Perception

Relative Time

Whisper when you speak of change

Of new seasons and passing moons

Of brand new starts

Of shifting in hearts

Hold me close when we lie beneath stars

Burning dimmer than they had

So many nights before

The hands of time

The metronome of our hearts

My hand will stay in yours

Until the ticking stops

Nothing, my love

Can be as haunting as clocks

6 Oct. 2020

I had a dream last night
In that dream you said to me
That even when you’re happy
Even when it’s right
Even when it’s love
All things come to an end


Instead of letting go
When the morning light
Piercing through
The final moments of night
Threatened to rip us apart
I drew you closer


I held you tighter

smoke + desire

Your pyromaniacal fingers

Pretty little matchsticks

Igniting me

Illuminating me

Striking against bone 

Smoldering beneath flesh

Denaturing every cell in my body

You are the fire burning within me

The consumption of my entirety

Until I am nothing but parched

Nothing but yearning

autumn equinox

so long i have awaited

a windy autumn night

i hear the crickets

telling secrets to one another

the horns and tires

on the busy highway

i hear the leaves

resembling wings of birds

fluttering away

as they fall

i hear your breathing

however far away

and the beating of your heart

i try to shake the chill

creeping up my arms

making my stomach feel

as though it is filled

with fluttering wings

like it was the night i listened

to the beating of your heart

the chill makes me wish

i was wrapped in your arms

like i was then

but i have waited

for a night like tonight

one where i feel hope

one where i hear life

one where i hear you

once again

sunday morning

if by chance you happen to miss me, which could never surpass how much i miss you, look for me in all the places you left me. i urge you, find me, day-dreaming in bed on sunday morning. our days.

if you’re looking for me, i can assure you, i never went anywhere. i am here, wrapped in blankets and all of your lovely words, listening to the sound of the rain, waiting patiently for your good morning hugs and kisses, your sunshine, and tea to find me once again…

Grandmother

I remember when they told me she was gone, and I laughed. What kind of cruel prank could they have been trying to play on me. I didn’t find it funny, but I laughed, for the sake of the person telling the joke. My grandmother was my best friend and the two arms I felt safest inside of. She died when I was seven years old and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with. Until this point, death had never seemed to be a feasible event. At seven, no one told me that the people I love wouldn’t be here forever. No one told me that not only would people die, they would leave. There are stages of dealing with grief and it took me years to make my way to the final stage of acceptance. I am grateful for the memories of the times spent with her and although she is no longer here, I can still feel her with me. Losing my grandmother taught me that loving someone and losing them is hard, but to love and have been loved is worth the pain of loss.

Nothing could have prepared me for that day. I went home, locked myself into bedroom, and tried to wrap my mind around the concept of death. There was no way she could be gone. I pushed the thought, the concept, the whole day away and made myself think of anything else. I wouldn’t believe that if I called her right then, she wouldn’t answer. I stayed in this state of denial for months. When it was time for my grandmother’s funeral service, I refused to go. I was asked to write a poem or to tell a story about her, and I wanted to. I wanted to tell everyone how wonderful she was and how much she loved me but I refused again, because to do that meant I would have had to come face to face with reality, and much worse, my feelings.

When I was finally able to face the fact that she was no longer here, the guilt of not saying goodbye was eating me alive. This is when I began to write her letters. I wrote her one every day and then released them into the universe for her to find. I also didn’t understand the concept of littering at this point of my life either. In these letters, I would talk to her as if she were still here and we were just having a silly conversation like we used to. Eventually, my letters became more emotional and they were harder to write knowing that I wouldn’t be receiving any letters back. She wasn’t on an extended vacation in a far away land, she was completely unreachable. Although it was hard, I still wrote to her. I wrote to her until I could finally say goodbye; until I could finally let go of the hope that she would be back tomorrow.

It took me years but I was finally able to look back on our memories, and although I cried every time, I was grateful to have them. My grandmother’s name was Inez and my mother gave me her name as a middle name. I was little Inez and she was big Inez, even when I insisted that I was big Inez. I never had a care in the world when I was with her. I remember being happy, silly, and authentically myself. My grandmother made me feel comfortable and confident in being exactly who I was. She would let me dance around in her wigs, that I chose to wear upside down, whenever we had sleepovers. I would sing her songs that were special to me because I knew she would want to know what songs were special to me. I hold every memory close to my heart. She was the only grandparent that I was close to. Most people have four, but I had her and that was enough for me.

I learned lonely at a young age. I lived a world within myself. Learning to cope with loss was a long and confusing road. It was easy to get lost and sometimes the destination didn’t seem worth all the traveling. Eventually, I found myself cruising, blissfully, along memory lane, and I was happy to be there. I spent so many years crawling my way through the process of grieving. I taught myself how to keep on loving, despite the little voice reminding me that one day everyone leaves. I make the most of every moment with my loved ones, because one day these moments will be memories, and these memories will be worth everything. In losing my grandmother, I learned that knowing I’m going to lose the people I love someday isn’t a reason to love less, but instead a reason to love as openly and wholeheartedly as possible.

