Fine Line

I borrowed my dad’s tool set because it looked cooler than the ones we had in class. I turned each screw as hard as I could and swung the door panel a million and half times to make sure it was loose enough to open but tight enough that no baby birds would fall out. I painted it robin egg blue and posted it proudly in our backyard. It didn’t take long for the bluebirds to find it and for me to become fascinated with their homemaking progress. Twigs turned to nests, nests to eggs, eggs to waiting impatiently for squeaky mouths to feed. But it turned out that I didn’t have to wait long because the neighborhood boys came along and threw every last one against a tree for sport.

And that was the day I learned the difference between love and apathy.


When I am blue
Come tickle me pink
Warm me till I’m crimson.
Your eyes so green
Look into mine so grey
Make me feel the whole color prism.

Candles flicker yellow
Dancing on sheets of white
Our shadows move in alluring blacklit
Your kiss of soft lilac
Meets mine of hard amber
Your taste like the whole color pallete

Breathe out whisps of silver
Take me up to stars of gold
The colors all blend and glow
Lick all that’s rosey
Craddle my fushia
Paint the ecstacy of our rainbow

He loves me

He doesn’t love me only

When he lays me down to bed.

He loves me when he drops everything

To come see what has me and our daughter

Laughing hysterically.

He loves me when he gives up his time

So I can have some of my own.

And most of all,

He loves me

When I give him reasons not to.


You’ve marked me,

Whether you see it or not.

Words can’t lie when

They make the fabric

Of who I am:

A tapestry made of you.

Should I unravel…

I know you will be the stitch

That holds me together.

We’re more than tied.

We’re woven.