Coffee & Make Believe

Living life off of love, lies, and lattes.

Category: Uncategorized

Three Words

I couldn’t say it. I tried, but my non-committal habits silenced me, as much as I wanted to shout it into the almost-morning. I kissed him again instead.

“I have to go,” he half-whispered, reluctant to pull away. But he didn’t pause as he started walking towards the gate, knowing that his will to leave was already too weak.

I stood on the deck, watching him disappear. Click. The gate door closed. Footsteps fading. I reprimanded my inability to speak my mind. How often did I want to tell him, and how many chances I had lost. Now he was leaving for his trip, unaware of my plans to leave him in my past. This was my last chance to tell him, one last time.

Climbing down the porch steps, running barefoot in the dirt, I made it to the gate door and whipped it open, ready to run to him, stop him, tell him. But he was already out of sight. The moment had evaporated, and disappointment filled me like lead. I heard his car engine ignite in the distance and, defeated, I closed the gate door and walked back to my house with nothing but a heavy heart and muddy feet.



“You said I killed you—haunt me, then! Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”


This is still going on.

Drunken Conversations Vol. I

Nothing was said for a few seconds. We sat there comfortably, in silence, in darkness.

And out of nowhere, he said it.

I wish I could remember for the sake of the story if I was already looking at him, if I was leaning my head on his shoulder, if he was already looking at me quietly but complacently. Thoughtfully.

But I can’t remember, and I guess that’s what this new series of blog posts is all about.

His question took me off guard. I never expected him to address what we were doing, or initiate a conversation about it. I never expected to ever talk about it with him. Not really.

But he said it, and I looked at him, unable to really give him an answer, not because I was in shock (partially) that he brought it up, but because I really didn’t know what would happen.

“This is going to end badly, isn’t it?”

A Muse of Great Catastrophe

I’m getting tired of writing ones about you.
Maybe this will be the last.
I’m just so sentimental,
I don’t want to let you go.
As a physical person in my life, I know it has to happen. I accept that.
But as my inspiration, I’m not quite ready…
I don’t think I ever told you, did I?
You were the reason
I started writing again.
Something about you,
something about us.
Our storybook romance,
our lack of want for a relationship,
our undeniable chemistry.
It was you.
And it was me.
And it was what we were together.
Years I went without pen to paper, and suddenly,
one night at 4 in the morning,
I just couldn’t stop.
You were the summer,
I was the night.
We were a dream.
Fading fast, like those Florida sunsets,
but oh, how we colored the sky,
and the world around us couldn’t help but watch.
Everyone could see something
strangely beautiful
as they watched us burn.



I’m not sure what it is, or how to be it – all I know is that it’s something I haven’t been for a long time.

Sometimes it’s forgotten about and I’ll ride out a wave thinking that I’ve found it, that I’ve become it, and I’ll just bask in that warmth, either lying to myself or living in sweet ignorance.

Everything is okay.

But other times, the gentle waves become a tsunami that I wasn’t ready for, and I struggle to stay afloat, to keep swimming until I can find land – something to hold onto. It always seems that when these tsunamis occur, storms pour down from above, and sea monsters try to tug me down to their depths below. Either way, I’m drowning.


It’s been a few years since my last blog post, but the idea of beginning a new one has been growing on my mind for a little while now. Unfortunately, the thought only comes in that weak state of mind before I give in to sleep. But it’s now or never.

I decided this blog is going to be primarily for me, and anyone else who wants to read it, but it’s not going to be something I force myself to do, to entertain others, because when you add routines and schedules to something recreational, then it’s not fun anymore. And I need this platform as a release, more so than I care about others reading it. So, here goes.