People aren’t here forever,

love accordingly.

miracle

the scent of you

warm and sultry against my collarbones

i remember how flustered

you would get at the sight of them

how your fingers, grazing slowly

along the length of them

would cause your lips to part

and your mind to spin

i had never experienced

such intimate passion

how you poured your love

into every nook and cranny

of this intricate heart

i lie in bed

finding little pieces of you here

and there

wearing you, on my collarbones

wishing the scent of you

could summon you back

from whatever alternate reality

you escaped to

where your fingers don’t trace my spine

as we fall asleep each night

where I’m filled with so much of you

and you are nowhere to be found

my process of creation:

When I write I think I try too hard to make my writing pretty.. to write something somene else would like to read, instead of just writing what I want to say.. what I want to share of myself with the world. I have been writing for the reader and not writing for my own heart that cries out to be listened to, to be heard for once. I’ve decided today to write whatever it is I have to say. I will work on my skill and my form as an editor when I am ready to edit.. not as a writer. I’ve lost sight of what’s important to my work– the message, not the packaging.

I was going to share this message sooner but I couldn’t even put together what I was trying to say. What I’m saying is that, I haven’t been able to write as much as I wanted to. Along with all the reasons of why that is, overthinking has played a large role in why I haven’t. I’ve decided to simplify my writing as much as I feel I need to, just to get the words out of me. Editing will happen when editing happens. I apologize if my format is triggering to any of you. I’m breaking the box instead of feeling confined to it because I want to give my art a chance to become whatever it wants to become. I hope you all stick around for the journey (:

prompt 2. agony

where have you come from? are you made of stardust, passion, and my own imagination? i couldn’t have possibly imagined you, for you are all the things i never knew i was looking for. all the things i never imagined one woman could possess.

your beauty beyond compare. i could look at you endlessly.   endlessly. sustain me with your humble smile, with your hungry eyes, your silly words. sustain me with the sweet sound of your voice. the savory sound of your sigh. for all i can do is be lost in you.

am i but a silly woman? wanting to be the object of your desire. though you desire all the things that i do not know how to obtain. too much of nothing, too little of everything. your existence, without me next to you, is pure suffering. share your thoughts with me. i am starving to know you. to understand what magic has brought you here to cause me such sweet agony. unable to eat, sleep, or think clearly. i am but a silly woman.

i am frustrated to have found you. you in all your beauty, kindness, and wit. you in all your sultry, effortless charm. i am frustrated. i am starving to know more. where have you come from?

remain open

what was love supposed to be for you? tell me about all the preconceived ideas of love that have shaped who you thought you’d be. everything you thought love would be is nothing i have to offer. but what i have, is worth everything.

this is why you’re going to choose me.

i am youthful. my smile. my sense of imagination. my hope in the darkest of nights. i have been hurt tremendously. i still love.   and love.   and love. i love like a child. forgetting the wrongs. believing the good. forgiving.   giving.

i am soft. soft in every connotation you could imagine. my heart could not fathom impure intentions. i am a lover. lover. lover. i hated the word lover for so long because it’s often a word used to describe a person who you have sexual relations with. i need a word that means more, because my lover, i want to have relations with your soul.

i am a writer. i will write about your lips and how the fullness of them melts into the fullness of mine. how i love the way touching you,   any point of contact, feels like a submersion of me into you. i will write about the way your eyelashes look like butterflies resting on your closed eyes as you sleep. and the way they transfer to my stomach as your eyelids open to look at me. i speak in lyrics more than i do words. i write more than i will ever be able to vocalize. my mind is chaotic. words flying around in circles while i stand below trying to catch the ones that fit just right. the ones that make your eyes real enough to melt into when i read about them once again.

i am a hoarder of memories. like the way you smelled the first time we met. the feeling of sweaty palms the day you didn’t let go of my hand. or that monday in may, we devoured two pots of coffee and danced in the kitchen all morning long. my mind is a record player, constantly spinning, the sound of your laughter– your bliss. an endless soudtrack playing in the background as we snuggle into bed on cold nights. induging in the nostalgia, and one another.

maybe your ideas of love aren’t as neatly packed or clearly outlined as you believe them to be. it’s possible you’ll find what you’re looking for in someone like me. maybe remaining open to feeling, falling, living, will yield a happiness even you could not foresee.

prompt 1. introspection

i am all alone

once again

i spend my nights

lying awake

contemplating the present

trying to forget the past

daydreaming about the future

not certain of anything

but the understanding

everything is just

as it is meant to be

sweet boy,

i didn’t have the words for you. i barely had them for myself.

even if i did, there’s so much you didn’t know. you couldn’t have understood any of this. why my heart was breaking. why my legs were shaking. holding you in my arms. for the last time. watching my pain  manifest on your face. you were almost my son. i wanted to make you proud. as proud as you made me. with nothing but your smiles and the songs your heart sung. your optimism and your love, not yet jaded by this bitter world. i wanted to teach you things. things you wouldn’t have learned from anyone else. i wanted to share what wisdom i have with you. for we share a softness that the world will want to harden. we have a glow that the world will want to dim. life has a way of ruining things, before they can even begin. i wish, if not for more time with you, to relive every moment with you in our memories at least once more. or at least an infinite amount of times. then my heart will never have to break.

