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We started with some natural chemistry,     talking to each other as easily as we breathe. Then came the attraction. She was stunning,     too bright to see clearly. The beaker turned foggy,      as we turned up the heat. It was only a matter of time until we had to meet. She flew across the country to see me,     the fantasy attempting to bridge with reality. But when she wrapped her legs around me,     we begin to melt into each other,    and where I begin and she ends,    

Give me one hour alone in this dark room without you,    before I have to get clothes on,     and float around town        pretending to be fine. What's the line that will bring us back together? What's a line that we haven't already crossed? Are there any words that you can hear that would bring you here? I just need one more hour alone in this dark room without you,    and then I can go do one more day. We made a mistake . . . the pain should fade away, someday. The pain sh

I jog two miles out into the woods,     where I sit by the river       and listen. And it helps. Then, I touch every tree on the trail during the walk back home,   thanking them     for giving me oxygen. And I imagine them thanking me     for giving them carbon dioxide. As I breathe      I look up to the top of every tree       and they all seem        so unique. I wonder what they'd say if they could really speak? After that, I try to feel the sun or the wind on my skin. I b

And what is it called when you don’t want the person you loved to know how badly they hurt you,      because you know that if they truly knew what you went through,        it would hurt them so deeply,        and you still want to spare them from as much pain as you possibly can,         so you never let them know            just how badly they broke you? Is that called courage or cowardice? Is that love or betrayal? If they never know, is there any chance they could still gr

“Remember, Kid,           don’t ever mistake someone's uncertainty                for your inadequacy.” Some people can love you         and still run from you. They can crave connection         and still choose distance.  They can think of you daily      and still never reach out.  They can feel guilt     yet never apologize.  They can want stability      yet create chaos.  They can feel the safest alone     yet fear being forgotten.  Some people can love you deeply      but

He packed his bags—the bags under his eyes resembling that of a raccoon—and under the moonlight, he began his climb.  Mount Hope is where he was told to go if he wanted to sever a soul tie. So to the top of Mount Hope was where he was going. After a few steps, it started snowing. With his head down, he kept going.  It was a lady in his dreams—a lady who was made of light—that told him to climb Mount Hope in hopes of severing his soul tie.  The wind howled fiercely, pierci

I know I'm not a good man because when I take my dog on a walk I only clean up about 75% of his shit. I always leave behind a little bit of shit. I'm not sure why I do this. But about four weeks ago, While walking my dog, I stepped in dog shit, And I about lost my shit. I swear it might've ruined my relationship with how much I complained about it. Honestly. Yet I Always leave behind  About 25%  Of my dog's shit. Just a little nugget  For the earth. But I'm pretty sure doing

The thing I was most afraid of happening happened. And I survived it. I am still alive. I ate it and carried on. I was deeply hurt but I learned. I was burned, but now I am healing. I lived through it. And now this fear has no power over me anymore. Now this fear has no power over me anymore . . . Now most of my fears don’t. Now I am more secure. I walked through the fire and I am fine. I loved truly, was rejected, ate the sadness, and grew. I grew. I’ve changed. I loved. I l

To let go   and detach     just enough     to see it clearly,     while still holding onto seeds of hope,      is almost enough       to grow . . .      Not quite, though. You can’t really let go        if you still cling onto hope. To love from a distance     and have patience;   to walk alongside someone     and not lead them,      or be led by them; to never rush them,      and always love them      just as they are       but from afar        is hard        for those of us

To love is to die To love is to sacrifice our pride To love is to let someone live within To love is to be hurt some day To love  is to know happiness is only real when shared To love is to truly trust  To love is to overcome our lust To love  is to be irrational To love is to believe To love is to give someone hope To love is to be steady when things get heavy To love is to accept someone else fully To love is to forgive To love  is to hold a safe space for someone exactly a

Into the wild    He went    To be alone     Fed up with the demands of western society     Fed up with relationships      Tired of all the pressure     Burnt out by the grind     With a deep desire to be in nature All alone . . .    He was a young man      With a bright future       Who went into the Alaskan wilderness To be All  Alone      He survived for awhile       And might’ve even found some peace in the solitude for a few weeks      But then he started to get lonely   

I’m not sure I have much left to say, my dear     I fear I’ve run dry of poetry and tears I blew out the candles, wishing for fifty years       While you wished to be free from me  So here we are     The last light from a dying star You and me       The last days of a flame      The last of the trickling sand in the hour glass       The last seconds of us And as you fade away     And our love fizzles out        We will be left with pockets full of doubt Did we try hard enough

Our demons didn't dance together like they were supposed to.  Our shadows didn’t align.  Our past came back to bite us.  Our trauma left us wanting.  We couldn’t make it work. We couldn’t find our rhythm.  Our souls are tied.  But our house was built upon one too many lies.  We could fight, and we could forgive, but we couldn’t live.  We could love, and we could long, but didn’t make it through. We ran. We didn’t try to understand.  We just ran.  We didn’t stick to the script

I suppose this is the part of the story when the main character picks himself up and carries on . . . This when he lets go of the pain that is devouring his insides, and heals. This is the part  in the story when he doesn't give up, but learns some sort of valuable lesson instead. Yeah . . . That's probably what he should do. He  should move  on. He really should try to forget about her, and learn to live without her around. He doesn't do this to get her back. He does this to

Without you   my life    is the sky with no sun  Without you    my life       is the winter with no christmas Without you     my life         is an empty picture frame Without you    my life         is a river run dry Without you     my life        has no music Without you       my life          is an empty bed     Without you      my eyes        can’t see Without you     I can’t taste         anything Without you      these days pass by        and they mean         nothing 

One can care too much.  One can love too hard.  And one can lose themselves completely in that type of love.  Yes, it is better to love a little less, and keep yourself,  then it is to lose yourself  loving someone else.  CH 1/1/26

We don't have much time to love: A second, a day, maybe a year. The seasons change, Moments pass us by, As we stay caged by fear. We don't have long to love, it is true, Just in Brief touches; in brief hugs; and in quick kisses. Life moves along. The great wheel needs pushing. The inevitable weight of change  constantly calls us forward, And the tender moments fade . . . To lo

The Avoidant and The Anxious  fell in love with each other, which is almost never a good thing for those two attachment styles.  At first, the love is powerful—magical, even. But after the magic starts to fade, She, The Avoidant, would pull away. When the first bad feeling came,  she longed to run away, And he, The Anxious, would drive himself crazy trying to figure out what was wrong. He would feel guilty. And scared. His mind would race and his body would shake.  He really

Today, I fight the urge to smash my laptop into pieces against the brick wall next to me.   Today, I tried to reread some old poetry, and I wanted to hit the sucker who wrote those things. He knew nothing. Today, I can’t think. Today, I want to drink. Today, I hate writing. Today, I still hurt. Today, this shit doesn’t help. Today, I want to melt. Today, I want to go back to sleep. Today, I don’t want to weep. Today, I will try to move on. Today, I will find the strength to c

I always hated Jay Gatsby. And I always hated Daisy. I never understood them back then. I hated the tragic love story. Yet,  Here I am now, at 33, A splitting image of Jay Gatsby  And her, My Daisy.  . . . Don't you see? All this poetry Is just a party, Hoping the right lady walks in, And reads something that'll get her to love me again . . .  I have become Jay Gatsby.  And her,  My Daisy.  . . . . . . . . . Welp,    Fuck that shit.  I hated Gatsby and Daisy for a reason.  CH