Dear Mom and Dad,
This is what happiness looks like. Sorry you were so miserable in your own lives that you couldn’t allow me a chance at my own. I went out and found it anyway. I miss you, and will miss you even more this holiday season since you won’t allow me to come back home unless I have a woman on my arm. Oh by the way, we’ll still be using the family recipe for the stuffing, I’m sure it’ll be a hit with our friends.
Your son, his boyfriend, and our spoiled cat
this deserves a million notes omfg
crying at how amazing this kid is i think he just won the cute-a-lympics
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You often hear
that in life,
there are no second chances—
But why is it that
the third times the charm?
Or that if you have a good idea,
you don’t give up on it after the first try—
because all you’ve found
is 10,000 ways it won’t work.
And maybe you’re not Thomas Edison but—
I was hoping you’d give this light bulb another go.
You see, I’m tired of the flickering
the we were almost there but not quite
the way the wire glows orange even though it’s not white hot
it still sizzles, it still burns, it’s still fire
You can feel it, the way the warmth seeps into our fingertips
when we touch—and when we touch
we ignite, and there’s no stopping the slow burn
of 2 souls that are meant to be.
And maybe we’ve messed it up one time or two times
or for this lifetime, but baby
we’ll find each other in the next
and however many that follows
until we get it right.
Love is a science.
The study of the compatibility of chemicals
the way bonds are formed
and shapes are interlocked.
A good scientist knows results aren’t published
after 2 trial experiments
They are the culmination of
repetition, repetition, repetition,
until you cannot say
that we were wrong.
Take my hand
and we will overcome
the criticism, the skepticism, the mysticism
as to why we should not be together.
Because I’ve heard there are no second chances,
But the third time’s the charm.
Thrifted Transformations | Ep.3: “Pretty in…Turquoise”
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1. The night you told me to turn off my bedroom light—
you said trust me—
and I used your voice over my cellphone
like a lighthouse guiding my ship to shore.
We talked until the morning sun
crept into our separate windows
and like a thief our hearts were stolen.
2. The way you smell like victory off the basketball court.
Kobe Bryant in purple and gold,
flying toward the rim,
the last resort artillery—he manages to win most games.
You were always my number 24.
My black mamba.
Your smell, a super hero cape,
blowing in the wind behind you.
3. How you wore your smile like a 1st grader on picture day.
You didn’t care much for fashion,
but you smiled like a child in his Sunday’s finest.
And it’s resilience—
as though you were 6 years old and
you didn’t know the world was an unkind place.
You said it was because of me—
but I could never fathom being able to spark a smile that
shined more natural than a California sunset.
4. You said I was beautiful in soccer shorts and a ponytail.
I felt more like the son my father never had than his eldest daughter.
But you made me feel like a princess
with my hair pulled back,
an old sweatshirt on,
and dirt beneath my fingernails.
5. When we first kissed,
you held me gently,
and with your lips allowed me the freedom to ask for more.
I never felt rushed,
or forced to do anything I didn’t want to.
Spiderman and Maryjane,
ain’t got nothing on us.
6. Sometimes I dream about her.
Her eyes, large, framed with sooty lashes,
soft rounded baby cheeks
and a smile made for the Hollywood Hills
—just like yours.
I believe, in some parallel universe, we are together and happy, and that is why, in this one, we can’t be.