This Memory We Share

I know this all won’t last forever. There will be a day where you and I must say goodbye and answer to the calling of life. But I hope that you remember what it felt like the very first time. The very first time you realized we were something so much more than just a day. The very first time you realized that we were in love.

I hope you remember the beginning, with all its light and beauty. The way that we just couldn’t get enough of each other’s presence, enough of each other’s touch. We would stay up until the sun rose the next morning; reminding us that the earth was still turning, but its axis was centered between us two.

I hope you remember all those long drives we would take, where your hand rested gently on my knee. The way I’d reach over the center console and cradle your face in my left hand. Even as I type this, I can feel all the warmth and stubble of a five o’clock shadow heating my fingers, my palm. I instinctively clench my hand every time I am reminded of this, to hold tight to the warmth just a little longer.

I hope you remember what it felt like, with your arms circled around my middle. Where my back was pressed to your front in a protective hold that made me feel so safe, so sure, that this would all last forever. How you would do this in a room full of people, just to bring me near. How you would bring your lips down to the top of my head; kissing me like I was the most precious thing.

I hope you remember the beginning, with all its gentleness and full hearts. The way that the world stopped for the seconds we lingered into each other’s kiss- pining away for just one more. I hope you remember all the laughter, all the good, all the happy, all the life. I hope you remember what it felt like- to hold something so real.

I know this all won’t last forever. The day has come and gone where we have said goodbye. But please hold on to this one last thing; I loved you completely, no matter the days, you brought me so much.

I hope you remember the beginning, and find someone’s love, who always feels like it did the very first time- every time, for all time.

-m.j.t.-

“The Hardest Part of Falling in Love”

Maybe staying in love, the fear that you can fall out of it one day, or that maybe you won’t have the courage to leave when the love has already gone.

It’s easy to fall in love, to find someone who is brand new to you, who makes you feel brand new. I think maybe that’s why it’s so thrilling, because you kind of get a second chance or third, or fourth– at finding that happiness that you lost with the first.

You can be a better partner, lover, friend. Each relationship draws out something essential in you- the parts that aren’t so easy to detect on first dates. These are your flaws- the things you don’t want to bare until necessary ; these are the parts that the right person will understand, will love, will treat like your silver lining- the part that makes you so unmistakably, essentially human.

But you see, that’s the scary part of falling, this sense that you trust someone with that very important and integral part of you- and hoping they will catch you when you find yourself there. Suspended in midair; somewhere between loving yourself and loving another.

So again, the hardest part in falling in love? It’s not the falling, it’s everything that comes after. And I still choose to do this with you.
Will you catch me on the way down?

-m.j.t-

Like There’s Only Today

You’re the very best outcome
in this crazy scenario
that we find ourselves in.
I don’t know where we’re headed,
or what we are trying to do-
but right now
I’ll ride this phase out,
this one that we’re coasting through.
Dancing like some fools
in the rain
on the dance floor
and in the passenger seat
of your car.
We’re losing our minds
over getting it all
real good,
real right.

I guess what I mean is that there are no rules.

So lets sit cross legged under lantern lit skies.
Always kiss like it’s the last time.
Say goodbye when there’s no more love.
But lets try a lil’ bit of love first-
lets see how this tastes on our tongues,
how it sits on our hearts,
how it plays out in our worlds.

It’s all the best outcome, I like this day with you.

-m.j.t.-

Twenty Sixteen, This Is How I Want to Remember You

A lot of life happened this year.

Time moved slowly when things got tough, and sped up when it was all really good. I was clumsy with my heart and unkind to myself when I should have only poured love into my soul. Not all moments that were captured were perfect, and all the undocumented ones happen to be some of my favorite. I learned a bit about what we’ve got to do to be happy- with ourselves, our lives, and our world.

