man I’ve ever wanted carried the need to express himself to anyone who would listen,

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There’s a man-made, disappointing irony in this.

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