The Unpredictable

I cannot tell you

that these events blindsided me.

I had arrived home happily

when I got word of the



I cannot tell you

that I was numb to the words–

I fell apart on the street curb,

but still had to drive home



I cannot tell you

that I locked myself away

fell down on my knees

broken, and prayed

for reality,


and I cannot tell you

that in this private place,

the events took only a moment

to swallow, accept

and transcend.


Because this is all true,

just like we stood by the water

watching the crabs that day,

and the sun cut through the sky

illuminating our faces.


We were unhinged, uncovered,

vulnerable and real.

No performance.

No acting for a desired feel,

a moment kept as a peridot secret.


These events

pry on the unpredictable,

and it goes on and on.

It’s a cycle of absurdity

trying to break us.


But the slice of light

we caught that day

is a calm that surpasses

the on and on. It surpasses

every single doubting thought.

The Words

On my blank page

They see a frame.

Instead, I see your face.

Paper hosting our dear fate

And did you feel that, too?

The promise of remembering you?


I see stories miles long

And words that sing a song

Of deep and sad defeat.

Every feeling that I’ve owned

From all that you have ever known.

All of me is all you’ve sown.


Every time I go to write

And all my characters come to life

Or California flies to me

In hazy, familiar remedy

Sewn by pen that loops in glee

You are there to meet me.


On every page.

In every secret letter change.

Every word that stems from heart

And swears to take my every part.

I cannot speak or write or think

Without the pain that you’re missing.


I wait for it to let me go,

Instead to linger all the more.

I put it down before it wastes

And hope to see what you’ve erased,

Yet in fleeting vapor motions

Do you come and still evade.


You wrote to find out who you were

In rhythms, rhymes and messy blurs

Of overly romantic, tragic words.

But lost you were

In midst of sea, and empty

Did you find your page to be.


I watch the pencil sink and grow

The feelings only you and I know.

Without you here with me

A drenched and throbbing

Memory of you

Is fighting to be set free.


It’s not okay to think you’re bad

Or think it’s a mistake.

To take this closeness as a curse

For something in this universe

Has kept you near to me.

Now distance is the memory.


So you’re still here

In glimpses of the words.

Yours burned and mine came.

You got lost but I remained

To keep something alive.

My hand is held by this.


Now every cabinet is filled

With sheets you’re stitched into.

And I hope to show you

Before you’re truly gone,

All the words you gave me

That I have ever sung.

-December 2015


Everything I feel in the day

Comes out at night,

Like the bass of thunder

And the flash of light.

It keeps me awake with its constant beating,

Slapping the texture

Of my aching heart.

With rain,

and pain,

and tearing.

But to fall asleep to the sound of the rain.

It washes the hurt

That is brought by your name.

And to witness that powerful shift to healing

Means far more to me

Than what Anxiety thought it was stealing.

You Are Enough

You are stuck in between

being too much

and being too little.

But stop analyzing yourself.

You are enough.

You are enough.

It is enough to feel the way you do,

to be fully present in the present moment.

It is proof that you are alive,

in your imperfectly human way.

Take a deep breath. You are only human.

You are important.

You are enough.