each night
he comes to me
chartreuse aura
golden souled
slippery smooth
honey coated
coronas of sunlight
glisteny
kissed
passing ship missed
the linger
smell bringer
flat pillowed memory
brushed skin tingle
two spirit mingle
never crashed
wavy lazy hazy
longing
mind tricky imagination
cursing the exhale
there is not a void
no one took your place in me
YOU filled it with pain
subjects buried
never realized
or dug up from the depths of eternity
the stillness
the buoyancy
the ebb and flow of the past present and future
long ago
far away
separated from unity like splintered unmade introductions
washed up
dried up
life crept back into the ever waiting vessel of opportunity
evolving isolation
eyes opening
we discovered the strange neighbor in eternity’s plan
never new
far from familiar
reminders of who we are who were we and who we may yet be
brother
lover
mother
son
daughter
soul twined stranger
here again
to remind me
to remember
do better
be clever
let go with the mated collective love coated hope
never promising
simply stating
live, feel, learn, grow, move, and it will never ever cease to BE
I’m NOT in love right now. I. AM. NOT. IN. LOVE. RIGHT. NOW. I’m unable to grok that. But I accept it. And oddly have a spring in my step.
The majority of my adult life, I’ve been in love with someone. Shit! Sometimes, it’s just ANYONE. Yet here I am, breathing.
In order to fill the space where my mind would wander, I’d like to list what makes me…. feel.
– the sound of thunder
– sad songs
-a child’s voice
– hugs
– the silence only found during winter
– new socks
– getting somebody’s voice mail recording
– an old sweatshirt
– sleeping alone
– the resignation just before sleep
– poetry
-a brush of skin
– flaws
-Buddhism
– cold air
– having a door held open for me
– good morning
– goodnight
– being alone
All the while, LIFE is happening. It’s detailed simplicity. But LIFE…. well, life, is IN the details.
There’s something absolutely liberating about forgetting to care what you look like. Tossing on a favourite sweat shirt, fluff of the hair, the end.
Back home, breathing easy, smelling like freedom, adventure, and teenie bopper bobby socks. I am… me. Giggles and piggles and garlic pickley dreamy cuddle bubble smirks.
I curtsey, and a hat is tipped.
organic of heart
effortless companionship
value versus bulk
“I do wanna say that seeing u cry tonite was amazing…believe it or not…it comforted me so much…u were absolutely beautiful in that moment”
sometimes life writes words more powerful than i could ever fathom penning.
I’ve never been good at waiting. I’ve never been patient. Often times, I give up. Even if it’s important. Just that easily. I quit.
My new found tenacity is part shocking, part surprising. There has been a shift in what I find “important” and in what I want. So here I am… just being here. And I’m actually okay with it.
the space you had is not filled
but it is occupied
by me
i miss you every day
it’s often hard
but i breathe
when i hear your voice, see your face
im back to then
even if i see
my hearts still pounding, and i still pine
for today, each day
i can just….be
seconds
minutes
days
weeks
weak
indifferent
lies
missing
building
hoping
waiting
waiting
waiting
foolish?
I’ve been gifted with volumes of divine complements. Often I would do my modest act in order to disguise my low self-worth. No longer!
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being patient. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for leaving. Thank you for being my rock. Thank you for noticing. Thank you for getting out of the way. Thank you for reminding me. Thank you for convincing me. Thank you for listening. Thank you for telling me to shut up. Thank you for SEEING me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
“You’re the kind of girl that guys write songs about.”
Thank you for allowing me to learn to shut up and say “Thank you!”
I feel like an Empress. I have clothes. They suit me. They please me. My conundrum…my skin.
It’s much too itchy. It’s much too tight. It no longer feels good. It no longer feels right.
My breathing has seemed labored and forced. Not from the life I’m taking in. It’s the hope I’m being enveloped by.
I have been offered a magic bean. If I take it, nurture it, love it and weed it, it grows. From it’s hope flower steps not Thumbalina, but, well…me.
Imagine the opportunity to turn yourself into a REAL GIRL. No strings attached. You can jump and sing and smile and laugh and sleep all the tiring things away. But not the ivory tower trapped type of sleep. The sleep of angels and puppies and babies and people who build dreams for free.
Sound too good to be true? That’s the catch. It’s not. Yet. There’s many fittings to be held. Remember: measure twice, cut once. Choose only what’s right.
My downfall has always been options. I don’t do well with options. So for the time being, my spirit will float untethered, uncommitted, and ethereal. THAT I am comfortable with.
That’s how they getcha… the first time you’re free.
I find it difficult to say “I miss you” if I doubt you miss me too.
I find myself thinking of your face when I don’t know what to do.
I found your voice soothing, and I miss your hands.
I find myself lost, not giving a damn.
I found you.
You found me.
We’re lost.
We lost.
I find that last statement… most true.
screaming down it’s black hole throat
i furiously gasp for air
the feel of scattered cluttered bodies
yet not a soul is there
i dig my nails in the nothing
blood dripping from my palms
sacrificed at my own hand
my tumults replaced my calms
i am not contented
nor am i so sound
you held your pastey hand for me
a phantom push into the ground
resurrected heart beats
fell on self-filled ears
my heart’s wall thunderously leveled in days
what took me infinite years
you were uninvited
and i was tricked and burned
the tears, the trust, the feelings
in fact stolen, the furthest thing from earned
i am done here
i am dead
my wounds drip
hollow heart and head
i’d love to say farewell
and thank you that you came
but my words, i don’t hear
and i forgot your name
It isn’t that difficult to seem tough or unaffected if you know what to expect. This is even simpler if you don’t expect much. The teetering between the great void of feelings and the flood gates… well, there I be.
Lately I feel like a toddler. I’m learning not to repeatedly touch the fire, make sure to look both ways, recognize good and bad people, tell the difference between truth and lies. My standard reaction to this process had been HOW THE FUCK IS THIS MY FUCKING LIFE?! HOW AM I HERE?! AGAIN?!?!
Then I breathe. Then I look at the opulescent shine of my scars. Then I feel grateful. Then I remember love. Then I vaguely recall trust. Then I detect the faint existence of faith. Not faith in a godly sense. Faith in myself, as a machine. I am a machine programmed and designed to LIVE. Even in spite of MYSELF.
This is when I crave freedom. Buttnaked, guiltless, primal freedom. Instantaneously…I AM free. I AM strong. I am all. I am me. I am here. I.AM.HERE.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get lonely. Even as I slowly learn the difference between that and BEING alone, they still feel a bit similar. The time of year, the silent walls of solitude built with snow beckons us to couple up, snuggle in and protect each other. From the aloneness.
The progression of times modern rarely holds contingencies for basic human comfort and companionship. Even as I type, once again the lonely soul at a keyboard, I’d much prefer a hug and a kiss goodnight. The azure glow of Facebook, twitter and other gathering grounds offer no comfort to a heart in pain. The hand longing for a touch. That sole soul who yearns for the validation of their humaness.
Be kind dear people. Love with reckless abandon. Hold a tiny gloved hand. Dry a single tear. Say good morning, good night, and I love you. Don’t wait. Don’t hesitate. Plunge into life… WITH OTHERS
BLACK FROM THE WAIST DOWN 