and you will never have to wonder   why i’m not there now.

to the writer

writers don’t drink to find inspiration

writers drink because  writing  makes  you  drink. writing makes you want to forget. to be a writer is to be vulnerable and to let other people see you at your lowest point. whether that be empty, regretful, chest bare, humiliated, bleeding, begging  or barely breathing. being a writer is brave. it is not work for the weak of heart or those who hide when their demons call their names from dark corners. when trying to write about certain times in my life, certain experiences, it rips me apart. it breaks my heart over and over again. one would think writing is a form of masochism. reopening every wound that has ever pierced my flesh or scarred my soul. writers drink because after the words reach paper, sometimes we are still left with nothing but pain. nothing but hurt. not just any hurt. old hurt. hurt that has had time to become a part of who we are. hurt that doesn’t go away. hurt that we thought we had forgotten. that we tried to forget because forgetting is the only way to keep on living. if just one person who reads these words feels a sense of comfort. comfort in knowing that they are not the only one. comfort in knowing that they are not alone. it makes all the pain worth it. and i will rip my heart wide open for you. over and over again..

to be a writer is not work for the weak of heart.

star-crossed

i miss you  everyday, but i’m not going to call. believe that it kills me not to everytime i remember your exquisite face. the way your eyes captured me. i want to but there are so many reasons why i can’t. why i shouldn’t. we see the world in varying perspectives. my perspective still shifting. yours seems to be as well. we are like magnets  pushing eachother away when we get just close enough to admire one another. if we were living in a different time, our paths may not have crossed. star-crossed lovers, in a strange sense is how i see you and i. ironic. all those night staring up at the sky together in awe. i just wanted to make you happy. but making you happy, it wasn’t making me happy anymore. you aren’t hard to love. that came easily. what was hard, was feeling lovable to you. i shouldn’t have had to try. no one is at fault. we just weren’t right for eachother despite how much I loved you. despite how much i planned for us to work. my planning made you uneasy. your blasé approach made me anxious. my anxiety frustrated you. your frustration hurt me. my hurt made you feel guilt. i would never write badly of you because when I think of you, i usually remember all of the good times. all of our jokes. all of our exploring. the way we would stay up all night cuddling between conversations on the couch, when we were getting to know one another. i think of our dinners. our dates. our time spent together, happy. you won’t feel like you’re too much of anything for the right person.

they’ll understand all the things you don’t say.

i wish that I could have, for i truly loved loving you. but you deserve to be happier than i could have ever made you. sometimes i forget but..

 

i deserve the same.

A,

our lives may never intersect again,   but this isn’t goodbye.

my experience with you felt like traveling in time. traveling  back to a place that i could have belonged to. in love with you. your fantasy felt more to me like my past life. a reenactment. you think you dreamed me up but it was i who summoned you. it’s so peculiar, all that you are. all that you were. all that you have yet to become. i, so much like a cat and curiousity is killing me. when it comes to you. i want to know everything. you are the greatest mystery of my life. the puzzle i will no longer try to solve. one day i will understand the meaning behind you and I. until then, i think i understand as much as this. there is a reason for everything. we’ve done unforgivable things to one another. yet, i forgive you. you hold a very special place in my heart.  i may have been a sentence in the story of you, but you were the prequel to the story my heart will someday tell. the story will exist because you still exist within me.

 

 

brief encounters with beauty

fierce and excitable. she is one with the wild and i am in awe. artistic and skillful with her hands. she looks like a kid in a candy store, when she touches me. her touch speaking a language we are both fluent in. she is  fun. the kind of fun that makes you exhaustless– makes you feel invincible. my sadness never stood a fighting chance in her presence. her energy so radiant it has warmed the very core of me. she is everything i want. a rebellious spirit. she makes me want to live for today. for today with her. she sees me. with dark pools of brown sugar and honey eyes. i’m on the highest of sugar highs. she is a giver. though i know she’s given so much already. she has been hurt. i want to ask her things. and i understand. she may answer in words i have never heard before. still, i want to know everything she wants to say. study the language of her spirit. her smile draws people in. her heart   keeps them coming back.

carman

i hate life for being so unfair to you. you have the purest heart. you make my world poetry. you make the hurt pretty.

you should’nt have to.

my tears come too easily when I think of what you’ve been through. i can understand why you feel you can’t keep going sometimes. i feel selfish for wanting you to try. the way you fill the world with such beauty, the way you make the shitty parts of life feel bearable for me are not fair reasons to ask you to stay with me. you share a part of my soul that no one else could. i wish i could protect you from everything.

disappointment. deception. loss.

one day, i pray that the sun will burn so bright and radiantly that it reaches the depths of your soul and cures every pain you have ever felt. that sounds like a fairytale and that’s not what life is like, i know. but you are too soft. you are too lovely. i hate this life for trying to taint your magic. i hate this life for being so heavy. you did nothing to deserve pain. and still you dress it up and make it beautiful. you give it a deeper meaning, a greater purpose.

you have made life lighter for so many.

your magic still amazes me every day.

you shine brighter than the sun in my eyes.

