The Fickle Morning

And so the birds start their screaming

Because you let go of my hand

And old words lose all meaning

As the shadow of the dark night descends

Fickle morning, you are a liar

Look how you made a fool out of me

Mistook my love for desire

Assumed I need you to set me free

Fickle night, I know that you're scared

I know, because I am too

Scared of hurting someone else yet again

The way I've been hurt by you

And I don't want to touch you in the dawn

If I cannot hold onto you through the day

But as the sun slowly sets

Your love for me decays

Little Thing

Whit's fur ye'll no go past ye

Tales of my intrigue have probably reached you, Loch Ness,

you remain a constant muse to this hot mess
‘Till we finally meet one day
and you take my breath quite away,
I'll daydream to the melodies of your land
of Scottish folklore, romance, and scran.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger : The year leading up to turning 29

An abandoned teddybear sitting under a tree broke my heart.  

A heightened wall broke my heart. 

A spoiled favorite dress broke my heart. 

The child hugging his parent's legs at the airport broke my heart. 

The crunch of the autumn leaves as I trudged along the sidewalk has broken my heart. 

The vagueness and enormity of silence broke my heart. 

The infinity of rain pouring down my face broke my heart. 

Watching the life dissipate from a friend broke my heart. 

Witnessing the almost birth of a child broke my heart.

It is amazing how a multitude of things both random and specific break my heart sporadically, little by little. And every time I find myself feeling small and inconsequential in this big madhouse called the world, I remind myself how incredible things are right there inside me. 

It finds the resilience to hold itself together just enough to be broken again.

Funemployed for the first time in 4 years!

Loud and proud: I quit my job earlier this month

And before you ask—I did it without a plan b

Wow! I hope you have a ‘plan b’!” “hey, congratulations, but… what’s your ‘plan b’?” “big news! So, do you have a ‘plan b’?”

In the immediate aftermath of my decision to leave my full time yet remote job as a Project Manager for a US company, a big move indeed, friends and family have been reacting with a barrage of sometimes incredulous, sometimes appreciatory exclamations, but practically everyone has been overly concerned about my next step, to the point of hurriedly soliciting me into jumping right back into the work force. Something that i should have done, according to them, probably the next day after my exit and said goodbye to my colleagues. “no, i do not have a plan b” has been my unequivocal answer to people here and across the pond.

 Why should I? Plan B sounds like back-up plan to me, and having taken that major but exhilarating leap of faith that is leaving a full time gig that had become not fulfilling nor challenging, why should one settle for anything less than a newly minted ‘Plan A’? 

And while I chalk out my Plan A, I am looking forward to working on some personal interesting projects while I travel. If anyone has any ideas please feel free to send a shoutout or just a hi :) 

The true lies we tell ourselves

There are lights on the tree and there’s water in your eyes, even though the soft glow of everything through a window as you drive past makes you happy. 

It’s a happy kind of sad, it’s a sad kind of happy. 

Are you happy now?

The Usual Suspects

Relax,  its okay.

I’ve been here before

I know how this plays out

I can guage whats in store

Relax its okay

Don’t be shy

You know you want it to be about you

Yet you claim you cannot see me cry

Relax its okay

Take another piece of me

Everyone else has tried. 

And then they say, ‘You belong here, not there’

I belong to where I have been

Filled with stubs of tickets spent

Passes of my boarding and indentations of me in the seats I've slept in

I am the overstuffed and I am the poorly sewn and totems from my travel spill out when I dance

I am the nomadic collector of memories and moments,

 of sticky hands grabbing fragments of wander lust. 

And I am hiding them beneath these ribs.

Follow me and you may find them

I leave bits of my self in the footprints I step from.

Here. There. 

I do not belong where you want me to. 

Intentional Dissonance

It’s a feeling she misses. 

She made lists of things she wanted to feel when she was younger, big things, small things, ice, snow, the sand at the beach, someone else’s hands holding hers, feeling her, feeling them, a feedback loop of feelings, which is what happens when two people make love. 

She wanted to feel things that made her  feel safe and scared and things that ripped her heart out of her chest, things that made her want to go home and things that made her want to travel, things that made her  proud and things that made her regret her choices and she, like all people, slowly ticked these things off the list in her head as she lived, as the world turned until soon, there were very few things left to feel.

Hello 

She believed the last thing she would feel, would be nothing, as that was nearly impossible to feel unless you were dead or hadn’t been born yet. She wondered what it’d be like to not be able to wonder

Cuddler Vs Sprawler

Do you know how often
I speak to you
when you're not here?
Sometimes even when you are here but oblivious.
How often I
Mouth words and phrases to the space you should be filling?

And evertime you push my hand away from yours or disengage your feet from mine...
do you know how my heart breathes out a heavy sigh at the ways it is deprived?

The things we do to protect the people we love.