Portrait of a Woman in Love

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

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