Touch Me

Kiss my forehead when you wake up.
Put your arm around my waist when you stand next to me.
Hold my hand when we walk together.
Rub my shoulders and kiss my neck while I'm washing dishes.
Scratch my back while we're watching tv.

I will run my fingers along the underside of your arm, and rub the back of your head.
I will wrap my arms around your waist from behind.
I will rub your shoulders and your neck.
I will hold your hand in public; I will let the world know that you are mine and you are important to me.
I will kiss your cheek when I have shocked you and I want to make you smile.


Touch me so that I feel connected to you.
Touch me outside of the bedroom so I don't feel like only a sexual object.
Touch me in public.
Touch me when we are alone.
Touch me all day long and you will find that the nights are warmer.

Too

Her eyes are a little too big, but they see the whole world.

Her nose fits hers face, but protrudes just a little much.

Her lips are full and sensuous, but a little too wide to be fashionable.

Her skin is a little too pale with too many freckles.

Her mouth is a little too big, and she talks just a little too much.

Her laugh is a little too loud, but it is jovial and captivating.

Her heart is a little too big and has a propensity for getting broken, but she shares it all the time anyway.

She cares a little too much, loves a little deeply, hurts a little too often, but to her it is all worth it. Because she would rather feel too much, than not enough.

Do I Miss You?

I'm getting really sick and tired of missing you. I think that if I could just pinpoint the reason I miss you, I could let you go. 

Was it the way you made me feel?  Because most of the time it wasn't good. 

Was it the way you helped me and made my days easier? Because I don't recall that. 

You didn't make me feel safe to express my emotions. You didn't make me feel cared for or respected. You didn't make me feel valuable. 

But you were there. When I was really low, you were there. I'm low right now and the only person I have to lean on is our thirteen year old. And I can't. Because he's a child. I need someone right now and I'm all alone. I think that's why I miss you. Because even though you were kind of a shit, you were my shit. And you were here most of the time. So I think what I have to really ask myself is: do I miss having someone around for me in my times of need, or do I miss YOU?

Happy Mother's Day

You've carried a child in your body. You met your child after she was born. You've loved a child for a moment and sent him home. You said goodbye way too soon. 

You have lost sleep, wiped noses and bums, and nursed her through illness. You have seen first steps, first days of school, and first crushes. You have prepared macaroni and cheese one thousand three hundred and twenty seven times. This year. 

You have read the same book over and over. You have remembered the formula to find the hypotenuse. You have poured over books and articles. You have sat through countless doctor's appointments. You have made the hard choice to try medication.  You have radically altered your family's diet to keep someone healthy. 

You have helped her with her veil. You have held his babies in your arms. You have helped them pack to move across the country. You have mastered the art of Skype. 

For all of you, be you aunts or mothers, grandmothers or great grandmothers, you have impacted lives. You are carried in someone's heart. You have changed the world. 

Happy Mother's Day.

To My Future Love

I don't know your name or what you look like.  I don't know where you live or how many years you have lived on this planet in this lifetime.  I don't know if I will be your first love or if you have had your heart broken before.  I don't know if you've loved deeply and fully, but I know you will when you're ready.

I do know that your smile reaches all the way to your eyes and your laughter lights up the room.  This will draw me to you.  I love to laugh.  We will laugh a lot together.

I know that you will have your own ideas and opinions and that sometimes we will not agree on things.  I like that you are respectful in your discourses and your mind is open and willing to hear someone else's perspective.

I know that you are wildly passionate about many things.  Our passions might not always be the same, but I am glad you love certain things as deeply as you do.  I want wild passion in our lives.

I don't know if you have children of your own, but I do know that you enjoy children.  You understand that childhood is fleeting and the sound of children's laughter is the most magical sound in the world.

I know that you have good friends.  People that you share your secrets with, and in turn, you help carry theirs.  Good friends like this are hard to find, and I am so glad you have them in your life.

I don't know if you have travelled more than I have, but I know you understand the feeling of wanderlust.  The desire to explore hidden corners of this world and experience new things.  I know that we will enjoy traveling together and discovering new moments that take our breath away.

My future love, I don't know how long you will be in my life.  If you are the love of a moment or the love of the rest of my lifetime.  I do know, that when the time is right, I will be very excited to meet you.  I will be excited to learn your name and what you look like.  To learn where you've lived and hear about some of the years you have been on his planet in this lifetime.  I will be excited to love you and laugh with you; to discover your passions; to lose my breath.