And I, blossom

You are a ray of sunshine

And I, a flower stretching outward

to bask in your ethereal beauty

A drop of dew glistening amongst the light

You are the light

And I, a fluttering honeybee

indulging in sweet floral nectar

You are honey

The sweetener of my days

And I, with a drop of your viscous love

am in a jovial, blissful daze

 

Song of the Insomniac

Wide awake

The earth spinning within me

When the moons rises from her rest

I transform into the universe

A collection of galaxies

Behind my very own eyelids

You hold me in your gaze

And watch me glow

From so far away

Above stars

Above dreams

Above ache

You waltz with me

To the sound of my insomnia

Revival

You came back

Flowers pressed

To your lips

A heart full of promise

And empty hands

Prepared to catch me

This time around

You came back

Treading carefully

Through my wreckage

Picking up the pieces

That shattered

When the door closed

Behind you

You came back

A shelter for my hope

A guiding light

For my wandering soul

You came back

And your lips

That once tasted

Of skepticism

Of anger

Left traces

Of certainty

Of affection behind

With each kiss

You came back

Restoring wonder

Within me

Wiping tears

From my cheek

Taking the pain

And whispering

That you missed me

You came back

Open-minded

As nonsecular eyes

Allowing the world

As you see

To be seen

Through mine

You came back

And not only

Do I see you

I see love

For the first time

Soft Intentions

Be gentle with me

I am fragile from the past

I am fragile from tomorrow

Touch me with softer intentions

Than you’ve ever touched anyone

And this is the only way

That I will melt within your palm

Be gentle with your words

My heart was stitched up poorly

And the seams are worn

Stretching my hope too regularly

Believing in too many ghost

That only came to haunt me

The moment I thought they were gone

Be gentle with my soul

For it has seen darkness

And invited her to tea

My soul found beauty

In creaky floorboards

And mysterious silhouettes

Lounging in destruction and emptiness

My soul has loved darkness

And things I love

Have stayed with me

Long after they had left

So be gentle with my love

Share your light in my dark

Light a candle when you come home

And find me within the shadows

Becoming one with the night

Be gentle with yourself

Because you deserve softness

You deserve love that comes and stays

You deserve encouragement

You deserve tenderness

And I will be gentle with all of you

Because I have the softest intentions

My hands will always

Be pillows for your heart

And my body

Will always be a warm home

Welcoming your love

Writer’s Paradise

Where have the words gone

My inspiration seems to be on vacation

Fine dining with barely enough time

To soak in my surroundings

Washed away to a deserted island

To a paradise

Too perfect to capture in sentences

I am speechless

When her arms are around me

I lose myself

Within her gaze

And all thoughts cease

All words languish

Blissfully unaware

And wonderfully lost

In a world where dreams

Don’t measure up to reality

And reality is really

As good as it gets

Life Without You is –

Sleeping alone

Not being able to sleep

Because I am alone

It’s sleeping next to strangers

Who will only ever be strangers

Because they’re lying in the mold

Your body once placed

On the left side of my bed

It’s numbing the pain

In any way I can find

It taste like

tear flavored wine

Ice cream in bed

Insatiable cravings

That leave me feeling

Empty

It’s lying to my family

It’s saying, “I’m okay”

It’s lying to myself

It’s wishing I could lie

to my friends

It’s remembering the smell of you

The look in your eyes

The way your lips curved

Into a smile

When they met mine

It’s forgetting the way your lips curved

Into a smile

When they met mine

And forgetting, again

to forget about you

It’s not being able to listen

To happy music

because it makes me sad

Or sad music

Because it makes me sadder

It’s the voicemail that I keep

To hear your voice

When I can’t bear the torture

Or fight the urge to call you

One last time

It’s living half alive

It’s living with sadness

Because I left my happiness

In the pockets of your sweater

It’s your sweater

I wear to bed

To make my heart feel warm again

It’s a hopeless feeling

That I’ve learned to live with

Without you

Ma lune

Each night, I rise and fall under you. You are the light I’ve been searching for.

 

Silent Matters

Words sound so different

When they’re spoken

Rather than felt

Losing magic

As they enter the world

So let’s be silent tonight

And speak to each other

In the movement

Of hands

And hips

Of tongue

And lips

 

Home

It’s been so long

Since we’ve been here

And still

Your sheets mold against my body

As if I had never been gone

Your arms wrap around me

As if you had never let go

And my eyes could never forget the beauty

Of watching yours dream

11/11:19 – Faith

All the spirit within my bones wished you back into my arms

With each wish

My bones ached a little more

Porous and full of shallow hope

I dreamt of the day that wishing wasn’t all I had left to believe in

Like an answered prayer

You returned with a heart full of grace, angelic,

Emanating a magic I never knew I would believe in.

