Tag Archives: inspiration



Missing you out in this field of separation

All the things so jumbled.

Both of us boasting our indifference.

The clutter of emotion and memory.


Your deafening arms across my roadmap skin.

Oh, the fires you light there, and speak guttural languages to my bones

How can I survive the heat, kilns igniting my heart?

Every faith, sewn upon your hands with determined fingertips


When every movement is the sound of your voice

When every thought is borne of your happiness

When the caress of your skin is branded upon my body

When the taste of your tongue is a maze upon mine


Oh memory, oh the sweet longings of love

The hope that broke me in two, my soul a victim

How starved you must have been to feed upon my tender heart

What a hurricane I have become


Given Dreams

Given Dreams

Preparing everyday for you to go

Hopes taking shape of a lie

While I fall deeper into your ocean

With the passing of suns


Summer drew up like water into a sponge

Fall settling like dust again. While the

Whisper of your name withered upon

My crimson lips, my teeth biting down on its form


In my mind, you must see me, miss me

In my mind, I was a golden treasure you hoarded

I was a blaze you need to warm your bones

Let the forest burn, your decision worthy


But instead, I felt forgotten. Like the fog

Lost and thick among the branches of ghosts

Eerie and quiet and strange with music

Messages too old for you to understand


And yet, I sent my dreams to you, oh fox

Wanderer of histories, rogue of tomorrow

The dreams I kept in a box in my cage heart

The skin of my soul


I gave to you my red cloak, a desert wide

A sail boat washed ashore long ago

The fierce deafening wind, and my strange eyes

My perseverance.


I gave to you my golden wolf eyes,

My clever mouth and sharp ears

The stillness of the forest, the bugle of the hunt

My wildness


I gave to you my long dark hair, waves upon my back

My white dress among the mazes of trunks,

Just out of your reach, out of sight. A house in the wood

My innocence


But I woke to find my bed cold and large

When suddenly you were a stranger that held all

My secrets. And having given you my dreams

I sat empty and alone, wishing for tomorrow.


What more is there for my arms now, but time

Once filled with your smile and broad back

Now just the ticking of a clock too loud

Every moment turned from waiting for you, to hiding.


I’m supposed to ignore the ache of agony in my chest

I’m supposed to let go, since I knew it would come

Since I am a girl practiced at being grown up. No longer

Peter Pan, just wishing for the hook to slip between ribs.


And so the day goes on, it does not miss you as I

It knows nothing of the emptiness

What shall I fill with it? The quiet seconds of pretend?

What will fit in that space of sorrow for lost things?


You were never mine, so what rite do I have?

But losing you broke my heart, while I held

My breath, because the dead do not cry.

And I was just a hollow shell, full of the brine.


The absence of you became the pull before

The tidal wave, that crashed down on my heart.

But the pain was dull, for I had known that you

Were nothing but a distraction for my wandering eye.


I’ll get over you, perhaps tomorrow. But until then

I am stuck here in this longing. A longing so deep

For something I don’t understand. Why the wind

Keeps blowing people away but not me




What of tomorrow? What of today?

When my emotions are things I wished away?

And the terrible truth of my existence

Was something I created with persistence?














What will come of tomorrow?

When you’re gone and I have nothing but your scent on the breeze to hold?

What will cause my heart to leap up with elation and hope?

What small token may I take from it all?


The moment draws close.

Like the looming autumn rain

I look up at the inky sky and whisper your name to myself.

Wishing to be warm in the fire of your eyes.


When every word is about you

And every kiss I kiss tells a story.

But more so for when I don’t kiss your boyish mouth

For that is when I want to the most.


Across the room, your eyes trickle down me

Standing still like alabaster symmetry.

Can you hear my forest eyes whisper your name?

Deeper into the wood. Deeper into the dusk.


My feet dance through our asphalt jungle

Light and soundless as the hanging moon

The beating drum of your hips on mine,

Caterpillar-shivers up your spine.


Oh, the music between us. Our voices, our admission

The guitar in my hair, and your smooth flute lips

Gnawing cello played on my neck, with the piano,

pressing, upon your shoulders. Symphony and harmony.



Red waves drowning your sweet expression, breathing

The ecstasy into our lungs.

