Serendipity and a Hurricane

Serendipity and a Hurricane

Once you were a stranger, your name unknown, your story untold.

But there was something familiar in the way your eyes took hold.

Hours and drinks later, your hands were in my hair, your teeth against my throat.

A happenstance meeting right before a hurricane, a history rewrote.

You opened up, invited me into your life, your bed, your home.

You steadied my nerves and stilled my restless need to roam.

In your arms, you filled the empty spaces that were never whole.

The walled off words unsaid, you could always read them in my soul.

Now I know how you sleep with pillows surrounding you to ward off a nightmare.

It’s like you can read my mind, and yet we always lose my underwear.

We eat breakfast together on a lazy Sunday, bacon, toast, and eggs.

You get lost inside my mind and in between my legs.

When we make love, your fingers press into my hips.

You always know before I fall. You never let me slip.

Now your name is always on the tip of my tongue.

We may be older now, but this feeling forever makes us young.

One man changed my view on mankind.

Every insecurity, every doubt left behind.
You never were a stranger, even the night we met.

You were unavoidable. Everything about you was kismet.

Now our story is interwoven. Your eyes open to mine in the night.

Every darkness in my life burst into rainbows, happiness bathed in light.  

Every day, I thank serendipity for that hurricane.

It brought us together, flooded the city, and I’ll never be the same.

Do you still remember the electricity in the air the night we met?
Thunder and lightning and a storm no one can ever forget.
That spark is still between us, a fire in our eyes.
I'm drawn to you like the tides to the moons on the rise.
You were the poem I never could find words for.

The story I could never write, an unsung song at my core.

Wake Up

I started taking something for my depression and anxiety. So far,
it makes me feel less crazy, and I am enjoying the part where I
don't stress out and obsess about literally everything. I didn't
realize how bad it was until now. Before I started taking these meds,
I was in a dark place. A place I've been before, and always hate to be. But
the sun had never been so eclipsed. Whenever I find myself in that hole,
I always call out to my grandmother who passed away a few years ago.
She had always been a source of strength when she was alive, and I continue
to depend on her, even in her death. When things get bad, I remind myself that
Edith Jenkins wouldn't stand for this. I often feel her with me, guiding me.
She was with me when I was losing my mind.
She helped bring me out of it. She helped me wake up.


Wake Up

She buries herself in a porcelain grave,

The water turning pink, lapping at her skin,

The warmest embrace she’s felt in a while.

Last night she scratched through the thin flesh

Of her wrists, trying to pull out the pain.

Searching for a word that no one wants to speak.

For years she’s suffered, silent, motionless

From a sickness in her blood, her brain,

Passed down from mother to daughter, mother to daughter.

She holds her breath until her lungs burn, sinks deeper.

All of it fades, blurs around the edges.

But suddenly her grandmother’s voice echoes

Wake up.

Thank you to the people who stuck by me during this frantic section of my life.
Thank you for not making feel crazy. Thank you for sitting by my side and waiting
for me to wake up.