I dream in release

I dream in moonlit summer evenings,

in salted ocean on sweet skin,

in a body that sways and curves

like the earth I was born in,

I dream in vivid uncertainty,

knowing myself and yet not knowing,

life like sand beneath a barefoot goddess,

certain yet shifting,

but beautiful, always.

home again

Saturday. feels like summer lives in your breath sometimes. you drove your car through the city traffic just to kiss my cheek and hold my hand.

Flowers in the backseat. you meant to get lilies but bought orchids instead. they smell just as pretty while we watch the airplanes land.

summer salt

offcity streets.
stretches of green roll away to the sound of vintage summer music and the soft of your heartbeat. only hours ago I swore I was carrying too much weight to open my chest even for oxygen.  now it all feels a lot like feathers.  like a distant memory of the heaviness. like it’s the pain that can’t breathe when you’re next to me.


a field of sunflowers.
you drove me hours just to hold hands with  petals that have fallen for the sun.  i think of the poem I wrote once. if I remember it was about sunflowers and directions. it feels long ago. funny because hours feel like minutes when I’m with you. i laugh at the idea of  loving anyone else somehow. when you drive I flicker my gaze between the window and your image now.  i can’t decide which view is more beautiful. but if I were made to choose I know it would be you.


pretty skylines.
i hold your hand like you are made of stardust. one strong whisper and you could blow away. stardust because I know you to build galaxies. stardust because you must be made of shooting stars. the kind that caught my wishes when I set them free. how else could this be real and you be in love with me.