All sound forgotten, just touch

a hundred etchings of release.


The quiet that comes, breathing heavy and deep

Skin the only barrier, between heaven and hell

Limbo absolving us for a brief moment

Our warmth starting fires in the sky


I have drawn lines around my heart.

The cursive wrongs that fit so perfectly

In the confines of your arms

Among the scent of muffled emotions.


Your battle-scarred back, is some reminder

To you of days that passed in the wilds.

But to me you have earned every measure

Of the stripes you bare. Warrior of the sun.


Your solitude comes, unbidden. A strong

Wind to take you away from the night you love.

What bronze left in your bones, must keep you safe

Among the jackals teeth, and the desert storm.


The sound of your leaving is so loud

Like a siren blare in my mind, eating at the edges

Of the books that hold my adoration

Burning me like a fire.


I have felt quiet leaving, which dies a slow death

I have felt the leaving of dreams, which slips

Out from under your feet in a crash

I have felt suddenness, which takes your breath


But this.

What is this leaving?

Such a burning in my stomach

The slow decay of my sanity.


Why must you go, leaving behind my trail of feigned acceptance?

When everyone leaves, but I wished that someone might have

Decided to stay. The need in their eyes as great as mine

I wished too hard for wings to fly.





The Night came closer.

And asked me why I loved you.

As it does every day.


It asked me about my fears

And the things that haunted me.

About what made you beautiful in my eyes.


I told it of my absence.

How you always loved another.

And like the fall, my colors would blow away in the wind.


But more than that I spoke of your wonder.

Of the sweet things I saw in your face

While the dawn threatened me with tomorrow.


I told him,

“His eyes are the deep abyss that I swim in. Black waters at night, in the ocean I float. Finding forever in the cool water, making my limbs light.

His eyes are the hunger of the tiger in the tall grass, begging my surrender, begging for the sweet lapping of water. Making me cry out in the night.

Universes hide in his eyes, the dawn of creation. the twisting of galaxies, sparking the dust of suns.So quiet and deep and brimming with a thousand lives and a thousand implosions.

A hollow made for the hoarding of gold, mountains of caverns lit up with fire. The singing of ages bellowing in its depths.

Obsidian inking, writing the shouts of warriors coming home upon the scroll hearts of history. Sweet words of lovers reunited, and another tomorrow to hold.

His eyes are the coat of the black wolf in the wood, feet light among the moonlit leaves. A whisper of journey on the ache of it’s voice, bounding out among the hills and calling me in.

A smooth stone in my hand, a treasure. Pulled from those swift waters of life, beating their path down the mountain, like the feet of time.

A raven on the wind, rising high on intelligent eyes. Piercing the darkness with his sharp wit and laughing call.

His eyes are the dark side of the moon, mystery and loneliness. A wisp of the coming light that the soul seeks to bathe in. The light of the impossible, waiting to breathe again.

Memory, how deep and dark that place is within him. That blackness his eyes behold and cradle. Laying curled in the confines of his mind.

The combining of color. The voiding of thought. The surprise of light. The haven of Home.”


And the night sat back on it’s heels

and blew a sweet southern wind.

And warned me of my inklings.


Because playing with fire was never safe

But playing with the dark.

That was from which some never returned.


And I looked up at the stars in wonder

How the light could love the black so much

That they froze themselves in his arms.


Even though with the coming dawn

They too would fade with him

Until nothing remained but the sound of their laughter.


The Window

The Window

As she passed, the brightness of her eyes took in the window scene. She stood, frozen, looking into the depths, breathing in a heart ache.
It was tangible and real in her eyes, but the cool glass protected it from her. Fingers imprinted onto the smoothness, the etching spiriting away as the pads left them.
This was every wish in her heart. This barrier like a net.
How mocking, how cruel.
So she passed on, broadening her shoulders for what was ahead. Every movement, an ‘if only’. Every step, toward a stone. Every word, breathing out. Every touch, toward oblivion.

She passed and thought it all a lie. That beautiful lie in your eyes.

And the Dawn Rose

And the Dawn Rose

May the 4th was with me.

Of David.



The grey sky fluttered away,

a supple dawn, as I rose,

arms above my head and flesh golden against the sunrise.


How strange the day! Seeming

so normal and breaking

upon the shore of tomorrow, forfeiting yesterday.