 

suffering female hysteria

“Don’t think too loudly

Speak too proudly

Love too wildly

Hear too soundly”

The things they’ll say, when they’re afraid of your magic 🖤

When Love Returns

Love will one day return

Better, happier, sweet

Love will say “I’m sorry”

Love will face defeat

Love will want to make changes

Lie flowers on your pain

Love has learned the art of patience

Love has changed her name

Love will ask forgiveness

And understand it may take time

Love will reach for your hand

Love will nurture your mind

Love will tell you

“I’m not perfect-

But for you, love, I’d try”

Mistakes are things we all make

But love will not tell you lies

Love will one day return

When you may have thought her extinct

Love will say your name again

And the sound will make you sing

Love will say “I’m here to stay,

and prove my love to be true”

Love will return the pieces of your heart

And stitch them back for you

Spring Dreaming

my eyes they strain to stay open

in the peace, and quiet

that’s finally arrived

the wind sings lullabies

that mimics your breathing

from the sun shadows dance

over each closed eye

lilies put on a show

plie-ing gracefully in the wind

baby blue birds stealing glances

at their precious new friends

and me, I’ve began to cherish

the little pleasures in life

like the distractions of a book

and the warm spring sunlight

The Big Bang

All of these things

That you and I leave unsaid

Are as numerous and as haunting

As stars

Curious little things

That burn holes into my mind

Like the universe

I want to know you

The vast beauty

And light

that encompasses

The whole of your soul

Like the universe

undefined

And incomparable

To any other form

That exist within my realm

Awestruck

Shattered

Craving

But understanding I may never know

All the things that ceased to exist

To create space for your radiant presence

Because things so disturbingly exquisite

Maybe aren’t created to be understood

But are here to evoke gratitude

The Last Sorry

Sorry about me, I say

Sorry my words drop out of my mouth like grenades

Sorry I come off stronger than I like my morning coffee

Sorry my feelings are icky, sticky, sweet like syrup

Sorry my heart has such a mind of her own

And my mind is so submissive to her

Sorry I write about you

Like I’m writing some kind of holy text

To be studied

To be cherished

Sorry

For apologizing for who I am

The words running from my lips like a tic

Over and over again

Like an excuse,

Like a suit of armour

Made out of cotton

Getting stuck in my throat

Sorry I apologize for who I am

Sorry

For the last time

Soft Reminders

All your words

And all that you are

Is magic

All your thoughts

And all of your dream

Are endless

All your feelings

And all of your tears

Are valid

All your pain

And all of your troubles

Are temporary

 

Phantom

Your hands

I feel them

Like phantoms

In the shadows

Of every lover

After you

Their hands

Yours

Caressing the sides

Of my neck

And your grip tightens

In the darkness

You live

To touch me again

To remind me

 

Everlasting

I wrote myself

Into my favorite love story

The one I’d dreamt of reading

The one I’d feared to believe

I left little pieces of my heart

in every page

Passion laced ink

Tainted every word

With raw desire

With fearless emotion

To be read again

With hungry eyes

The ending

I was never prepared to write

As my pens ran dry

I used my blood

To write another page

To keep my spirit alive

I wrote my soul away

To preserve it

In a beautiful piece

Of literary fiction

The safest place

for my hopeless heart

There it stays

Locked away

I’m still trying to decide

Whether I’ve captured my love

Or cursed it

To live within a story

That I cannot find the words

Deep enough

Heavy enough

Or sweet enough

To conclude

 

Cynicism

The moment you left

I could feel the sadness

Creep into my bones

Like the first cold day of winter

Like early onset arthritis

Like April showers

That become thunderstorms

Like the chilling presence

Of a darker spirit than my own

Something felt innately different

About my soul

My perspective

Transformed

Into something cynical

Something skeptical

Something sad

Something painful

Something like an ache

That won’t go away

That has made a home

In the places once reserved

Only for you

Your sacred temple

My very own heart

Infiltrated by the enemy

Sadness

Resides within me

And now I have to live with it

The uninvited guest

That has overstayed their welcome

And you opened the door

Unlatched the lock

Made your leave

Without a second thought

About what would claim

The space I’d saved

So faithfully

For you

 

Botanist Heart

If only I could pick these memories

These feelings

And press them

Between the pages of my heart

Like flowers in a scrapbook

 

Dark Magic

My nights

haunted by the remnants of memories

casted away by spells

spells not strong enough

to ward off the spirit of you

that creeps,

parasitically

within me.

Gestures

Her words, her actions—

equivalent to receiving a bouquet of flowers on my doorstep

every single day

 

i to u – internalized homophobia

the temptation you wish you could resist

the dreams you wish you could forget

the wrong you wish you could right

the sin you wish you could fight

the softness you wish could be hard

the heart you wish you could return

the tears you wish not to cry

the desire you wish would just die

the love you wish could be hate

the truth you wish weren’t too late

the i you wish you could love

the answers you search from above

 

 

 

 

The Lies You Lie With

one day you will awake/regret piled atop of your lungs like rocks/you will close your eyes again/you will dream of yesterday/of any other day than today/lies will wake you/lies will say everything is okay/what are you waiting for/why do you hide from life/what is wrong/lies will ask you/you will look at your reflection with his/and it will look familiar/but it won’t feel familiar/you have spent your nights lying with lies/but now/there is something behind your eyes/desire/you will say i love you/lies/like a fraud/the words echoing throughout your heart/it will be hollow/lies/you will hurt/ache/lies/he will try to comfort you/you will wish/for a second chance/for a life of truth/for an escape from guilt/for a life worth living/free of lies/tomorrow you will wake up/lies breathing against your neck/you will wish that yesterday/instead of lies/you had chosen truth.