Not all things last forever. Not all people will stay. But it’s the things that last and the one’s who do that I will carry with me moving into this next turn around the sun. I stopped waiting. Stopped waiting for tomorrow, for that someone to call, for the next big ‘moment’ to celebrate. That’s when life grew ten fold- when I started, just started something. Started running when I wanted to do a half marathon. Started saying no when I usually would have said yes. Started smiling at strangers more. Started practicing a lot of self love. I learned to stop looking down at the pavement and my phone- I was awe struck at least once a day, by something beautiful.

The music stayed constant, headphones and speakers turned all the way up. I kept on dancing even when all the lights came on and there were no more songs. I sang a lot of ‘Sweet Disposition’ in the shower; thanks Temper Trap. Television got good again, and there were some nights of binge watching hidden in between the days; thanks Westworld.

The news was sad at times and we said goodbye to many people. Loss, loss, loss. We lost a lot this year. People, elections, love, our minds. The human condition keeps moving forward, so we keep moving forward. Disappointment lingered, happiness appeared. The paradox of the last 365 days. So I made space for more patience and change- all good things take time. I’ve got a lot of time, and a lot of good things.

Choices, I made so many of them. Some were wonderful, some were terrible, some were sad. They led me to new cities, new people and new depths of my heart and soul. People are enriching, the stories they tell and the hope they bring. I wove a lot more love into this tapestry of my life, it colored in what was once very dull, very average. I am lucky, so incredibly lucky.

Dreams became reality, fear became hope. Words were redefined this time. With their magic wielding- allowed me to get lost in other worlds, carved out the path to a new career. I wouldn’t know how to be, who to be, without them. Big love and many thanks.

Forgiveness. It’s that simple. Forgive yourself, and forgive others.

I drank a lot. Coffee, tea, water, GIN. Drunk words and sober thoughts all met in the middle somewhere. And this time, I cried a lot in happiness instead of pain. Stayed up far too late talking peoples ears off about the good ole days. I liked those nights, those memories, those people. I owe you guys one, drinks on me.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow.” I said goodbye to a number of things, which in turn brought me something beautiful in the end. Who I am learned to take the time to be selfish. It all came at a price- whether it was letting go of people or places, and the memories they held. The idea and the reality should be one in the same, if they are not, please always remember you can walk away. Especially if there is no more love, love yourself enough to walk away.

Twenty sixteen, you were like a 90’s hip hop song. Far too long, but still so good. You were a ‘Golden Era’ in a time when everything was a little dismal and we were all a little weary. This is how I want to remember you- reckless and wild. And so incredibly important. Thank you for your ways, you brought me more life. Thank you for the days, each one is the best one yet.

-m.j.t.-

 

 

East Coast Lovers

Be my golden hour
The gentle breeze that wraps us in night air
Hands that comb through the fine grain sand
Footsteps left in the wake of the white wash
-the very thing that settles the day.

Be my golden hour
because you breathe new air into these lungs
and I like the sand that settles between our palms
feet press prints like maps leading us home
-the way that we, feel like home.

Golden people bathed in golden light
looks like the world setting itself on fire
I’ll set myself ablaze
if the warmth feels like the way it did
-always like the very first time.

So I ask
Will you be my golden hour?

-m.j.t-

Late to the Party

We’re fourteen and sitting side by side through the days. Lunch, classes and locker life talks are all a blur. We ride the wave of being so young, so unsure of what we’re doing. We’re friends, and I like the way you laugh at my jokes, and the fact that everything is so serious. We aren’t tainted by the people we will both love. We are here and it is steady.

We’re seventeen and the world is bigger now. We make playlists in the cold of winter, but the solid strum of guitars make me prefer this state- a deference for the darkness keeps our bones warm and our hearts beat out to the way Foo Fighters intended.

We’re nineteen and some couple hundred miles away, still singing to the sounds of something sunny. I know we’re still thinking about clever titles for playlists. Thousands of songs fill my stations, but the angst of Paramore still reminds me of you. So we reach out, we hold on, we give it another round of songs that say everything we couldn’t dare.

We’re twenty one, and we know that the world is ours. Separately, we’ve done all we could. We listened, we learned, we kept on living. We sat side by side again, the steady hum of the road beneath us. We traveled through the night, and I was fourteen again. But it was only then, in the middle of a dark room, where the music stopped, and our voices filled the spaces- we poured out our hearts.

