I never let anyone
touch my face
before you.

I’ve swatted away
my own daughter’s
small, starfish hands
too many times to count
because it felt
so gross and wrong –
an intimacy meant
for someone I hadn’t
even met yet.

But when you
put your hands on my face,
stroke my cheek with your fingers,
brush my lips with your thumb,
I close my eyes
and melt into your touch.

Maybe you were made
to touch me.

74/365 – A Poem a Day For a Year

I know some think
I should be more cautious,
but I love
the way I love.

I’m all in,
off the cliff,
diving in to love,
and the scary
beautiful crazy thing
is that nothing
can save me now.

50/365 – A Poem a Day For a Year

if there ever
was a time
to be drunk
on love for you
today would
be the day,
and I am

45/365 – A Poem a Day For a Year