I crave your attention
just as I fear it,
wondering: what would you do
if you only knew?
I hear your laugh,
try to coax if from you
as a lover might coax a blush,
while despairing in the irony
that the only gift I can offer you
is the armor
I can’t help but hate.
I hate it as I love it.
I need it as I wish
that I could throw away
all such artifice.
Wish that I could
shed my sword and shield
all for you.
If you glance my way, though,
you might see me,
see a false man.
I fear your laughter
as much as I desire it.
For, if you see me,
you might use that glorious sound
as a weapon against me.


I worship at your feet,
a grateful supplicant
at your holy shrine.
You stand tall, proud,
a radiant prophet.
I taste the salvation you offer,
heavy on my tongue,
and caress the cross
you permit me to hold,
with reverence.
I receive your gift;
my soul singing,
my heart pounding,
my body throbbing
in my ecstasy.
Suddenly, I realize,
I’ve waited my whole life
for this perfect moment
when you penetrated my defenses
and offered communion.
I savor your blessings,
swallowing you down
like medicine for my soul…
Then I wake, bereft,
panting, wanting
and still waiting,
hoping you will see fit
to save me.

Hummingbird Moments

Forever chasing
my hummingbird moments;
those bright, jeweled feelings
that speed up and defeat me
as soon as I reach
my hand out to grab.
Like some clumsy child,
who easily stumbles
over hidden rocks
but struggles through
long, twisted fields of ivy,
I gamely leap after
my fast moving prize,
hoping that, one day,
my hummingbird moment
will stop long enough
for me to touch it.


I never drifted far
beyond my dream;
fearing the open spaces
not bound by walls,
but by limitations.
Here in my four walls of fantasy,
touching the stars is simple,
asking for love is safe,
smiling causes you to smile in turn,
not frown and turn away.
For out there,
you don’t exist;
in body, yes,
but not as mine.
Out there,
you scorned me for things I once said
and long to unsay;
in here, you card your fingers through my hair
and speak the words
that give me faith.
Now, you tell me why
I should choose to live
when living leaves me empty?
So, leave me to my dreaming,
my idol fantasy.
For faith is hard enough to come by
in a world not made
of your reality.

What Time Erased

Time rushes by me
like a swirling cloud.
Iconic nouns pass me by,
a discouraging mass of light and sound.
They were here,
but now they’re gone,
living only on the dark pathways of memory.
These people, things and places
have disappeared only to be replaced,
but the holes they left
cannot be filled with a different shape.
There will always be
a loneliness
and longing
for the familiar roads that time erased.

Empty Rooms

Empty rooms…
Blank spaces, white walls and smooth floors.
Empty rooms I fill with things:
The long strings of unmade scarves,
The books I hadn’t thought to read,
The trinkets never worn,
And ornaments never touched.
Empty rooms…
Filled to the brim,
Still manage to echo with the absence of sound.
Empty rooms I fill with music,
Flat notes I’ve failed to hear.
Empty rooms…
Always living in an empty room.


Seeking validation
for something I know
to be true -
do you see me
the way I see me?
Or have you stuffed me
in a box,
labeled me
based on the false image
that stands before you?
People were not made
to fit,
people were not made
for categories…
But if you must,
please, don’t misclassify me.
Don’t make me out
as something I’m not.
Don’t mistake me.
just tell me you see me
the way I see me.