ink stained skin
will serve to remind me
of the days we spent
loving one another
while the rest of the world
raged against us
Dear Lady Like Me,
I sense your urgency dear. I can see the disquiet in your eyes. I am acquainted with the taste of tears.
I want you to consider something… At this stage in life, aren’t we all a little broken? Set aside any finances, success within your career, or anything you’ve measured as an accomplishment. After all, you know that I am referring to emotional fiascoes. We all have a scratch and dent aisle, I assure you.
Why then, must you insist on having the “perfect” companion? If you find yourself to be middle-aged, unwed, and perhaps a bit resentful, isn’t it safe to assume, a likely partner may harbor the same short-comings?
It was there, in each imperfect moment of your li...
A dismantling of visceral barricades.
Fearing poli synthesized malignant stockades.
I need you to want me.
Not in silence, but rather, love me out-loud.
I will recoil at your subtlety.
For my skin is rigid and my heart even more unyielding to all that is artificial.
Cut me deep.
Melt inside of me.
Make me feel it fierce and hear it whole.
Deliberate, small increments, of loud, urgent love.
So that when we kiss, you might taste jubilant tears upon my tongue.
And notice gratitude, in all my subsequent smiles.
There are no guarantees in life, this I know. So, it's only fair to assume this notion extends itself upon the borders of love as well.
(He) was given an unwritten set of rules during his vulnerable youth. No affectionate expressions spoken against his innocent ears. It's had a lasting affect. All relativity altered, diluted.
It is difficult for me to constrict my feelings. It feels corrosive, unnatural. He never says, "I love you". He never speaks tenderly. There are no compliments offered. No such thing as assurance or distinction to set me apart from the rest. Definitely no reciprocity.
I fear this love with not die a natural death, but will instead remain unfed. It will wither and star...
The first time I saw your face, my soul quietly whispered, "he's the one".
Or maybe thats what I wanted to hear.
I know what I felt. It wasn't just because I had been so lonely, for so long. No. It was simply because I noticed something beautiful about you. It was more than just your eyes or the half smile you were wearing. It was deeper than that. I guess it all sounds like a stretch now.
In my relationships past, I was just me. No pretentiousness or caution. Just me. I found myself to be different with you. More methodical. Tip-toeing. Fearful that anything I might say or do would chase you away. I guess in fact it did. On more than one occasion. So much for being careful. I wanted you ...
Sitting by my open bedroom window.
The breeze is surprisingly refreshing,
despite the dusting of snow received
last night. Road noise and assorted birds, provide a lovely morning melody. I live for these quiet moments. Coffee in one hand, pen in the other. It is the only time I find myself free of worldly responsibility.
The children still nestled in bed. Not an ounce of sibling rivalry, the usual bleeps and bloops of video games, or the bells of social media to interrupt the morning hush. A train is now traveling thru town, the familiar whistle blows as it reaches the bridge marking the boro line. Its piercing call reminds me that, this me time is only temporary. Soon, everyone else in the h...
I am a contradiction, an anomaly. My soul full of thunder, equally as much as it is sunshine. I am spontaneous, yet grounded. How can this be? I suppose forasmuch as I am purposeful in my plans, still I am wired without hesitation
for the next adventure. Each memory that has led to this very moment, a field full of unharvested promise. Why? I never wait to see what morning will bring. I have a habit of out-running chance. I admit, I have always enjoyed the way precariousness tastes.
Curled up amongst this feather filled heap,
Im wrapped cozy in your flannel.
I hold myself together with your scent,
left behind evenings past, and the expectancy of memories yet to be made.
I miss the mellow comfort of your arms love.
I guess my own will have to do for now.
Your sweet, come hither smile...
But then, you laugh, oh that laugh...
Love drunk on you.
I lay beside you, naked and flawed;
barring all the physical and emotional scars, that may have indirectly lead me to your arms. You selflessly embrace them, as you draw me near. Your touch gently whispers, this is unconditional. Your kiss, tastes like forever.