Escapist

You can find me, gazing dreamily into gallery windows in the middle of the night. Chasing waves, the moon, dreams until the sun begins to rise. Losing my sense of sentience as I lie below the stars.

Book Review|Fingersmith – Sarah Waters

Where to begin. 

This plot took me on a rollercoaster! A rollercoaster of confusion, pain, joy, and love; I am feeling so many things. I am in love, in awe of the storyteller that is Sarah Waters. I didn’t want this story to end. It begins with the backstory of two girls living two completely different lives. In time their stories clash in a way that neither of them knew that it would and as the reader, I experienced all of their innocence and guilt, all of their emotions and surprise, along with them. I remember time and time again while reading, feeling completely stunned by this twisted and delicious plot of romance and betrayal that kept me on the edge of my seat. I’ve read a few novels by Sarah Waters such as The Little Stranger and The Paying Guests, and I have never been disappointed by her work.

Beautiful, dark, and lovely.

Fingersmith – 10/10

The Photograph

Sitting on my bedroom floor
Rummaging through an old box
I come across a photograph
I hadn’t seen this in years
I could almost smell my life at the time
A sweet aroma began to invade my mind
The smell of our favorite amber candle wax
Sugar cookies baking in the oven
I could feel everything all over again
The warmth
Radiating from the stone fireplace
And from your hands holding onto mine
The sound of your milk and honey voice
Reading to me
From my favorite poetry book
It had been years
But it felt like yesterday

I sit and stare nostalgically
At this long-lost memory.

 

A Question for You, Who Was Always Enough-

Is this for now or forever?
I ask you
You, with packed bags
You, with unloving eyes
You, who once did love
You, who never answers me anymore

Do you still love me?
I ask you.
You, who never wanted a commitment
You, who committed to me
You, who doesn’t know what she wants
You, who once wanted me

What do you want from me?
I ask you.
You, who doesn’t think she deserves
You, who doesn’t think she’s worthy
You, who is sorry
Who is sorry
Who is sorry

Is this for now or forever?

I’ll miss you.

 

Hopeless

My heart, made of fairytales and wishes, is much too pure to exist outside of books. Much too soft for the reality of this world.

The Prophet

My words come to me like prophecies
I cannot fathom the freedom they hold
Through time has come to show me
In the rubble and rubbish – they’re gold

My words are like the stars
Guiding me through every night
The lighthouse to save my drifting soul
The energy I have left to fight

When daylight comes, and I arise
My words are there like prayers
Dreams have been lost and hope has been shattered
But my words, like tires, are my spares

I’m not so alone – I’m a book of my own
I’m living every word that I dare
I must write my way into a better state
For my prophecy is what I declare

Honey-coaxed

No one ever takes the time
To take a dip beneath
My honey coating
My sweet, sticky layer of bullshit
My greatest defense mechanism
For shallow hearts
I am too much time
And too much energy
Too deep for this world
Who wants everything
and now
Sometimes
I am too much for myself
And I have not yet completely
Pieced together
An understanding of who I am
Beneath the layers
They all seem to adore
But grow bored with
I long for someone
With a mind deep enough
Dauntless enough
To dive
To hold their breath
To search for me
Within me

 

Mr. Owl

How many tears does it take
To reach the center of my pain
It’s been months
My nocturnal companion
Will I ever sleep
Through the night again?

 

Boundless Love

When she closes her eyes
The world that she’s known
fades away
She is warmly welcomed
Into a dream
Of a lover who makes her feel like
She’s never seen the world
more clearly
With closed eyes
She’s running fearlessly
on tightropes
Battling the demons
That you have invited
Into her mind
With a sword carved and crafted
Out of love
And hope
And dreams
Her eyes are closed
But her heart is wide open
She’s breaking down the walls
That you have built around her soul
Smashing wildly with precision
Removing every tiny
Lingering piece of self-doubt
That you thought
you could tuck away
Inside of her heart
She’s extracting them all
With a steady hand
What a brave, strong woman
her eyes closed
her heart free.

Risking It All

I am just another one of my unfinished thoughts.
Maybe this is the reason that I cannot fully understand who I am.
I am a page torn out of an old journal.
A page with just enough potential to save. To-
Finish later.
I am the first two chords in the chord pattern of my favorite song.
My favorite song, that I’ve never had enough patience to learn how to play.
I am the luggage from last month’s vacation,
Slumped in the corner of my bedroom, untouched.
I am the 8,006 unread emails in my inbox,
That I’ve been too overwhelmed to deal with.
I am a victim of my own inability to commit,
To follow through, to take a risk.
Because I may fail.
I may fail.
So I am a record, that never gets to play side B.
The makeup that doesn’t get removed until the next morning.
I am a collection of unwritten words, of unsung songs,
And unexpressed feelings.
So here they are.
I may fail.
But I will be whole.

