Poetry

Key Holder

There’s a little rack by the door

where the keys are supposed to go

but mine are always in my pocket

with everything else I’d need

in a moment’s notice.

I stare at the key holder, blankly,

wondering why such a thing

is necessary at all

when the other set of keys

is yet to come home

Poetry

Everyday

I want you to feel loved

at least half as much

as you truly are,

I want you to feel loved

like you may have been missing

out on it all this time,

I want you to feel loved

so that you can

begin to know

the same old love

in a new way

everyday.

Poetry

Sweet Deserts

the desert air tastes so sweet at night

when the electricity

kisses the nothingness floating in the air

illuminating the dark skies

with sporadic flashes of brilliance

and when this empty land beneath

welcomes something

it doesn’t know the name of yet

but it will know it when it sees it