We are all locked in moments we can’t forget. Songs, places, and people fused into our souls, each memory a brick mortared in place. Every person pieced together by a timeline capturing themselves in moments significant to their very being.

The time you experienced raw joy,

A moment when you were overwhelmed by happiness,

A second dragged down by grief that felt like decades,

A breath stolen, but giving so much more,

Each a badge added to your belt, a memory fed to your soul, digested, and absorbed to nourish who you are.

Your laugh given life when your father would throw you high above and asked to bring a star back for him.

Your fear an imminent obsidian being given life, escaping from the cracks under the closet the first night you slept alone.

Your wonder born from watching the bees mingle amongst the flora,

You swore they were sharing secrets with the flowers.

Your grief, an all-consuming cell, feasting, a glutton for the richness of soul.

Your optimism a beacon around your neck, a reminder happiness is a choice.

Your courage, anger, curiosity a seed planted by a moment in time. They vine and bloom and thorn, seedlings nurtured by kindness.

Finite infinities imprinted into your being.

‘Definition of human?’

noun 

a human being, especially a person as distinguished from an animal or (in science fiction) an alien.

Similar: Relationships. Homes. Possessions. Pain. Pleasure. Pets. Jobs. Family. Laughter. The way the sun shines through the window in the morning and glints off the glass on the nightstand left over from last night’s two a.m. escapade into the kitchen. His practiced smile worn for that specific person, the only one who knows how to make him smile anymore. How she frowns right before sighing. The old man who owns the bookshop on the corner, lounging comfortably out front with a steaming cup of coffee and a plain donut, gleefully greeting everyone who passes by in the morning. Reaching into someone’s chest and crushing their heart with trembling hands. The familiarity of returning to a favorite book, the pages worn, and the words memorized, the story living within the soul just as much as it does on the page. Finding the perfect gift for someone special and feeling so giddy that it’s difficult to withhold presenting them with it immediately. Watching a good movie on the couch and munching on a handful of M&Ms. Crying on the bathroom floor in the dark. Making others laugh so loud the world begins to melt away around the edges of tears that escape, running away onto the floor. How to understand the lilt of loved one’s voices and how it changes with excitement, sadness, guilt, heartache, anxiety, ease. Comforting someone and knowing it makes a difference to them. Breaking a bone. Scraping a knee. Getting into a fender bender in a new car. Writing creatively. Going to college. Paying for college. Hearing a long-forgotten beloved song. The ability to learn. Losing a loved one, the grief nagging even years later. Smiling back at the old man who owns the bookshop on the corner, waving as he settles in contentedly out front with a steaming cup of coffee and a plain donut, merrily greeting you as you pass by on your daily commute. Knowing you’ll stop by later on your way back to see if he got that book you asked for.

My life is like a dirt road winding along the hills of Vermont. I pedal my way up the long steep hill but don’t enjoy the view because I’m too worn out. The flatter stretches have just enough potholes and annoying ridges—bump, bump, bumpety, BUMP! It’s enough to keep me on my toes, but not enough to wear me out. I catch my breath going down the hill; it’s like swimming in the pond on long summer evenings and homemade ice cream shared with siblings. Vibrant green mountains dance before me, the wind whistling through my hair. Some days this journey is hard and others it is beautiful. And that’s okay. As long as you keep believing in yourself.

Disillusioned loneliness, a perjured concept of love,

Bruises on my brain where you touched,

Scabs picked bloody by your breath,

A misconstrued love soured like rotting milk.

Trust which you read to me like a script from your palm, smeared and full of lies.

Lies.

Lies.

Liar.

Lying, damnit.

You lied.

I…

I still blister at the thought of you doing that.

I can’t look.

I won’t look.

The chasm between my healing and my hurt too far to bridge.

But you still have your fingers dug into my flesh,

Pain dug into what should have been pleasure.

I can’t look at it without seeing that image,

Seeing what you forced on me.

The rips you left because you didn’t care about what or who or how I needed,

But that I was useful and hurting, and easy to use.

Scars you burnt, clawed, and drew on me because I wouldn’t, couldn’t say no.

Scars that I bear written on my brain, my spine, my heart.

Viv,

It’s an oddity that you come to me at night,

Because you are sunshine breaking through the clouds at dusk.

You are the remedy to the shadows that chase me to and fro,

A sweet taste to swallow.

You are unlike any creature I know.

A mystery, an open book, a paragon.

What would you say if I told you I think of you often?