A blur of color, shape of forms

whisper by without a glance

shadowed eyes and straight lines of viscosity.


Through the haze, you appear, banking

over my miniature horizon. Eyes

meet in succession, and a thin tendril leaks from the mind.


My smile broadens like a fan, unfolding

some mystery to you, unbidden.

the afternoon sun warming our laughter under the weeping tree.


The night decends, in predictable silence.

But an excitement remains, a pale orb,

breaking into tiny pieces on our skin through the trees.


Touch, that everlasting delicacy.

It warps through my skin,

igniting the fire within me, flames licking up my chest.


The cool grass bounding along, graced

by tiny diamonds of water

so contradictory to my heart, breath coming in deep draws.


The rabbits flit and bound, eyes wide

tremors on the hard earth

your hand touching mine, my smile sweetened by your honey eyes.


Golden wolf eyes in the dawn, sear like suns

you found me through the trees.

A kiss reluctant to see you go, black shoulders moving out of sight.


How strange, this newness. How beautiful.

Twin limbs, twin tails

Black, running without halt, finding safety within in the fur of another.


My heart sings proud,

I found you.


My legs run fast,

So far.


My mind searches in wonder,

a maze like my own.


And the dawn rose.

Everything is new.










I can’t stop. I have tried. But each moment hearing your name is knowing you’re near.

I can’t let go of the relationship that never was. A thousand moments that didn’t or couldn’t happen.

Living in this phantasm, I reside in entrapment. I am a carnival fool, twisting like a dizzy bear to any slight signal or motion of your eye. My thoughts follow your path like a sneeze of stardust in an ebony sky. I am tangled in the wrinkles of white and buried in a feathered cradle. That slab of seclusion for two together, a forgetfulness of sleep and a warmth of twin limbs. If my eyes could speak, what would they say? What unbridled war-hound would bay its song? And what secret would yours reveal, or would they confirm that blatant look of refusal in your eyes?

Speak those words.

You are like a phonograph, your melody buzzing and climbing into me, causing my bones to dance under my skin. My heart seeps with your essence through every crack, like sweet water; sometimes beautifully delicious and other times sickly sticky juice that crumples my stomach and lurches in my veins. Your breath is a heartbeat in my chest, too hot and tight as to sweep past my clumsy lips. I eat you alive, biting and clawing my attempt at reaching your heart. I ache, oh how my skin aches and itches. But my knowledge overcomes so easily. The truths of my reality so real but unsatisfying like eating air. Your pulling and leaving are like oil atop the lake of my emotion, resistant and strange. And yet you’re but an ocean in my world, pushing and pulling in salty stubbornness or confidence. Your waves crush and lift, tasting and smelling like sun swept, wet lands far away; the warm sun on my shoulders, the cool water surrounding me. My days could spin on forever there , floating in the sublime oblivion of “now”. But you are dark and thrashing as well, simple in your nature and cursed in ignorance. So, many days I stand on the beach and watch you. Watch as you ebb away from rows of small blunted pads only to careen back against the shore. So close, but too far.

That bond is something I have never felt. So many times my mind and my heart have been in negotiation long into the night and come out to agree to let go for the best. So many times that I have forgotten how to become attached. And yet, there you are. There with your sharpness. There with your contradiction.  There with your absorption. My liquid skin could be under your hand, undulating against any twitch of your muscles. Don’t you feel it? My mouth could be on your neck, feathering deftly in your dark hair and whispering against your ear. Can’t you understand? Let your deaf ears weep the wimbling word of a lover, lost. Let your eyes speak of the hand of a friend, stolen. Let your mouth feel the bite of simple words, unbroken.

For surely, though my heart dances for you, you are the fool. I hope for days when your self can see. I hope for a future of truth and regret. I hope for that because that would be growth. That would be you finally letting light surge over the earth below, over beauty and honesty; the kind you have with yourself after long in the dark, searching with outstretched ear and fumbling hands. You look to the mirror and no one is there, only the brief memory of the whom of yesterday and the melding feeling of assimilation.

How can you be with someone when you’re in love with someone else? Impossibilities abound in my heart. My feet pound the way ahead but my ear is attune for your step.

