Tag Archives: love

― to the Sharp-faced Boy
Ryan’s house, when I was sick

The light from your cigarette
looks good on you,
but I’m not sorry when you put it out.
It is too cold for smoking
and the stench enters my lungs
like a mad dog barking.

You give me blankets and a choice
Soul Caliber or a movie –
which movie? Start ‘er up
and settle down in the cold room.
But your smile and your eyes are friendly
and those are more than enough reasons to stay.

I’m sorry for being somewhat worried
every time you open your mouth,
but your clever head has a habit
of spewing boiling water at me.
How many times have I had to look for aloe
after a conversation with you?

But I have missed this person who
talks and laughs and listens with an
air of interest. We’ll stay away from
God, though. Dangerous ground I wish
I were brave enough to attempt. Wrap
your smarts around something else, please.

Movies and music and books – you
are avid and opinionated (that O’Neal coming through) – spark a
debate littered with swapped insults and mock offense.
I will have to learn better slurs
if I want to keep up with you – your mind
leaps ahead of mine like a loosed kite.


Did you start that fire to show me that
you care? That’s what I’m thinking, but you
never say it, and these little gestures are
almost too sporadic for hope. But you let me borrow
your movies and ask before you smoke in
my car – is this a brother’s way of saying

“I love you”? Well, in any case, come over here
and give me a hug. Smart boy that can’t keep your
brains to yourself and dotes more on a cat than on
any person I know. Don’t look at me like that –
stand up straight, and try to remember,
however sappy it may be, I love you.


This is a poem I wrote a couple years ago for a poetry workshop at USM. Found it tonight going through some old files. This was the first draft, and I’m pretty sure there’s a rewrite floating around somewhere. Didn’t look for it, though.

I should work on this poem again. I mean, I’m one of those horrible (and very occasional) poets that gets stupidly attached to their first drafts, and don’t ever try very hard to edit/rewrite. And changes I do make tend toward the superficial – a word here, a word there. Rarely anything of substance. Bad Charity.

But even I can see that this poem has some problems – awkward lines, jarring sounds, super sappiness. Definitely gotta cut back on the sappy.

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Masking Affection: or conversely, Baring One’s Soul to the Internet

“If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely- a slight preference is natural enough: but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement.

~Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

What a smart woman Jane Austen was. I think I can easily say that I agree with Charlotte Lucas in this passage. And I definitely fall into the category of someone who tries to “conceal her affection.” Apparently that is silliness.

As is, I suppose, the hard-to-shake conviction that there is somehow something somewhat shameful in liking someone.

Apparently I am quite the silly-head.

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Oh Where, Oh Where Did My Confidence Go?

Can you lose something you’re not sure you actually ever had? I don’t know. But it is, of course, possible that at one point in my life I had more confidence than I do now. Maybe. In any case, if I had it, I’ve pretty much lost it, and I wouldn’t mind getting even a smidgen of it back.

~ may you fly free in your heart with confidence and joy ~

Confidence, or rather, self-confidence, is something that most people struggle with, I know. I don’t want to sound like I think I’m the only person that has ever doubted herself constantly or is thrown into turmoil at the smallest unkindness. I know that it is not unique to me. But this is not to say that it is in any way something that should be dismissed, because it is something that truly affects me every day.

I probably have more to say about this, but I have lost my train of thought. Something about how terribly easy it is for me to believe myself of little value to anyone around me, and something else about crying jags and loneliness. I don’t actually know that it would be all that interesting, so I’m just going to leave it at this:

What frustrates me most about my feelings of worthlessness is that I know that I am worth something to God. That Jesus saw me and the whole mess that I am and still died for me and loves me. And I know that even if I were alone, truly and literally alone, in the whole world and the only person that did love me was God, then He would be enough. I am not alone and there is a good number of people that care about me and believe that I am worth time and love and care. It frustrates me that even with the love of so many people, even with the love of GOD, I still find it hard to believe myself worth anything.

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