That you are the first since I made the choice

To stand up…

Out of the darkness,

Gulping air from my drowning.

What light you bring despite your own darkness.

A little starlight in the sky that tells me I’m not free,

But the chains no longer bind me.

Living down the street,
On the other side of the freeway,
My heart beats, trampling through this Stockton heat.
To meet with you, for a fraction of your whole day,
Taking a road that is familiar yet deplorable,
Reveals the treasures of this frequent drive,
Seeking your sun-kissed skin, quite adorable,
Dancing in my chicken grease boots, jiving.

Within these encased walls I found my
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
between classes, without the distractions.
Discovery through the pages, innate like
A Clockwork Orange
Finding the voices of these authors.
Calling and whispering, admiring like a
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,
Serendipity by the ending cover.
Chasing my next adventure,
A Streetcar Named Desire
the ride I’ll take next,
Before I have to return to ungodly studies.

One step forward, two steps backward,

One step forward, three steps backward.

Life had turned into a dance for her,

With the melody of the music unknown to her,

The instruments hidden in the background,

And the music instructor a mystery to her.

Despite all this, she moved in response to everything around her,

Letting the music take control, whether slow or fast-paced.

She did not have it in her to stop and process it,

She just shifted in tandem because her body wanted to.

And, so, on and on she danced to this tune,

Growing weary of the way she could not control what was happening,

And feeling dizzy by all the circles she twirled herself in.

She was lost, that much she knew,

In a world that was fixed, one that blurred past her.

Day in and day out she longed for a reprieve,

To form her own steps, to move at her own pace.

But, alas, the dance was already set;

One step forward and one step backward,

And it seemed she was never going to escape from it.

So, this is an apology, one that has been long due;

A cacophony of words I should have spoken a long time ago.

And I am sorry that I am late,

That this took as long as now to realize that you are beautiful.

I’m sorry that I took your flaws and projected them over your talents.

I apologize greatly for not seeing your worth, for belittling you every chance I got.

I’m sorry that I made everyone else seem perfect apart from you when truly you are one of a kind.

I’m sorry that I was never content with how you were, that I constantly needed to change something about you.

Dear, I’m sorry that I put you last when you should have been first.

I sincerely regret allowing your fear to stop you from growing, from doing what you truly loved.

I’m sorry I let others dictate how you should live your life when you knew best about yourself.

I’m sorry this spirit of indecisiveness consumed your thoughts, that I let anxiety in to be a daily companion.

Yes, this is an apology,

One due to myself because, hey,

We all need one of those.

Huddled by the hearth’s warm glow,

His hands found solace from the snow.

Gazing into dancing flames,

Burning eyes mirrored passion’s claims.

Roused by dawn’s gentle caress,

Nature’s rebirth he’d witness.

Radiant light graced his sight,

As a new day banished the night.

Crimson lips, a rosebud’s hue,

Smiled at the world made anew.

He gathered blooms from field and dell,

Fragrant gifts for his love to dwell.

Gently brushing her shoulders fair,

He tucked chamomile in her hair.

Two souls entwined in nature’s embrace,

Love’s tender blossoms graced her face.

Babbling brooks now hushed and still,

Rains could never their ardor chill.

Amidst the park’s golden plumage,

Crisp leaves danced to love’s sweet gage.

Ranging from “I’m perfectly fine”

To “Death seems the only design”

An abyss lies between

The extremes I’ve seen

Leaving me questioning your truth’s confine

Who are you? What haunts your soul?

A mere facade, emotions untold?

Is the psych ward your place?

Suicidal songs you embrace?

Or sad anime leaving you cold?

Unsure if knowing you brings joy or pain

Your treatment so cruel, scorning my name

If crumbling worlds give you bliss

Wipe those rose-tinted glasses, dear miss

Soon nothing will of your world remain.

No more will I linger in sorrow

No more will I wait for your morrow

Like a phoenix reborn

From the ashes you’d scorn

A new self from your fires I borrow.

Should gratefulness be my emotion?

For this tumultuous, stormy ocean

Of loving your warmth

To feeling love’s dearth

“Thanks” seems a word lacking due notion.

You never struck with your palm

Yet it ached, my body’s full qualm.

More than all, I craved you

Your presence, my only view

But tears fell, grief became my psalm

Now a scar brands where you pierced.

How wonderful when the aching’s been pierced

The wound has found its healing

A lightness I’m finally feeling

Trust me, this freedom’s the purest.