Perhaps it takes another in order to lose you. Their soft touch and bright eyes searching and exhuming me like a body from the dead. Perhaps it is their laugh that chases these old ghosts away, far enough to forget. Perhaps that is forgetting, and the only time it stretches enough to cover everything else.

Perhaps then my heart will release you.

Perhaps then I shall be free.







I’m so blue tonight.


Thinking of your arms,

Do you hold her tight?

In her eyes a tender glow,

Caresses burn so soft and slow…


I’m so blue tonight.


Do you see me there within her stare

A hapless heart, my hands in your dark hair

A tender touch became resolve

Do you think of me at all?


And I’m so blue tonight.


Do you touch her lips and stroke her hair?

Smiles flitting in the evening air.

A set of words I long to hear

Whispered softly in her ear…


I’m just still so blue tonight.


I’ll bet she bursts with yellow, golden rays

Red with passion, she can make you stay

Pink blooms there across her face

Your green eyes change in her embrace…


But I’m so blue tonight.


Now, you’re walking hand in hand with her

A laugh between you, suspended words

As you kiss, her lashes bow

She has a love I’ll never know…


Darling, I’m so blue tonight.

Kissing the Foggy Sunrise

Kissing the Foggy Sunrise

The morning rose, like a grey flower blooming yellow along the thin line of the horizon. The sweeping slope of mountains, dotted with evergreens, were stained by the rising orb dripping honey across the rocks.

I watched, eyes focused on the dim lit of fog that caressed the swallowing valley in between. The thickness of it, something alive and insipid, frozen on the edge of the trees. It paused as if it awaited my invitation, staring at me with the promise of dispersion and absolution. It did not breathe. It did not speak, except with the mute tendrils of frailty so absolute that a slice of warm contretemps would chase it away.  I closed my eyes, mind bowed into the gathering silence.

And he’s there. I scented him. I felt him. Before I heard him, before I saw. My eyes remained closed, relishing in the heat that rose. The sharp dagger of sadness that wept black viscous anger seemed to dissipate to near falsity, its effect no longer amused enough to remain.

And his kiss. like a flame, filled me with such sweet affable rapture. That I bit him, soft flesh between my sharp teeth. I kissed him like someone might eat a small fruit, a plum perhaps, filling my half-open mouth with sweet juices and meat and not caring as it ran down me. Which, by way of the flame, promptly sent a morphous lava through me, coming to rest below my navel. My own insides ached in distress there, the sudden heat ordered to be quelled. We remained as such, a dark and moving creature of flesh. A ghost come to life. It felt unquenchable, and as we lifted apart, I rested in a touch. I turned in slow motion, parting us with my shoulder, my back to him. An odd little smile twisted in the corner of my mouth, willing my sanity to return.

The need to salve that fire was very nearly incomprehensible in magnitude, and I nearly lost myself in my need to overcome the barrier of protection in myself.

Perhaps he was put off by my seeming indifference, but I hid my affections nonetheless, sure that if he saw he would shy like a horse from a shot.

And surely he is such a spooked animal in temperament. Much like a cat, in his imperative feigned  ignorance and aloofness. And like a dog set on chase after such a delicate animal, I chase and can’t help myself to run after a turned back. My animal side is too great, like a heavy jacket removed whenever opportunity strikes.

I am such a willing victim. I am bewitched.

You are not unknown dear one. I know you. In more ways perhaps than you meant for any one person to do. I know you because I know myself. I look into your eyes and wish to know more. Is it a ruse? The play at incivility and contempt? The disdain and disapproval of your motions? The harrowed rigidity, put in place with a terse look? Your languid magnetism engulfing the stray wander of my eye? Perhaps I am just an interim. A slip of your madness brought to life in human form. Perhaps I will fade into the dawn like the ghosts drawn up with lips and whispers.

You are acute in your aim, seemingly all knowing and encompassing me. Where and when and how, you play. And I am but a rose battered by a sea-blown wind. My lush pink petals at your whim, to tear or caress. How silly it all seems. How avoidant of the truth I chase. But letting go would imply my ability to succumb to that decision. And it simply is not the case. So simple in its complication.

And so, I shall become avoidant. I shall turn my back instead of face you. So that you do not see, oh how weak I may be, my affections. So that you do not bite them and pull them down like a deer slaughtered in the deep silence. For your aim is true, as I have orated so many times before.