I loved you once.

I fell in love once. It was easy and fast and light. It was absolutely the best feeling in the world. But it was fleeting. 

Like a little flame on a candle without something more substantial to grab on to. No large piece of wood to burn. And without the nurturing, the tenderness, and the care, it cannot grow. 

Trying to drag it out and make it burn longer is exhausting. The wax is disappearing. 

I loved you once, just for a minute. It's okay to let that minute be the only one. 

Jigsaw Pieces

You and I were two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that never quite fit. You were the sky, and I was the earth. Always drawn to each other but never meant to touch. 

In our desire to be closer and fit better, we kept whittling away pieces of ourselves. And sometimes each other. Cutting and cutting the bits of ourselves that initially drew us together. Until we were merely shapeless prices, devoid of personality and sparkle, mostly fitting next to each other but never truly together. 

I miss you sometimes. Like the flower misses the sun. Like a tree blown by the wind, reaching ever upward but always failing to touch. 

I'm regrowing the pieces I cut off for you. It is so painful. I'm watching you regrow your pieces as well. Ultimately, my wish for you is to be whole. To find another bit of sparkling sky where you fit. Without having to cut away the bits of you that make you you. And I wish the same for me; to find a bit of fragrant earth with fertile ground where tangible things can grow and thrive. 

Social Media Voyeurism

I think your brain is sexy. I love your use of proper grammar and long words, such as "etymological". 

Even though you are far away and our paths seemed doomed to never cross again, I am enjoying the momentary glimpses into your life. 

You have captivated me since I was 14. I am grateful to know that you simply still exist, you are well, and you have grown into a person I am still very much drawn to.  

In The Fog

You were right you know. It wasn't love. It was infatuation. 

The thing about infatuation is that it fades. Especially when left unattended. 

I find myself incredibly angry with you. And when I let myself feel that way, I end up getting getting mad at myself. Am I asking too much?  Should I be giving you more space to process things at your own pace?  

Yes, I get that I come with a lot. I have a big mind and a big heart and a big family. I don't want you to be afraid of these things, I want you to be excited that I want you here to experience these things with me. I don't want you for your money or your body or the restaurants we go to. I want you for your smile and your laugh and the way you fill up a room with your presence. 

You're not doing me a favor by being with me. I genuinely like you, but if you aren't feeling the same way, please don't feel obligated to stay here. I don't want to be your fallback. Your safety. Your obligation. I deserve so much more. And I'm not afraid to ask for it. It's okay to take your time deciding, but once you decide, you need to act. Don't leave me waiting in the fog for the beam of light that will never come. I can find my own way home. 

i want to love you, a poem

i want to love you

passionately

madly

deeply

but i’m scared

scared you won’t feel the same

scared you won’t accept my offering

scared of standing in the rain, cold, alone

you make me feel light

and warm

and safe

i feel beautiful when you look at me

i think you’re scared

scared of losing the control you’ve carefully cultivated over the years

the control you needed to have when you were younger

to protect yourself

scared that if you let me see inside to the hurting parts, i’ll run away

i think this, because it’s exactly how i feel

i don’t want you to see the dark parts of me

the hidden parts

i don’t want you to turn away in horror

but i want to show you

slowly

one peek at a time

i’ll show you mine if you show me yours

i won’t judge you

i won’t make you feel like a monster

i only ask that you do the same for me

Fear is...

Fear is, by far, one of the most unpleasant emotions to experience. It has the power to stop us in our tracks and completely redirect the course of our lives. 

Fear is crippling. It is paralyzing. It is more than unnerving, it can be detrimental to our entire being. 

But if we allow fear to enter and we examine it, we can thank it for its lesson and ask it to leave. 

So what is it that I'm afraid of today?  Of success in my business?  Of failure in my business?  Am I afraid of being alone?  Afraid of what people will think of me and say about me?  

Yes. To all of that. So what lessons can I take to help myself grow and leave the fear behind?  Well, I'm still working on that. 

