All These Years

“He taught me how to love, but he didn’t teach me how to stop.”


There are days, still, even days like these – bright, burning, and blue – where I sit in the back of the Escalade with the trunk wide open, staring out at sawdust and cement, at old power tools that I will never use, and I imagine a different kind of life.

Even in Love

I used to have a very specific image of what my life was going to be like: snow, East Coast, New England architecture and a house littered with cocoa hues and a pathway that I would walk through hand in hand with that man in a blue suit and his neck warmed by a grey scarf.

Highway Hearts

I often wonder about the reasons why people are on the road late at night. For some, it’s the quiet, for others, it is to coax the dark places of their soul, for if the sky can hide behind the stars, perhaps it’s okay for us to do so, too.

Heaven’s Heartache

I awoke from an afternoon nap. My immediate thought was of you. The air waltzed with particles of my burnt candle oil – purple orchid – and sunlit dust particles. The rays hung low in the sky – I knew dusk was upon me. The stars would blink their eyes soon and their crescent mother would cast its shadow on cherry blossoms and strawberry fields.