Your gaze has me hypnotized.

And your kiss, oh dear one…

Is made of the divine.

Losing to Win

Losing to Win

So, tonight I was home. Watching a movie in hopes of ignoring the cacophony outside from the torrential rain and hail that greeted the dark as the sun went down.

Little comments, little woes seeped out of me as I watched, trying with all my might to just be blank and open. I try to do that a lot. I can’t say I’m proud of it, I’m not the person to not feel something, so when I border myself in I feel off.

Still, days pass and often that’s how I get through and around emotions that get me no where and thoughts that make me cry or yell at my mom with things like “You know how you get over it everyday? The truth is, you don’t. You don’t cry, you don’t feel, and you suck it up” (Which was my statement not a few weeks ago). I disturbingly and disappointedly acted as a five-year-old who gets pushed in the dirt and scrapes her knee–emotionally disturbed and all but incapable of rational thought.

I digress.

So, tonight I’m sitting there doing my thing..,and the words in the movie come to life for me.

She was scared. Scared that if she went back to being who she was, doing what she did in any way before, that it meant she wasn’t sorry. That she didn’t feel or have regret.

Perhaps that’s what I’ve been doing all this time.

I realized the other day (in a post I didn’t publish for fear of sounding as ridiculous as I do in my own journal) that I was scared. I was hiding. Hiding from a past, forcing myself to relive it. I felt like I couldn’t get back the person I had been when I was younger, exuberant in my discovery of a beautiful eureka called “love”. I do realize that that playfulness is gone right now. Perhaps dormant, perhaps purged, I don’t know. That joy and silliness and awe at intimacy I felt is all but a memory. I’ve picked the wrong people. Been hurt by the wrong people. And as nature does, I adapted. Unfortunately in the wrong way.

I do hope we meet again, myself and I. And that we can recount the lost days and bring back the good again. The good I keep away for fear of a constant crying, or hurt, or vulnerability. I’m too old to cry like that anymore. At least that’s what I tell myself so I don’t do it. I won’t let him ruin my life. I won’t let him inadvertently control all my tomorrows.

So, tonight I realized that maybe I was forcing myself to be “mean” to me. That I felt like if I didn’t keep punishing myself. If I didn’t keep blaming myself. That if I didn’t keep reliving everything and every word that happened…that it meant I didn’t care. That I wasn’t sorry and that I hadn’t changed. I have. I am.

It’s a scary place to not trust yourself anymore. And an even scarier thing to not know your own self. I keep saying in a lot of posts lately that “maybe I was feeling ___.”. And unfortunately that’s the best I can do right now. It’s as if I am two people. One who protects the other depending on situations. As if I keep my own thoughts from myself at times. Sounds stupid, I know. Or like I’m some retarded lackey.

I have to stop. Stop forcing myself to replay things. To stop imagining–and succeeding at times–in punishing myself. I have to realize that what’s past is past. Period. Just because I don’t constantly remind myself of my faults and bad decisions, doesn’t mean I’m not sorry. Doesn’t mean I won’t or haven’t changed. Just because I go back to being happy; Just because I let myself be the open, sweet girl I was before; Just because I set myself free doesn’t mean I don’t see everything, that I don’t regret, that I’m not different.

Sometimes when you lose, you win. I lost a lot of things these past years. Hopes and dreams, freedoms and feelings. But I also gained a lot. Knowledge, wisdom, patience. Sacrifice and bravery. I learned through experience that sometimes when you win, you lose. And in that gained the understanding that in that loss there is also a winning of a greater kind. A winning of spirit.

So, everyone. Don’t be afraid. It’s okay to let go. Really let go. It doesn’t mean you’re weak, though you may be gloriously vulnerable to the beauty of life. You may be in danger, but if you are then it’s the danger of truly finding yourself and loving yourself. Don’t keep yourself caged. It’s okay to be free and understand your limitation. To understand that you fell down and now can get back up. That’s the beauty of it all. You’ve already messed up your second chance? Ha. Let’s wait ’til you stop growing and learning from mistakes and then we’ll call it messed up. Okay?

You’re beautiful. Keep becoming. Keep living.