Coast Highway

You are avocados and cheese, you are gnarly head wine, you are in every visit I pay to the beach, Atlantic and Pacific. You are schwinn and trek bicycles. You are a 27 foot Catalina, in fact all sailboats embody a bit of you. You are hands that tell a story, and sushi nights. You are late night walks over bridges and fairy tales. You are americana and two shots of espresso, green tea no sugar or water added. You are love that gives his last cookies to his girl. You are hippie tree in the shade of purple. You are butterflies and sailboat rides. You are poetry and all the pebbles of Trestles. You are wildflowers and daisies. You are foot spray and harbor walks. You are "stop and smell the flowers." You are old toyota mini vans and skateboards. You are in every wave I see and all the paths that lead to them. You are the sand that sticks to my flesh and the salt I taste on my lips. You are back packs and organic fruits. You are beautiful tears and late night lullabies. You are red wine and french fries. You are strawberry milkshakes and MY missing symbiosis. You are warm brown plaid sheets and hatch open kind of nights. You are the hand i'm missing, and the smile I fiercely love. You cheeks....You know. You are elves and star dust. You are the buttermilks and the Happys. You are stoned in a hot tub, floating. You are the laugh after the fat lady calls me gross. You are a bagel and orange juice. You are in every chocolate cake from Carl's Jr. You are cute feet in the bathroom stall. You are Coast Highway and I will always be driving to you...Driving to you...

When I write...

....when I write, I write to you...

Her/story...his/story

I remember being in the court house wedding room, holding his hand, him looking back at me...blue eyes. I could always tell when something meant anything to him, but this moment, he was feeling it for the promises we were making to one another. He was loving me and loving us and who were were meant to be together.....
             .....A picture, this picture. Means nothing to you, but it's a feeling to me. It is a moment in my life that capitalized on a time in my life, on the feeling of where I was, what I was going through and the pain and confusion I felt then. I remember looking down at my running shoes, I remember the rain drops on the pavement, and the lights from the passing cars along the beach boulevard and the flickering of the lights from the pier, behind me. I remember seeing a fire, and two lovers, old, holding hands, sitting in the dark, in their beach chairs. In love?  are we ever in love, truly? always? or are there moments that seem perfect to us, and at that moment, nowhere else we'd rather be with nobody else, could we hold hands with? I ran until I was out of breath, I ran until i felt the sting of life, take its toll on my lungs that were gasping for more air from this cruel world. It is a sad world, one where we hurt the ones we love and hold on past the point of no return. We pretend that there were moments so beautiful that they are worth the pain, and the fear. We say that the kiss on the bridge meant something. That when hands are grasping onto someone so tight, that they are saving us. That his eyes were bright because of me, that he looked at me as if I was the only girl in the world…because he was so in love…how awful I am to believe that it was real. How sad it makes me feel to know that I once thought those feelings, so true. If i could be bleeding on the beach, bleeding out our life, how could he surf the waves so effortlessly? Never looking on shore to where his love lay, dying inside, and showing it on the outside. lost in a haze of medication and anguish. The sun was so hot that day, but it didn't matter to me if my skin burnt to dust, I was dying inside, and that night, pieces of myself left with a small heart. Somehow I still lie there holding onto him, wanting his love. He lay asleep unaware or just didn't care, to know I was a shaking mess in the hands of a dirty world, in the bathroom of a cheap hotel, bare feet on a cold floor. Unaware of the damage about to begin….Never ends

San Juan

it was wild, our time together was wild. The heat of California's dry summer, San Juan Capistrano and your white t-shirt. You wouldn't let my hand go, why'd you let it go? And seemingly it's all my fault, sometimes I break down because it's "my fault" sometimes I can't get out of bed because it was all my fault. How was I supposed to drive back to the chaos as if it was going to all be ok? And now it's my fault all over again. I can't bare to think of you broken and lonely. It hurts my heart, you might not believe it, but it destroys my happiness in the moments I think of you letting go…finally letting go…Were we ever supposed to let go?  Sometimes I go about my life as if I'm always going home to you, as if you are waiting at home for me.  Home? Home???? Is there such thing alone, without you? I'm without you. We broke our marriage, we broke our promises…So what does it mean to you now when I promise to you that I'm sorry? What does it mean to both of us when we say we miss each other? What does it mean when we both say, this time…it would be ok? It was wild, our time together was wild. My hand was always in yours, and your lips always my home.

Moments...where I've felt something...alive

Just let go girl...

