Thursday, June 30, 2016

You Need Me

You can't touch me through my picture
Can't kiss me through the phone
You can't make love through a letter,
Dear, you need me in your arms

Tell me all your words,
sing me all your songs,
oh, but my sweet darling,
you still need me in your arms

Your touch is so far away,
your kiss drifting on the breeze,
you keep longing from a distance
but you need me in your arms

Friday, June 24, 2016

True Love

I have sometimes loved
fully and deeply
and sometimes truly,
with great honesty
and sometimes with worlds of deceit.

I have given of myself
body, mind, heart, & soul
to both the sometimes worthy
and the sometimes unworthy--
sometimes both in one person.

Yet now I love,
though selfishly
and wisely,
I keep my love to myself
and bask in the truest love
I have ever known
in my life,
glowing from the inside out
incandescently happy
and brimming with joy

Sunday, June 12, 2016


Ambivalence is not weakness.
It is not flip flopping
or wishy washy.
It is not indecisive.

Ambivalence is a battle
of epic proportions
with great casualties
suffered on both sides;
each general scheming,
planning his best advance,
plotting move and countermove,
when to surge forward,
and when to retreat.

It is an ongoing fight,
often to the death,
between great and noble opponents.
A fight of honor,
and of dignity.

Monday, June 6, 2016

Don't You Dare

Do not love me.
Do not count the ways
Do not sigh
Do not swoon
Do not pine.

Do not memorize
my freckles
The curve of my smile
The lilt of my laughter
The cadence of my voice

Do not wait anxiously
for my call
For my text
For my pic

Do not plan to be with me
This weekend
Next weekend
Next month

Do not listen to the radio
And, hearing a love song,
Think about the so-called

You be you
I’ll be me
And we shall
Each of us
Be content.

Thursday, June 2, 2016

Flash Fiction: One Hell of a Hangover

I rolled over in my bed, dragging a lump of covers with me as I began to emerge from sleep. The pounding in my head was only exacerbated by the light filtering through my so called black out curtains. Black out, my ass. The room was a filtered shade of brown at best as the sun rose on what others would call a "lovely morning." Others who hadn't been shooting tequila the night before.
The groan that escaped my lips seemed to emanate from my entire body, as if every cell was bemoaning the amount of liquor I'd consumed hours before. Mind and body were united in the determination that I made a terrible mistake in judgement and would never do that again. Well. Probably. Not for a while. At least not until the next weekend.
One part of my body began protesting louder than the others, and I was both delighted and surprised to find it wasn't my stomach or my head. Not to worry, I was sure they would each voice their concerns in their own time and in their own ways, but for now, it was the bladder that was calling for attention. Immediately. I had never felt so grateful for my unsuccessful search for a roommate. The rent might be crippling, but the bathroom was always free, and I never had to worry about my make up being used by someone else.
I unwound myself from my sheets with jerking, uncoordinated movements that almost took longer than my bladder was willing to wait. I shuffled down the hall just as ungracefully as I'd emerged from my bed, and nearly missed the bathroom doorknob. When I did grab hold of it, I thought I must be at the wrong door. It didn't turn.
My bathroom door was locked. I realized the static sound in my ears was not hangover induced, but was coming from the shower. As I listened closer, I heard a man humming. Oh, shit, I thought to myself, who the hell did I fuck last night?