Poetry

 

up on the greenest hill stands our clothing line;

our clothes together, being blown by the crisp, fresh wind of the country.

as I take down each piece of clothing, the earth is filled with the scent of your plain white tee.

the one you wear often when I sit close to you; the one I occasionally steal when you’re not looking.

though quite simple and a bit frayed, I love to see you wear it.

Your cologne has painted the threads of your white tee.

I remove the wooden clothespins, close my eyes, and breathe in.

a smile grows on my face by a simple white tee.

people say she’s beautiful all the time; when she goes home, she walks over to the mirror to find what they see in her. is it the shine of her eyes or the tone of her skin? is it the way she smiles, or the shape of her face? she looks for the beauty they […]

Continue Reading

deep intimate companionship is what I seek, for someone to look into my eyes and see through me. one who can be a bowl for which I can pour my soul; and one whom I will let hold when I am feeling cold. who will know me beyond the shallows that I show? who will […]

Continue Reading

I am not memorabilia. You can not keep bits and pieces of me. I will not have my treasures scattered about the earth and oceans. the only memory you will have is when I say goodbye.

Continue Reading