from yesterday:

dry leaves chase me down the sidewalk two or three feet behind, caught in a breeze. upstairs my windows open to the sound of my neighbor's lovemaking. the gentle cooing of pigeons.

organ donor

Some people reject love like a body that rejects a new heart or liver, even though it could save them.

life of the party

And some throw their fragile human bodies off balconies having mistaken themselves for birds. There's only one organ that knows how to fly and it's the heart. The rest winds up broken on the pavement.

the "ex"

I met someone tonight who thought she knew me. She didn't. She thought she knew you too. I can't be sure, but I seriously doubt it. My love for you wasn't casual - like most things.

sensitivity

Today I feel like a scar. Some scars are beautiful. I had a crescent-shaped burn between the thumb and index finger of my right hand for years. I was reaching into the oven to pull out a batch of cookies while trying to hold the phone to my ear with my shoulder. My hand touched a coil. But that's not the kind of scar I feel like today. Today I feel like the kind of scar that's become numb to the touch - prone to insensitivity. Some nerves don't always grow back quite right after injury. If it's your scar, the desire to avoid another accident might make you preoccupied with yourself, with self-preservation. If it's someone else's scar, it's hard not to want to hurry the process or be hurt when you caress this part of them (be it small or large) and are met with insecurity or worse, no response at all.

I'm interested in people with intelligent transparency - people who choose to be openly vulnerable not out of naivete or ego, but from an unshakable sense of inner security.