Writing

i thought it was love because i got that funny feeling below my ribcage

each time i saw you i felt what the characters in my books felt

stomach flipping, heart beating too fast, head light

She told me the song on the radio had made her cry 

She calls it stupid how a few chords 

could trigger such feelings. 

I see her as a bluejay, 

i found a binder full of photos from my preschool years,

lined paper covered in neat cursive

signed by my teachers, women who i remember the names of

and not much else. their voices were warm and the house

i still hold you in my heart, 

where it's safe, 

and you have your place, 

but every once and a while, 

i feel you come out, 

We sit alone together 

Pretending to be something we wish we were

Not liking the something we are

Because, maybe pretending to be something  we're not

Will fix all our issues

I like to think I smile more when autumn comes

I caught myself grinning out the window

Trees back home don’t look like that, so full

A tree skirt has a Christmas connotation

But the middle of October brings its own