Even the Moon has Wreckage

I’m always testing the ones who love me

even though the number is few.

Sweet words are so foreign

I don’t trust them to be true.

Like the moon,

showing the world pretty bright lights

and hiding a part of itself never to be seen.

Letting people in is so hard when you know

They are so likely to go

after rubbernecking at the wreckage.

And bruises fade faster if no one keeps pressing into them.

Wishing for More

I’m driving down the road that leads to your house

But I turn left because someone else

Now lays on my side of the bed.

I wish you both the best 

but I can’t help myself from

Wishing I could see your face again

And Wishing we could head back to your place 

And wishing you found home in my arms.

-Nov 2020

Ocean Blues and You

I have a tendency to run from arms that are stretched open

for me. A tendency to think when people take

an interest in me, they only mean to pry me open with an oyster knife and leave

me empty. Your past has taught you that anyone can leave if they want to try.

So you don’t pry and you don’t ask why, but you always stay

When the Salmon Rots

We had so much fun at that bonfire on the beach, he and I.

The air in my nose was stronger than a salmon swimming upstream.

But if you stayed close enough to the growling fire

that smoky haze would cover you better than a fur blanket.

So I stayed close, tucked into him

dreaming of honey.

Against the black curtain of the sky

It was hard to tell the difference between

the fading flickers of a hot, red amber from a fire

versus his taillights fading down the road.

And then you realize it can’t always be seven o’clock on a summer evening.