Much Too Short & Far Too Bittersweet

All I ask is that you remember our beginning. Don’t remember the ending. Stories that don’t end in happily ever after are always better read on the first page.

Infinities

Somewhere, out there, exists another universe that tells a better story of you and me. We are together. We rent a townhouse in Georgetown, one made of bricks and a cherry wine door. We drink birthday cake milkshakes out of mason jars in the summer, and take midnight walks on the first snow of winter. Life is warm and familiar.

An Open Letter to the Man I (Still) Love

It’s been over a year and a half since the last time we held hands. It’s not even the handholding that I miss most though. It’s not the interrupted conversation kisses, the lovemaking, or even the Thanksgivings up in Oregon with your family. It’s the fact that I lost my best friend. That’s not me idealizing anything – that’s just the truth.

The End of All that I Knew

I can still remember the first time he introduced himself to me. We shook hands – which seems absolutely ridiculous when I think of what we were and maybe still are to each other – and I could feel the static cling between us. I felt my lips part slightly when he repeated my name back to me.

Second Chances

The skyline twinkled under bouncing stars and showed off its glimmer of fluorescents, LEDs, and milky street lights where souls could find solace from even the darkness within. And then I was just there – upon your doorstep, red bricks, red fire hydrants – red with the passion of so many nights past.