I pulled out all of my old pictures this morning. Printed, not digital. Remember when we used to do that? Pick up our photos from Walgreens or Long’s or Costco. Remember the tangible? The things we could feel with both our hands and our hearts. I think I am addicted to nostalgia. So I look, knowing even the good times will hurt, too.

A Saturday in Santa Cruz


He rescues me in ways he doesn’t even realize. With his warm voice and sweet kisses. Like harmony and honey. I watch the Ferris wheel along the boardwalk spin round and round. A colorful pinwheel surrounded by the scent of pink cotton candy and kettle corn. We are belly laughs and rose gold cheeks. I cannot fully describe this feeling in my stomach. Something like joy and nostalgia and I’m looking at him and realizing he is my future.

Shooting Stars & Neon Lights

In Another Life

I adore the East Coast summer nights. We connect constellations and scatter stars across our skin. In this other life I have with you. We walk, hand in hand. Spend Sundays writing love notes on Post-Its, tucking them into each other’s jean pockets. We love our love in letters, lists, and lightyears. In this other life I have with you.

Fading Lights & Ferris Wheels

Santa Cruz

You tasted like beer every time you kissed me. The cheap kind, because that’s all we could afford. “I’m going to make you my wife one day.” It’s so easy to make promises of forever when you are so young. But I believed every word, listening to the waves crash in the darkness; a satiation I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. You were terrible for me, but I recall you so beautifully.


To infinity and beyond

I used to wear this plastic crown as a child, playing make believe. I had no idea that fate is a mystery, love ends, and I used to think that if I squished my eyes shut just hard enough, I would sprout wings and fly off the edge of the earth.