home Musings Personal Letters To My Lover theme
from the city, with love
Writer. Thinker. Schemer. I'm figuring it out.

the ride

Last night, I danced with the devil.
Tangoed with a demon,
Waltzed with sin.
He stood six feet, three inches
And wore a smile so dazzling
The stars would be jealous.
It felt wrong
But it felt good
So I left my inhibitions on the floor next to my panties
And let him whisper into my ear
How much I’d enjoy this
God damn it, I did
And even though he left
A gallon of guilt weighing down on my chest
And dirty handprints, unwashable,
In places that only he and I could see,
I would dance the night away with him
All over again.


At 8am she poured her coffee
And toasted her bread
And gathered her belongings
And dashed out the door,
Late, as usual,
But she never did mind.
At 12pm she poured her tea
And dressed her salad
And glanced out the window
And caught the eye of a boy
Unfamiliar to this daily routine
And he looked,
And she looked,
And he slid in to make his acquaintance.
At 6pm she fell in love.
At 11pm she made it.
At 3am her heart broke,
Shattered into a thousand pieces
All tangled up
And lost in her sheets
Where she was left alone with echoed sweet nothings
And broken promises.

Monday afternoon

People who don’t have the mental capacity to understand concepts and theories that aren’t absolutely basic and lacking in depth are always so quick to call you crazy and make a mockery of you for exploring what they love to call “philosophical” ideas. Don’t try to bring me down to your level because you lack the ability to think outside of your little socially constructed/accepted box. Open your minds, people…jeez.


All the care I would take, all the love that we made, now you tryna find somebody to replace what I gave to ya…it’s a shame you didn’t keep it.


I once read that “we are the universe made manifest, trying to figure itself out.” This concept has always interested me and I swear I spend over half of my time thinking about it. There’s something about the unknown that fascinates me. There is a vast and unfathomable outer space and we don’t even account for a small fraction of it. The thing about us humans is that we think that we’re so important, so superior, so all-knowing. We don’t consider the fact that there are corners of the universe that we haven’t even begun to discover, that we are literally a single speck in a system that has been in motion for billions of years before us and will be for billions of years after. It’s just interesting that the universe developed itself into beings who are capable of intelligent thought and is now beginning to work itself out. The universe is an amazingly beautiful thing and at our core, humans are too but over the course of our evolution we have become greedy and cruel. What if we are the universe’s flaw? I quote from a friend, what if the universe is a like a matrix, and we are a part of it, but we became too powerful and are now figuring out that the matrix is a matrix and are trying to change it…but that was never what was intended to be? Think about it: of all of nature’s creations, we are the only ones who have tried to change it, and maybe it’s not supposed to be changed. 

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I just had a great conversation today and it just so happened to involve one of the concepts that interests me the most. I’d really love to continue it and hear from different minds and fresh perspectives.

then / now

When I first walked by you
Something in me stirred
Maybe it was the frantic rush
Of my heart singing
Melodies of what was to come,

We became so intertwined that
Love became everything we were
We clung to one another
As the stars cling to the sky,
As light clings to the moon,
As love clung to us.
You were my sun
And I was your universe

And now, we are nothing.
I walked by you the other day
And something in me stirred
Maybe it was the nostalgic ache
Of my heart mourning
Memories of what was,


So incredibly fucking frustrated, so incredibly ready to give the fuck up. It feels like I’m drowning. I’m so fucking unsettled. It feels like nothing is going right. I don’t know what to fucking do man. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. I’m tired.

one thirty am

She sat in the driver’s seat of her car as heat blasted from the vents and a mellow instrumental blared from the speaker. Outside, the street was empty and the snow was piled high. Her eyes slid closed and her head fell against the headrest as warmth slowly crept back into her body. In here, she felt closed off from the world, safe. She could go into the house, but she preferred the solitude she got out here. Her chest heaved up and down steadily. Tiny, crystal-like snowflakes had gathered on the inside of the front window, clean and precise and beautiful. She could watch them all night.

one twenty-six am

What I had at the moment was somewhat in a state of intangibility; it belonged to me just as much as it didn’t, so I found solace in Knowing. Although the things I Knew were neither definite nor uncertain, they were all I had so I clung to them, in hopes that one day soon I would have stability and understanding along with my Knowing.

eight forty-five pm

I fear growing old without someone to love. Reaching the end and realizing that I am alone—another birthday passes and I have no one to share my year with; a walk in the park or a meal at a restaurant with myself for company; days that fade into nights that fade into days, and all along I am in the presence of absence. Expired romance, haunting memories, and the lingering nostalgic scent of past lovers and forever moments.


It is so hard to be happy for someone who has shown you that their happiness will always come before yours.


Sometimes “okay” comes in waves; one day you are, the next day you’ve succumbed to the inside of your head and no matter what you tell yourself, you just can’t seem to hold on to that “okay.” It kills you inside, but what else can you do?

Take a moment and think about someone who you’ve shared yourself with. Who knows you better than anyone else, who you began to trust despite what you’ve been through because they made you feel like they could never cut you that deep. They promise you they’ll always be there, and one day you wake up and realize that they’ve left you hanging. The understanding you thought you had was a figment of your imagination. You’re hurting, and they’re the reason why. And they don’t care. You had been bruised before and they helped stitch you back up but now you feel the pain throbbing at your wounds, ready to burst out again. How foolish of you, to be so naive. To think that it all meant nearly as much to them as it had come to mean to you. It’s painfully obvious now. You are the only one in love, darling. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

one twenty-two am.

Four hundred twenty-three moons ago she fell in love with the crinkle in the corner of an eye and a subtle smirk. It became real when she looked into his eyes and they invited her in without a single exchange of words. They hungered for the understanding in her gaze. Within, he was fragile. Without, he was masked. Hairline fractures threatened a shattered soul and when those eyes lured her closer, she knew that her purpose must have been to help bring truth to that crinkle and substance to that smirk. Four hundred twenty-three moons ago, under the soft glow of ten million galaxies and three hundred billion stars, two halves became a whole.


Distance either makes the heart grow fonder or provides the space to forget. Sucks not knowing which you’ll get.


Part of my maturation process has been realizing that even though I’d rather be alone when I’m upset, letting someone be there for me and talking about it is good for me.