 

Flower Girl

Her lips, those of roses
With soft and delicate petals
Men, women, and butterflies
would be nervous
in her presence

Her beauty- I’m unsettled
I could melt within her gaze
Her nectar sweeter than honey
Dripping from my lips
A sugary glaze

Her fragrance, what debauchery
I’m disoriented, intoxicated
Euphoric
To breathe her in, such heavenly sin
One might call it metaphoric

Flowery, magical girl
Your beauty, your soul,
it blooms
You fuel the sun within the sky
To shine, you inspire the moon

I’ll paint, photograph, capture
Her lips in shade of rose
The soft unfolding,
Blossoming
The truest art one knows

 

The Haunting

I could hear the sound
Of my heart cracking
Echoing
Throughout the silence
Of my bedroom
Throughout the hollowness
That is my body
Without your love to fill it
As you lied next to me
I wanted to beg for help
I wanted to run
Or maybe to stay
Really, I just wanted you
To care
To feel the reality resonate
To hear the sound that haunts me still
Vibrating through the floorboards
Piercing through the blackness
That swarmed between our bodies
And realize that a part of me
Was dying
Right there beside you
In the stillness of the night
If only you had pulled me closer
I needed you
To resuscitate me
To save the part of me
The part of me
That once wished to be saved

 

All My Words are Hers

When I write for her
I write with passion
In hopes that she will feel
The weight of my heart in eve-ry
Sin-gle
Syl-la-ble
And when the words I have spilled
Touches her tongue
They’ll taste like honey
Honey that I have scavenged for
Like the perfect word to describe
the way her smile makes my heart
want to beat again
hopeful
they’ll taste like wine
the warmth of my love
will consume her
with every sip of the words
from my lips
to hers
they will taste like chocolate
like her favorite guilty pleasure
with all of the pleasure
and none of the guilt
she will indulge
in the passion of my words
because I write
for her

  • I write for you (6-26-17)

 

“Good” Morning

She sits and sips her tea with me
The sharing of pleasure so easily
Secrets whispered through honeyed lips
Sweetness coating our fingertips

Slowly sipping the morning away
We wish that time would stop and stay
She draws me near and tells me twice
Mornings with you, such warm entice

She likes her women like she likes her tea
Warm and sweet, and brown like me
Our days begin and end the same
Her heart near mine, two cups to claim

An Ode to my Heart—

Hello my heart/fountain of wishes/wings with a halo tattooed across my lower back/youthful child/spinning in a garden of daisies/lying on a bed of roses/wearing a flower crown/a tiara/a Snapchat filter ring of hearts/I know you’re lonely/I’m sorry/I should have apologized sooner/I’ve been hiding from you/under my blankets/in glasses of wine/in pints of beer/in hazes of smoke/I’ve been evading/afraid of being alone/because it’ll just be us/and how can I ignore the way you pound under my skin/you cause my head to spin/my soul to hope/every time that we are alone/asking me questions/that I just can’t face/whispering her name/throughout my veins/I was weak/and your strength/your resilience/I always marvel upon/I just wanted to protect you/please heart/forgive me/I’ve been treating you/the way that I’ve been feeling/alone in a world full of people/wanting to scream out for help/but my lungs can’t handle/the weight of my pain/so nothing comes out/I’ve taken your voice/like life has taken mine/the quiet is numbing/I know you long/to feel/you are valid/you are important/deserving of happiness/I would be nothing without you/so thank you heart/for never changing/for not giving up on me/when I gave up on me/the most beautiful piece of me/everything that I have to offer/is contained within you.

I wrote this long before I knew how much I would need it and hopefully it reaches someone else who needs it as well. Focus on what mends your heart… what feeds your soul 🌱

The Currency of Life

Everything in life cost something
And I’ve become conditioned to ask
“well how much does it cost?”
But what about the things we pay for
With a currency other than a few US dollars

How come we never ask what it will cost
To be a woman
What it will cost
To be unapologetically ourselves
What it would cost
To be anyone else

Excuse me,
I’d like to know the price of pure happiness,
Please.

Maybe we just assume
That if we aren’t using money
It must be free

What is the cost,
Of being so naïve?

 

I’m Exhausted

Dreaming of resting
Without dreaming
Because lately
My dreams
Leave me restless

 

Warm Beverages

My cold hands
Gripping the glass
Pressed to my lips
Suckling down warm tea
Warm-
Like your love used to be
And I became an addict
Withdrawing
Searching for that feeling
In every smile
Every hug
Every word
Every mug.

The Language of Hands

Give me your hands
I will trace a map of every freckle
Every scar
And every inch of skin
That only wants to know you
And I sigh
In reply to your touch
The sound of hello
An introduction
Like none before
Your hands speaking the language of love
Whispering, “enchantee..”
Making up for your lips
Too busy
Too occupied
For the pretty words
Your hands
Perfectly say.

