sunshine in the morning

loving you feels like

sunlight streaming in from windows
whose ledges are
occupied with greenery and

soft jazz seeping out
from the record player
by that
blue velvet couch and

your arms wound around
the stillness
of my
beating heart and

sunflowers in my hair,
still smiling

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selfish heroism

I walk in to an empty house –
the first time in a long time that the space around me promises its vacancy.
This is hard to grasp hold of as lately any company feels empty.

I do the things I know to do but do them meaninglessly.
I scrub my body clean,
let the hot water sink in,
slip it into cleaner clothing.

Checkmarks on a checklist but nothing more than this.

And then it is time to dry my hair.
So I sit cross-legged in front of this pain inducing mirror –
the first time in a long time that I sit face to face with my own reflection.

This is when I feel it.

I feel the ache in my bones,
the stabbing in my chest,
the soreness of muscles that are tired from lifting the world onto them.


So I look into the eyes that stare back at me –
the pain in them much too hard to realize.
I look at her and whisper,

“You are strong.
You are beautiful.

Look at the things you’ve created,
the people you’ve loved,
the things you’ve done.

You are determined, a fighter –
growing beyond even the things you know of. 

You are magnificent

And I swore that in that moment she lifted her chin higher,
and thanked me.

drunk on stardust and the thought of you

and the night feels like a summer night but doesn’t feel like summer because you are my sunshine and what is summer without sunshine and do you see the same stars tonight?

the ones littering the sky with the bright moon by their side and I think of how this would be a perfect time to bring the car to the place where it all began and look up, look up for a little while.

though I’ll admit that when you’re next to me I barely look at anything but your face and your eyes and your smile and that feels a lot like I’m looking at the stars anyhow.

they say the brightest stars lead home so if I watch them long enough will they lead me to you?

it’s much the same anyways, missing you, as waiting to see the stars.

lasts all day and then I know you’re there but I know you’re miles away and on some days even the night fails to bring you to me.

you are stars to me because that’s what galaxies are made of and when it comes to you is there any other explanation for how you make me feel the way I do?