Your biggest blunder...
Allowing the opportunity for another to make me smile.
A series of inexact sentences
strung together, that is what we are. Accidentally independent. You, of course, are always the simple subject. And I, the indirect object.
There are countless things in this life that are inevitable, I am powerless to control them. The Sun will rise and set, the tide will come and go, the seasons will change, and the caterpiller will transform itself into a handsome butterfly. Somehow, I feel reassured by this though, because many other things are so transient - so momentary.
You are my Capistrano Swallow. And one day, you too will fly away, leaving me to love only inevitable things...
I am unapologetic.
Yes, I suppose I am.
Perhaps you did nothing incisive that caused me to take leave. Certainly you did nothing to extend reason for me to stay.
Are you unapologetic for being self satisfied? Yes, I suppose you are.
Guess that makes us two peas in a pod after all.
Most love letters are born in absence. A way to fill the void and curtail the ache, when time and miles separate two hearts.
I write to you now, as you lay sleeping beside me. Because, you deserve to know that I desire you just as passionately, even when you are near.
I do not need to feel a certain discomfort, to know that I appreciate all that is you.
Regardless of where you are...
I write, simply because I love you.
just a little slower...
thats it, you've found the key
impromptu an interlude
Humans are social animals. Inherently, we desire attention and affection. It is not a choice. Love is required to attain and maintain a certain level of consciousness. The unseen intricate fibers of our DNA, demand it to be so. As it is on an individual level, so too is it symbolic of the whole. Love is an expansiveness of divinity. On this plane, it is necessary to avoid a greater, less intimate upheaval. History has shown to us, when empires of old reached a peak in intelligence – specifically endorsing the fruitlessness impression of basic human interaction – they did indeed collapse upon themselves. I beseech you to reconsider, allow for us to nurture one another as it is intended...
My Dearest Daughter,
All things that live, must in time also parish. Its is the natural cycle intended and thrusted upon us. There is a plan, believe the nature of its course is set to teach you, not impede you.
It is inherent, that you have come to love what you know in the flesh. But when the time comes to let go, you must let go. It is predetermined by a source sublime.
I too weep for your loss. I will be here to comfort you. And I will do my best to help you understand, that separation is as temporary as life itself.
I love you.
My belly filled with butterflies, as I studied your technique. You stood just out of reach. To keep me guessing I assumed. Those deep cerulean pools spoke for themselves however, giving away your most fastened secrets.
Teasing me, you stepped closer. "See what you do to me?" With that, I wanted to pull you in, breathe you in. I opened my lips, but only a silent invitation protruded.
How is it you heard me loud and clear?
You embraced what I had to say
not with you ears, but with your hands.
My voice, my song, interlaced
with your fingers.
You drew them near your heart,
as if to pull them inside, in the most
unconventional way. And you held them
in place, where they were most needed.
with a crooked smile,
you tipped your hat
and said, "my lady"
in response, so too did my heart tip,
completely right side up
all that was wrong...
suddenly seems right
You are like a butterfly.
So many colors. You have morphed.
Evolved. Its wild...
with moon-drenched smiles
and sunshine eyes,
your ever shifting rhythm and rhyme
revolve around my
with his beautiful smile...
...trapped in his kiss...
oh those virulent lips
I would much rather be slave to those words I let slip out and plow into you, than a master manipulator of those left unspoken...
I have decided to write. Sleep won't come. And thoughts of you won't let me be. The sun has gone down and the house has grown quiet. I could do many other things, but my heart wouldn't be in any of them. I fight a great conundrum this night and every night, but until we are together, I know it will be so. I could go to bed, lie awake, fighting the urge to give into foolish anxieties. Or I can busy myself with menial tasks, until my eyes burn, and my head aches for the coolness of the pillow.
It is no secret to you, what my choice is. Only with pen in hand, nothing is menial. It is a necessity. It is my portal to you. An alley stretching between my heart and yours.
Staying awake until th...