                      I miss you, I miss how you had no fear of being alone. I miss the girl you were when you had 60 dollars to your name, living out of your car with nothing but a surf board and a prayer. How you laid on a picnic table on christmas day soulfully alone and you found joy in that. You felt loved more abundantly from God himself, and the two of you talked that day. He showed you the sun rays touching the pacific from the cliffs of San Onofre, and it was brilliant. I admire you for leaving behind everything to openly understand your love for a boy that told you the timing was wrong. I miss the nights spent wasted away in your car when you put on layers of clothes to keep your eyes tight  so that the cold air didn't wake you from your dreams. I am so happy for the broken days when you had nothing but yourself and the people that you would stumble upon. I hold dear the conversations with strangers, how their thoughts opened your eyes to someone else's reality other than yours. Scars kiss us all and you understand that better now. I wish I still had that green journal that you would write in when you felt lonely. How you would talk to God and look for the best in "all of this" I miss the miles that you drove to get away, when looking back I realize that they brought you to yourself, to your own heart. I remember the day you went for a run, because you felt so lost. You stood at the edge of a cliff on Newport's Coast on a restricted shore line, threw your arms in the air as the sea gulls drifted by past you, as the cliff dropped off drastically at your toes. I love how your thoughts told you that those sea birds told you to jump, because they knew you believed you could fly. Just let go girl, let everything go. I love that you learned to never judge a book by its cover, that the blanket that covers the body, never will cover the soul. How you found beauty in the echos of the voice from the man you met at the laundry mat, speaking of the love he has for his wife "back home" how the miles only open his eyes to the brilliance of true love, he was reading war and peace. I miss the cold showers outside in front of the ocean, thank God for such a beautiful view to distract you from the cold air. I love how you seemed to meet people that helped you in ways that you are unable to understand, and the ones that told you that you have helped change their perspective in ways so differently. How God sent you a beautiful Italian man, on the day you felt homeless and un-pretty,  that stopped by your  surf spot and told you how "bella" you are, kissed your cheek and left. I love that he couldn't understand you, and you couldn't understand him. I love that your heart still never lets you forget february 5, and for reasons I believe to be the meaning in "all of this" For the loss of love showed you what love was truly all about. I love that his love holds your hand still when everything seems to be wrong. I love how the California salt air kissed your skin goodnight as the train tracks at trestles were your lullaby. I love how you followed a dream in hopes to better understand what this world is all about, how it speaks to us when we don't even know it, how life hands us tests that are terrible and hard, but I know that you are even grateful for the worst of it. I will never forget the Carolina nights and how they were the start to the journey of who you are, the harsh pain of a reality based on a love that consumed you, and through it, bettered your soul and the girl you were meant to be. For in the dark storm, now you know the rain was not detrimental, and you will always love the rain and appreciate the storm.

              Darling, you'll be ok. The past is yours, and the future a gift….Just let go girl, let everything go…..

Love at first sight, on a cold winters night

I spent a few winter cold nights in Yosemite for a birthday of mine, some time ago. I went with a lover. He was kind to take me to a place he knew id love, and for that, I owe him many thanks, for introducing me to a love that would last a life time. The wilderness, California beauty, wrapped up with Sequoia trees and water falls, not to mention the face of half dome. It was a cold evening that would lead to a cold nights sleep. I went into our tent to put on more clothes to meet  my lover in front of a fire being shared by all the misfits of the village camping out in camp 4.  I remember the night and how it was about to take over the day. The light from the day was saying good bye and making way for some pretty amazing star shows. I opened the door to the tent, zipped it up behind me and made my way to the fire, and there he sat, in a maroon hoodie, khaki hiking pants and flip flops. Black hair and a beard to match his rugged nomadic look. And at first sight, I fell in love. Although I have never known him outside of those few days, I will carry his spirit with me, always. I believe there are people in this world that we instantly fall in love with, even if they never share our bed, they are in our hearts. How he spoke to me, and how he looked at me…how he looked at me, with beautiful dark, mysterious eyes, captivated me like a fairy tale, sharing the same heat from that hot fire…I wanted to know him, inside and out. I wanted to hear his story, and what made him who he was. His hands, I wanted so badly to touch, but couldn't. He slept in a hammock, tucked in his sleeping bag, under the tress and stars. What lucky stars to see such beauty as it sleeps.  I saw him differently as though he had words that would resonant within me, that I would carry and cherish. His views his morals, his adventures he spoke of…Wrapped themselves around me, and held on…His last name…Byrnes…and how his lasting impression burns within my being as the fire that we shared, the fire that reflected in his eyes, the fire that I felt inside…Love at first sight, in camp 4, on a cold winters night.