You are a choice
that I made.

You are a choice
that I made
and then chose
to keep on making.

I am a choice
that you made.

I am a choice
that you made
and then chose
to keep on making.

I forget sometimes.

I think you do, too.

We are a choice
that we made.

We are a choice
that we made
and we choose
to keep on making.

And we should
act like it.



There are lots of reasons why you’re number one, not all of them sexy, but you’re the only one who makes the choice. Which (thankfully) gives me no other choice.



Once upon a time
there was an
average looking princess
who lived ⅔ of the way
to the top of the
tallest tower

who became accustomed
to the fact that she was
not the oldest
not the wisest
not the prettiest

not what she was
expected to be

which is sort of
laughable really
when you think
hard on it because

what could you expect
from a princess who
didn’t ask for this
and wouldn’t have

even if she was
given a choice
in the first place

and why wasn’t she
you may wonder

but princesses
are born that way
already in
their towers
with chains around
their ankles
and no way out.

Even the ones
who are average looking
and only live
⅔ of the way up.



It’s working,
and so the muscles
in my abdomen
are taught.

All the easier to feel
the tightness take over
when the familiar sensation

of “don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry”
fills up my chest and takes hold
of everything I pretend to be,
to add insult to injury
and remind me.


This is getting old.



Your name keeps
coming up but now
it just makes me
laugh out loud.

And then I laugh
even harder at the
thought that hearing
your name could
ever make me laugh.

Then I cry from
laughing too hard
and my smile is
at its widest
when I think,
“Your name keeps
coming up but no
matter how high
you fly I will always
be flying higher.”

And then I laugh out loud.



I am thankful
for the way
you keep me
on my toes.

For the frustration
you invoke when you
give me exactly
what I want
without explaining
how you know I want
things even I don’t know.

For all the times ‘
you ignore me
just long enough
for me to
forget about you
then crawl back
into my mind
and perch there.

For the joy
that bubbles up
every time you
hold me solid
and cinched
to your side.

I am thankful
for your expanse:
be it physical
or mental,
and the way you
draw me into it
and lay me down
upon it as if that
is where I should
always stay.

I am thankful
for all of you,
and that most
of you couldn’t
say that this
poem wasn’t
about you.