 

It Comes in Waves

What’s more calming than the waves
On a night like this under the moon
And how could I feel so blue
When my heart glows like fireflies
Could you ever understand how I feel
My emotions are the sea

I get lost in the sea
When my emotions crash around me like waves
I can’t escape what I feel
Not even under the luminescent moon
My thoughts, they flutter like fireflies
Your eyes lose sparkle, they’re fading blue

These things they come so out of the blue
Like forgotten items washed up by the sea
Burning holes in my mind like fireflies
When it comes, it comes in waves
And it changes like the phases of the moon
That’s why I can’t trust what I feel

But would anyone trust what they feel
When everything makes them blue?
I look up at the moon
Searching for answers, I look down to the sea
Cause I’m stuck in its waves
And I long to fly away, like the fireflies

My feelings aren’t as fleeting as little fireflies
And I can’t explain everything that I feel
There’s more to me than just smiles and waves
Even a lilac sky can turn deep blue
Don’t you see, my heart’s the sea
Rising and falling each night under the moon

And I’d give you the moon
Or a thousand fireflies
Just so you could see, in this sea
Of my emotions, it’s real what I feel
Even though I’m often blue
And as inconsistent as the waves

The moon is as big as what I feel
Even fireflies sometimes glow a beautiful blue
Some days I’ll be out to sea, caught in the waves

 

Gallery Girl

(For my muse 💌)

Can I tell you a secret?
Talking to you
Feels like walking through a museum

I always leave inspired.

The Explorer

I want to dive into the deepness of her soul. Wash up on the deserted island that is her heart. Never to return again. Lost within her mystical, uncharted territory.

Forecast

When your knees are trembling
Like an earthquake
Is raging
Through your entire body

Please
I beg you
I’d love nothing more
Than to be your support
To be your crutch
To hold you up

When your eyes
Are teary
And by teary
I mean
A meteorologist decided to name a hurricane
After you,
My love

You can cry
On my shoulder
I will guide you
to every destination
Imaginable

When your mind
Is roaring
Loudly
Piercing
through the air like thunder

Come closer
I dare you
Let my lips
drown out the sound
Completely

And when you’re feeling
Unbelievably empty
weightless
Like the wind
Unable to settle down
Unable to keep your feet
On the ground

I promise you
I will fill every hollow hole
That I find
Within your soul
Until you feel that you
are whole

You are a storm
Within a woman
And I,
I have always loved
Getting caught
In the rain

 

Coffee Thoughts.

I love you like the last sip of coffee. Never enough, I always want more. I love you like the book I keep re-reading. Finding new, little details to admire each time I come back to you. And I come back to you again, and again. I love you like my pen loves paper. Ink flowing from my heart like an ocean of feeling, like high tide during a hurricane, waves of adoration. Beauty learned to exist through your radiant example. And through your example, the stars light up my darkest nights. So, I love you like the night sky. I’m forever in anticipation. Eagerly dreaming to gaze into the ethereal glow, that I only find within your eyes. You are a dream that I don’t want to forget, so I’m eagerly writing you down. Every little detail flowing from me. Waves of adoration, each time I open my eyes. And I re-read these dreams, until my last sip of coffee, which is never enough. Wanting more of you, to get me through the day. But, I love you like the night sky. Glowing brighter than the moon just knowing, I’ll see you tonight.

Synchrony

You’ve woven yourself
Around my soul
Like wild vines
Growing vigorously in the forest
Every inch of you
Connecting
Intertwining
Into every inch of me

Until we’ve become one
Impossible to separate
Unable to distinguish your limbs
From mine

You are a part of me.

Fiery

There’s a light behind my eyes. It’s my soul burning bright.

It takes a special kind of person to know what to extinguish,

and what to ignite.

hopeless romantic

She desires to get lost in the romance of dusty books, vintage albums, and pressed flowers collected by lovers of the past ⚘

The Architect

Her art is the kind that keeps me up
Throughout the night
Perplexed and overwhelmingly intrigued

The walls that she builds
They are more breathtaking than the temples
Of ancient Greece

These beautiful structures
Constructed by a goddess
With wine painted fingertips

I wonder about the treasures that lie
beneath the surface
The ones she feels that she must keep sheltered from the world

I return once again today standing before these walls
Wondering if I will ever know
What hides behind the elaborate exterior

I search for a key
Though I can’t even seem to find a lock
I scream out secret passcodes, but I don’t think anyone is listening…

OPEN SESAME?
PLEASE, LET ME IN…?

I try to climb to the top
Though I fear I’ll reach the heavens
Before I ever find my way over

She must find me silly
Or maybe even as bewildering
As I find her art

While I knock and listen for a reply
My ear pressed up close
My fingers probing frantically for even a crack

The walls that she builds
They are under-appreciated masterpieces
Too beautiful to demolish
So strong that it’d be pointless to try

But I will forever be an admirer
Of her craft

She Loves Me, Not.

And I feel like a little girl again

Removing the petals

One by one

Whimsically

Hopefully

From the third flower I’ve picked

Praying that this one

Will be my happy ending

 

Strange Magic

I am a curious mind

She is a locked door

I have spent countless hours 

Playing “escape the room”- 

I am a pro

She is a treasure chest 

And I may be terrible at reading maps 

But I’ve stumbled upon gold 

She is from a completely different planet 

But I have longed to escape this world 

For as long as I can remember 

She is rare 

She’s confounding 

Beautifully strange 

And of all the confusingly wonderful 

Things about her 

My favorite-

She is mine