I feel like this is the thing that will radically change how people see me and think of me. I could be more scared, but I'm choosing to let this shatter the image I've imagined that people had of me and that I've tried to live up to, and let my real, authentic self shine through. The one I can be everyday. The one I've always been, but have been too afraid to show people. This is my time. And it's terrifying, but it is going to be so worth it. 

What I Want

I want someone who gives me the freedom to be me.  You don’t have to understand all the bits and pieces of me, just give me the space to explore myself and discover what I love and what I want to change.  Love me because I’m changing.  Constantly.  Daily.  

I want someone who will stand in the rain with me and marvel.  Listen to the differences in the sounds when it hits the windows of the house, or the roof, or the top of the car.  Put your arms around me and your head over mine to try to keep the raindrops from falling into my eyes.  

I want someone with a hunger for knowledge.  Who wants to learn new things solely for the satisfaction of knowing.  Someone who will share knowledge and information without being proud or haughty.  Who delights in discovering how things work and why.  

I want someone who tells me I’m beautiful every day.  Someone who says it when I’m dressed to the nines for a night on the town, and when I’m in my ugliest sweatpants with smeared makeup and my hair a mess.  Someone who says it when we are naked and sweaty together, and when I’ve been up all night with a sick child.  

I want someone to go on adventures with. Someone who knows that this world is so much bigger than the corners we have known. Someone who wants to see the crevices heretofore unknown without prejudice or judgement. Someone who delights in the new and the unexpected and welcomes it as part of the understanding of life.

I want someone to open doors for me. Not because it is expected or a socially mandated requirement. But because you want to stay by my side the entire walk up to my side of the car or because your arms are longer and you like the way I duck underneath them to walk in the door with you.

I want someone who sees the unique, magical creature that I am and considers themselves blessed to be part of my life.  Someone who is also magically unique and slowly opens the doors to his soul so I may peek and marvel at all the bits that make him him.  

Don’t try to put me in a box that will neatly fit into your life.  It won’t work.  What I want is not neat or tidy.  It will explode all over you and me and everything we know.  It will touch us in places we thought no one would ever see.  What I want is big and bright and burns like the sun.   What I want will change me.  And you.  Irrevocably.  

Let's Go Slow

Let’s go slow.

I know this may seem silly since I invited you into my bed after having known you for only five days, but let’s go slow.  

What we have right now is the beginning.  The beginning of something magical.  

Let’s revel in the newness of it.

We may not have many more beginnings again, so let’s go slow.  

My hips fit perfectly into the crook of yours while we sleep.  Let’s enjoy that.

My head fits perfectly under your chin when we dance.  Let’s enjoy that, too.

Your lips fit perfectly in between mine when we kiss.  I definitely enjoy that.

I love your eyes,

your laugh,

the tilt of your chin.

You love my eyes,

my lips,

the way I surprise you.

Let’s keep loving these things.  

The small parts of ourselves and each other.  

Eventually we will love the sum of all the parts.

But not yet.

Once we love it all, there is no going back.  No slowing down.  

Once we love all of the great things, we are forced to see some of the not-so-great things.  

I know they’re there.  I’m not scared of yours.  I’m scared of showing you mine.  And maybe you already know they’re there, too.  But I’ve been hurt.  I’m not ready for you to see.  I’m not ready to know that you see.  

So let’s go slow.  Let’s take it one tender kiss at a time.  One long, powerful, soul quenching kiss. One earth shattering fuck.  Let me hear you say my name while I’m shaking in your arms.  One at a time.  For today, and tomorrow, and however many tomorrows we have after that.  

You're Not In Love with Me

You’re not in love with me.  

You’re in love with the concept of who I used to be.  

When things were easy.  When you got your way.  

You want the meek little girl I used to be.  Who never challenged you.

You want someone who will adore you.  Who will sit back and let you be the center of the universe.  

You want someone to tend your house and raise your kids.

You want someone for you.  

You do not want me.

I want someone who challenges me to be better.  Not more pretentious.  

I want someone who makes me laugh with them, not at someone else.

I want someone who delights in my children, even when they are screaming and fighting and generally acting crazy.  Because that’s who kids are and what they do.  Not someone easily irritated at the noise and chaos.  

I want someone who wants to change the world with me.

I want someone who delights when I pour into them, not someone who expects it and gets mad when I don’t do it.  

I want someone for me.  

I do not want you.  

So where do we go from here?  

We walk away.  

Gently.