We’re aging, slowly against the tides of life. And maybe we’re not ready for it all. And maybe we’re waiting to hear just the right string of words. Just know, I’ll be listening with ears wide open. I got it though, I realized then; I don’t need confetti, I’ll take the party for two.

-M.J.T.-

Ask Me How to Remember You

They’ll ask you things, like “how did it feel?” And you’ll respond with “happy, exhilarated, over the moon” But it was more than that, it was the way that old things became new again, and sharing your life with someone meant that compromise was always a steady and easy “alright.” Because it didn’t matter so much if it was your way or theirs, but that you were together. Nothing was ever boring, and the silence never felt heavy or over bearing. It was more than just the phone calls and never ending stream of words that constantly poured out of you all hours of each day. It was the way that you called them your muse, drawing out colors and capturing sounds with only 26 letters- creating worlds that could go into infinity. And maybe that’s what it was-infinite- a steady flow into each day, feeling as if it would last forever. Tasting the warmth that this could be all the days, for the rest of your days. I hold onto the idea of long lasting moments with you, and every other person I will ever love. Because I am inexplicably drawn to the promising grasp in the arms of always, knowing that there is the possibility in my soul for so much more than here and now. My reality has shifted, and maybe it won’t always be so beautiful, so vibrant, so much. So, how did it feel? It felt like time warping around two souls, bending light, space and gravitational pulls to make sense of something that can’t be explained plainly. It was the back breaking weight of nothing and everything, molding bones into new forms, offering up our most sacred parts to another, lending a hand, piecing together a heart. It was more, because it changed me. And I hold onto that most.

-M.J.T.-

Real Words, Real World

I should have told you to stay, I should have told you that I’m scared to death, I should have told you I loved you -but no one ever says what they mean.

We would all rather be tortured with our love, than to set it free.

I thought about this while I dreamed, and every moment in between the memories.

-M.J.T.

This Season and the Next

I wanted to love you like the fall. The way autumn turns the color of leaves.

From green to red, I’d know you’d feel the passion of all that love. I wanted to be something so natural to you, that you’d feel it innately, running through your veins, just like the roots and those trees.

Blowing through each others branches, like a season that just couldn’t quit.

I felt the same way that hot chocolate keeps your hands from freezing; the steady warmth and promising sweet. I wanted to love you like the entire season.

But the problem with loving you like that, is right after, winter blows through. The leaves fall and slowly crunch under our feet, until they are buried below the flurries.

I chose the wrong season. The wrong time. Maybe the wrong way to love.

So next time, I’ll try the spring.

-M.J.T.-

It’s Always Like the First Time

I thought I met you when I was sixteen. When the world was only captured in the right here and right now. I gave you my love, my soul, and thought it would be enough. But we eventually applied for college, moved out from our hometowns, and that was when the world grew big. Too big for us to love each other, and I realized it wasn’t you.

I thought I met you when I was nineteen. I was a little older this time, living some 400 miles from the place that I learned about growing. We changed each other over the span of four months, and I believed that this could be it. So I let love back in under spring skies and in between the light of the days. You lingered on my my bed sheets for two weeks, and a year I chased a ghost through my heart. I left for home a summer later, and I realized it wasn’t you.

I thought that I met you when I turned twenty one. So much was left to interpretation on the good faith of wine soaked lips. Punch drunk love comes to mind- when I can still feel balmy summer nights running under the faded tan of summer skin. Passion burned for three long weeks, and each day was treated like the last. You are still my favorite summer memory, with you there and me here. Making dinner for one in my new apartment kitchen, I realized it wasn’t you.

You see, it was never supposed to be about you. It was always supposed to be about how much I loved myself in those moments. I could have met a million you’s, but coming home to me feels better. So, maybe this is where I need to start all over again. As the leaves fall, I’ll let the love remain. Meeting myself somewhere between it all.

Realizing, for now, this is enough.

-M.J.T.-