Chapter 3

  Bryan told me today that it’s not you that I’m missing. Not you, the person. It’s the feeling. The memory. That first love. That taste of a love outside of the tainted love given to me by my mother. It sure as hell feels like you. But, he could be right. Maybe. Maybe. Advertisements

Sweaty hands

“Here let me help” I stepped in between two prepubescent  kids, trying to help ease the awkwardness of the air. It was sweet and cute. And just like that….. Sweaty hands. Wait. It tugs at something, something in the back far places of my brain…. I show him the simple step. His poor face smiling… Continue reading Sweaty hands


I don’t feed you. I’ve ripped out your roots, I’ve stuffed you in rocky soil. The sun does not shine on you. No water do I allow to touch your leaves… How do you grow? How do you FLOURISH? What am I giving to you?


One day,  hopefully soon….I’ll be so full there will be no more room for thoughts of you. Countless fantasies, always dancing on my back. I’ll be stronger,  wiser……letting go of such silly thoughts…. Of harsh truths. I’ll. Never. Be. Yours. Is it sad for you too? Or have you already forgotten?


I sometimes go hours without thinking of you… Not days,  but hours. Baby steps. One day,  I’ll breath weeks without your name on my tongue….in my brain, swimming in my blood…