a museum of endearment: January’s collection of poetry and prose

ode to 2020

on the evening of the 31st,

i saw fireworks on the interstate

and realized

it has become apparent that there is

no right way to navigate this life.

i honor this year for everything it gifted

and removed in accordance with my destiny.


you make all of my fears look like stars in the distance.


you are unsure of where to side:

fate or free will.

destiny or the willingness to choose.

can both exist in harmony?

i say,

our fortunate stroke is proof enough.

every emotion i ever fervently felt—

striking, piercing, holding me hostage

is pale in comparison

to the electricity you evoke in me now.

you sure know how to keep the girl who lives in the air soundly upon the ground.

i hope you never stop kissing my hand because i am grinning like a beautiful fool on the commute to work.

i instantly beam when i wake and remember your existence.

i believe enveloping your nature has taught me not to complicate this life—

and it was only ever that simple.

i could spend forever listening to the river rush with you because

now i understand what all the love songs are talking about.


i arrived under a full moon

from parents who were ever doomed.

my heart and my head

are always at war.

the embankment i talk to the Universe at envelops water, aquamarine.

lately, life is like a never-ending-movie-scene.

if i am delusional, do not wake me from this dream.

one touch, and in love again i believe.

healing love

every guard i have up cowers amidst him.

“what did i do to deserve you?”

i look around to see if anyone notices the prevailing smile upon my face.

poetry dives from my hand into the aquamarine embankment.

was it the moldavite pendant or my own manifestation?

it’s not always complicated

life is meant to be understood,

never controlled.

i am a self-taught healer.

nobody’s daughter, my own mother.

ever seeking an internal balance

with hands tied behind my back by my moon in detriment.

“you are so beautiful,”

he sincerely said, looking into my eyes.

in response,

no, “i’m not,” or, “you’re just saying that.”

just a, “thank you,”

for the first time.


i still don’t know what is happening to me.

i’m back on the ground, strolling curiously

and all i know is

there is no place i would rather be.

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