Peacefully, I hope.  

Acknowledging that we are not the right person for the other and wishing each other well.

We won’t linger on our hurt feelings, because feelings fade.  Especially when we don’t tend the fire.  

We will stop trying to change each other and recognize that the other is a good person, just not the right person.  And that’s okay.  

I wish you happiness.  And peace.  And it’s okay if it takes a while for you to find it.  The journey is the place where we grow.  

love me in the quiet, a poem

love me in the quiet

with my makeup off

and my hair a mess

love me in my sweats

curled up with a book

in someone else’s world

love me when i’m crying

when my heart is breaking for someone else

when it hurts so much i can’t breathe

love me when i’m angry

filled with righteous indignation

or even just petty spite

love me when i’m happy

with the laughter bubbling over

and a twinkle in my eye

love me in the bedroom

with your head on my chest

trying something new

love me in the kitchen

where i dance and sing

where i am the master of culinary creation

love me when i’m sleeping

teeth brushed, face washed

my body pressed against yours

love me when i’m busy

getting the kids ready for school

running ceaseless errands

love me in the quiet

when everything around us has stopped

when it is just you and me

when the day is filled with an abundance of nothing that turns into everything

when everything else fades away

love me there

Broken Heart

I am 32 years old. Five foot six, one hundred and forty five pounds. I have loved. I have lost. I have pushed away. 

I've had children so my belly has an extra bit of squish on it. Stretch marks. Cellulite. I don't hate it. It's just my belly. It sticks out if I eat a particularly cheesy or bread heavy meal. But I eat it anyway. Because it's delicious. 

My breasts also have stretch marks. And they are not pert or perky. But they have nourished new life and I love them for that. My nipples are a little desensitized after nursing, but that just makes them better for rough play during sex. I like it when it hurts a little. 

My ass is small and flat. Like every other part of my body- at least, all of my most womanly parts- I have stretch marks on my hips. They remind me of the days I grew life. They make me feel god-like. 

Don't spank me when we are having sex. Or ever. Don't remind me of the childhood I fled as soon as I was able. It doesn't end well for you and I hate trying to explain. 

My first vacation was at the hands of a novel. My first escape from reality. The first time I realized that everyone has a story and that mine is not the only one that makes me cry. Books taught me empathy, and compassion. They taught me history and of suffering I would never know. I have had great loves. And I have had bitter disappointments. I have cried with the lowest and I have lamented with the highest. I have learned that no matter the circumstance of your birth, you will hurt. You will have heart wrenching pain. You will suffer. Misery finds us all at one time or another. 

Sometimes I wonder who I was in a previous life. If I knew love. If I knew heartache. I'm sure that I did. The secret is to be open to it at any time. 

They come had in hand, you know. Love and heartache. When you open your heart to someone, it will get broken. It needs to get broken. The secret is to open your heart so wide and so often that it will take more than one person to shatter it. 

I'm not talking only of romantic love.  Yes, it is perhaps the easiest love to feel. Certainly, it is the first "grown up" love that we feel. But it is not the only kind. 

Opening your heart can be as simple as listening to this sixty eight year old man tell you about the great love he had for his dead wife and crying with him for his loss. There, your heart is broken. 

It can be sitting with a child and listening to her tell you about her day because you know she doesn't have anyone to talk to at home. There, your heart is broken. 

It can be raising someone else's child for two years and handing him back when the time comes. Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces and you sink to the floor wondering if anyone will ever love him like you did and if he will ever remember you, simultaneously hoping that he does and praying that he doesn't. There, your heart is broken. 

It can be watching that goddamn ASPCA commercial and hearing that song come on and looking around your house to see if you can take in just one more rescue. There, your heart is broken. 

Your broken heart is the most beautiful thing you can offer the world. Let your heart break. Start in a book. Or with your neighbor. Everyone has a story. If you listen long enough, you will hear it. 

My body might show the signs of my age or the children I've borne. You can judge me on my flabby belly or my flat ass. But until you look at my broken heart, you will never know me. It's the kind of thing you can only see with your heart. 

Bring me your broken heart, and I'll bring you mine. Together we can explore the shattered pieces. And someday, maybe the shattered pieces of yours can combine with the shattered pieces of mine, and a whole new broken heart will begin to form. That would truly be the most beautiful thing of all.