Xanadu
 

She separates the denim, whites, blues, purples, Delicates, leathers, cotton. Careful not to mix them. Machine never stops spinning Until...

A dress, as beautiful as a California poppy. Her smile, radiating under the sunset, sometimes she wears those beautiful hair clips that...

For you, I’d be the graphite in your pencil. Black smudged on your palm, Back to when you engraved Your first A, B’s and C’s with me....

If I were your pillow within its pillowcase. Unchanging unlike the casing surrounding it. Cushioning your head, keeping you comfortable....

She longs to be the Gates of Heaven, to be believed by me, to be loved and favored, with faith that she will be there forever. As God is...

At times I am the threading of two things into one. A screw beneath the floorboard unseen by the beauty above the wood grain. The...

Forgotten and for granted, dormant on your bed, when night falls, your head will cast my shape. Feathering the sheet, carved around your...

Let me be the sweet creamer in your coffee. Always pouring me in— without me, you don’t drink coffee. I would like to be that essential....

Why can’t I be the soft sand, comforting and cleansing you, keeping the beach renewed and repaired—grainy and constantly changing. The...

The scratches in the bleeding knee after falling from the bike. New shoes that gave blisters, slowly shearing skin. Pain dwindled for...