WhyDid’s Week, February 19

By |February 20th, 2017|Uncategorized|

greenpoint brooklyn window

Lost moments

Maybe laters

Easy routes

Whatever caters

I look to you

You look away

I think to myself

Another day

But that’s the thing

A painful fact

All we have is now to act

A missed sunset

A canceled plan

I say again,

“Hold my hand.”

WhyDid’s Words: Love’s Cliché

By |February 14th, 2017|Uncategorized|

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“When can I see you?”

“Soon,” I said, “but not Tuesday.”

“Why not Tuesday?”
“It’s Valentine’s Day.”
“Do you have plans?”
“No, that’s the whole point.”
He laughed, brushed the hair back from my face, kissed my cheek. “Okay, bella. Not Tuesday. How is Thursday?”
He laughed again.  “For such a hopeless romantic, you are certainly opposed to the one day of the year dedicated to love.”
“It’s a cliché.  Besides, all true romantics know that everyday is just as dedicated to love as the next.  Just send me some roses.”
“No, bella.  Roses are too cliché for a love as unique as this.”

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WhyDid’s Words: Little Deaths

By |February 14th, 2017|Uncategorized|

yellow tulips Personal Journal Entry, 5/14/16

The flowers on my dresser facing my bed, my morning view, were dead this morning.  what a sad, sad, true life analogy.

Two days ago, you were here with me and there was a moment I felt like I wanted to blurt out, “I love you.”  Crazy as I don’t really know you and it hasn’t been all that long.  But the way you made me feel was undeniable.  Something I haven’t felt in quite some time– if ever.  There were times I thought I could go on kissing you forever and even that might not be long enough.

From the moment we met, it was that way.  Ironically, you were the first to point it out.

When I was with anyone else, I felt guilty.  When I was with you, I didn’t feel guilty about anyone else.  That’s how I knew.  That’s when I pulled all of the irons out of the fire.  I felt loyalty to you, though you’d never pledged yours to me.

I almost cried this morning when I tossed the yellow tulips in the trash.  It somehow felt symbolic.  It was also was a cruel reminder that even the most beautiful things are fated to shrivel up and die.  How can something so lovely be so temporary?  I suppose that’s why one should never grow too attached to things that could be so fleeting.

My mom used to tell my father not to buy her flowers.  She hated when they died.  And yet, I love nothing more than a room full of flowers.  So much so, that I’ve never bothered to wait for someone to buy them for me.  They are my little luxury.

I knew that day you were going to bring me flowers and I have no idea why.  And there you were; handsome and tall, standing at my door, patting the dog with one hand, tissue paper wrapped bouquet in the other.

Those yellow tulips lasted longer than the white roses I’d bought myself the very same day.  “A sign!” I’d thought.  And then something changed.  A shift imperceptible to most, like the temperature dropping a degree only noticeable to the mercury of a thermometer.

I should have ignored it.  Kept my mouth shut, but that’s not something this sensitive soul has ever been good at.  My intuition has never steered my wrong, but my big mouth has.

And then they were dead.  And you were gone.

I’ll buy myself new flowers next week.  Some to refill the empty vase, the empty space.

You’ll show up at another door with flowers soon.  A new vase to fill.


WhyDid’s Week, February 12

By |February 13th, 2017|Uncategorized|

whydid kirsten smith

Lost phones
Broken hearts
False promises
New starts
Love promised
Heartbreak delivered
Soft gazes
Bodies shivered
I loved you
You disappeared
Held my ground
Mascara smeared

Where Are You?: All I Need Is You

By |February 9th, 2017|Uncategorized|

unnamed (6)All I need is you and some sunsets…

If you asked my favorite color, I couldn’t tell you.  Just like I couldn’t tell you the name of my favorite book, my favorite movie, or the best album of all time.

To choose means to shun all others.  And there are some days my heart loves blue as much as it does red and when I only want to watch something silly instead of complex or can only stomach the sound of Etta James.

But with sunsets, just like you, I never grow bored.  You see, the sky is constantly changing.  Never forcing me to commit to just one color, but instead inspiring me and aweing me with its magnificence and ability to always keep me guessing.