Hope is the thing that perches in the soul, and sings the tune, without the words, and never stops at all. 

-Hope Is The Thing With Feathers, Emily Dickinson 

Adieu

Say you'll stay
with me,
make this house a home,
watching the leaves yellow,
and bid farewell
to their branches,
skipping stones and
watching the ripples
cascade the cold water,
conversing over
steaming mugs of chocolate
and chamomile.

Don't leave me here,
I'd rather you wish me
painful death,
than to hear you say,
"adieu."

Now, only the sickly sweet aroma
of cocoa lingers,
the pond has frozen over,
branches are bare like your midriff
while wearing your favorite top,
this house never feels like home.

Say you'll stay
with me.

Dreaded, Divine

Like every rose has
a thorn,
and every bee delivers
a sting,
so you are too,
punishing and beautiful, all
at once.

With face fair,
and laced with contempt,
your soft hair,
tainted with hatred,
an abundance of bosom,
smeared with anger.

So able to deliver
a crushing blow, yet
so delicate as to
charm any.

Dreaded and dangerous
this woman is
to her foes and adversaries,
divine and dearly
this woman is
to her friends and colleagues.

Little Pleasures

It's the crunch of leaves,
torn away from

branches come fall,

the smell of your favorite

dish cooking on the stove,

the touch of your

sweet lover's hand on the

nights when the snow is thick,

the little moments

you wish you could

immortalize and add

to an ever-growing

journal of your best experiences,

and worst grievances.

The sight of them

alone is not

enough, to satisfy the deep

chasm in your being,

the void in your life that still

needs filling.

Five senses to stimulate,

five senses to feed,

five senses to invigorate,

five senses to support,

five senses to fill you.

Stars

Tonight I have

traversed the galaxy,

this time

not alone,

though it was only

for a fleeting moment,

nothing else existed,

just you,

and I,

and the stars all around us.

You love me, and I find you still a spirit beautiful and bright, yet I am I, who long to be lost as a light is lost in light.

-I Am Not Yours, Sara Teasdale 

Ticket

While building your bridges

you stopped halfway

just to burn them down

and,

the first chance you got,

you got a ticket to

the first Greyhound bus

out of town.

You didn't realize that

a boy like me

would chase a girl

like you down.

My memory serves me well,

the last of you was the

back of the bus leaving town.

I didn't have the heart

that you had.

But maybe that's why

I needed you so bad.