Tag Archives: woman

The Window

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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.

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The Beast

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The Beast

The animal within grows anxious

A pacing beast of claw and teeth

Eyes fixed, eyes deep, eyes hungry

A mouth bites like scythe meeting the flesh of plums

Strong, fierce, my bones desperately gnawing against yours

*

Legs leap finding grip in your shoulders, your hips

They tangle, wrapped snakes and tiger tails; whipping; twitching

Sat on top, prey caught, looking down upon a flushed face

Reaching in, salt on the skin, a flourishing tongue

*

Oh the sweetness of surrender.

Oh the sweetness of success.

*

Biting into your neck, my prey, my catch.

Like a beast feeding upon your noises. Your touch. Your warmth within.

Breath escapes, careening out like a billow of soul.

Searching for a place to land, hide, arching towards heaven

My mouth captures it, essence flowing in, becoming part of me

*

Bodies coming together, apart

Magnets, planets, trapped in each others force and field.

*

Oh, the ending. Salving my thirst, that hunger

Freed from my belly, like an eagle forcing wings

Out. Out from my mouth, a cry like the howl of Wolf.

Groaning against the weight of the stars

Exploding within my bosom, little fizzing blossoms

Shooting across your midnight eyes.

*

My mouth on your neck, on your mouth

Breathing in your exhaustion, your satisfaction

Wet from my swim in that deep water of your spirit

Licking up the dew drops that fell upon the open

Field of your nape, the wave of your lips, curling down

*

Cracks

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Cracks

Oh the cracks in my soul

Filled to brimming with latent desire

How they burn and bleed like scars

Shooting stars stinging their jellyfish trails into the night

That look upon your face reflected in my mind

Open. Reaching. Already needing more skin

From the crook of your neck and the line of your ribs

***

The heat of your skin is a memory that snuck into my bed.

The strength in your back is the silence of eyelashes brushing my cheek

The press of your fingers is a symphony played on the waves of my hips.

***

Oh the cracks in my soul

Filled to brimming with wanton destruction

How they burn and bleed like brands

Hot stakes in my flesh, probing the wet reaches of emotion

That look upon my face reflected in in my hands

Open. Reaching. Wishing for more to fill the emptiness

From the gaps between your fingers and the hollow of your neck.

***

The pain of the curse of love.

The sorrow of beauty.

The joy of misery.

And the fullness of empty hands.

Too Many Times

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Too Many Times

I held the wolf by the ears, and sat upon his back

His teeth nearly a breath from my soft flesh

I knew I must let go, how strange, as his fangs broke into me

A hollow hole opened up filled only with the tears of skin

Howling cavern

Careening into the brisk morning, tumbling out like smoke

Too many times a broken voice.

 

They say it’s not the fall that kills you

They say, filled with humorous smirk

The sudden stop grew as I passed heaven by,

Living there only a second

Fallen angel

Careening gracelessly into the dark, black earth of night

Too many times a broken wing.

 

Life rests on the head of a pin, tumbling forward

Falling back. Into the cold hand of an earthen bed

A cradle from beginning to end, and in between

Into a sweet sleep we fall, dozing in a promise

Better tomorrow

Careening into a dream, light and golden in the face of surrender

Too many times an awakening.

 

How did I think to hold the wolf’s ear? To seek to make him my pet? When all the wild things seek to do, is eat without regret.

So I sit here, in bleak surrender, begging like a dog. For things unsettled and magic un bridled, and naps within the sun.

He bit my hand, and savaged my heart, all the while I stroked his head. And told him sweet wishes and hopes, he ate them all instead.

And while I wept , that berserker, runs and rages on. A river wild and quite untame, the eater of hearts forgone.

Guilt is heavy on the soul, a weight to struggle under. It spurns and brands and leaves us naked, a wisp of foolish blunder.

Upon our choice, we risk our lives, to the wolf that’s at the door. We let him in, to make us wounds, blood leaking onto the floor.

 

Beware the wolf, beware his wiles, beware is warm soft skin. He draws you in and makes you his, and eats you from within.

 

People Riding In Limos

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People Riding In Limos

There’s been a lot going on lately.

Changes and challenges and worries.

Tests coming up and tests taken that still haunt me.

I’m not always so wise in the “relationship” department. Or compartment.

I make mistakes. Quite a bit actually. And I can’t help but think I should be making less of the same ones. I cant help but think I should be less young.

Maybe I grew up too fast. Or in some ways not fast enough.

But that is the story of our lives I suppose. Either too far ahead or too far behind.

I read a quote once. Something about a limo and a bus and breaking down on the side of the road. I can’t remember what it was about exactly, but lying in bed late at night got me thinking. The events of the day rushing back. The events of the week….the events of the month…the events of the year.

And I thought back to when I was younger, smaller in so many ways. Smaller in experience, but larger in spirit. Someone happy. Someone who bayed at the moon just cause, after all, that’s what the animals do when they’re happy (and no one judges them on their singing talents). Someone who didn’t have a care in the world except what was for breakfast and if she was going to pass some test I wish I was doing now. Someone who didn’t know the hurt and the other ugly things I know now. Someone who thought there was a happy ending for everyone, and that that happy ending would be the first person I met. The first person that I kissed or loved or trusted.

Now I’m smaller in other ways. I’m bigger on the outside and smaller on the  inside. Hiding from something that I don’t even know the name of. Maybe love. Maybe hurt. But I’m honest enough to know that some days I just don’t know what.

I wonder who I would have been if I never would have met him. If I never would have burnt out my flame on him fighting so hard for his love. For a false love. Would I still be as naive as I was, untainted and free? Or would I have still walked this path to where I am now, just without him?

What’s left of me now? A withered flame today. Tired and alone in a shallow room, straining my eyes in searching. Searching for a flame like mine. My eyes are tired. There’s too much too look at sometimes in life. Too many things going on that we forget to look. I’m just busy trying to keep my flame alive.

Some days I’m better; learning to burn bright again, to be me again. By accident, but then I guess I was always “me” by accident. Is there any other way of inventing “me”?

So, in thinking about this limo quote and the events leading to my place in life (after I was done being depressing), I came to something inside myself. It was that moment that you get on a lazy afternoon, dozing just as the sun turns the room gold. How magical that moment is, how transcendent. It’s a rare moment. Something in you breaks, but in breaking it flowers as if your heart were a seed that suddenly felt its time come. It was that moment of knowing. Just knowing. As if the universe came and whispered a secret in your ear and you knew it was right. You knew it was right so strongly that it didn’t surprise you. A known surprise, like a precious trinket you hid away and suddenly discover years later.

The moon shone down, a bright full face soon to be smiling as it wanes away, and as I looked up I felt it. That strong breeze of spirit.

I’ve been riding in limos. Limos come and go, a different one every time. They come just for a moment, night or day. You ride, you pay and you leave, off to some event that is far more important than the limo. The limo is an afterthought. They limo is a tool. But the limo wasn’t important. You could have easily taken a cab or driven yourself. You could have taken the metro or flown or rowed a boat. The limo doesn’t take you on a journey, it just holes you up for a little while, blocking you from the outside world with its tinted windows and its reclined seating. It’s the same with people. People love “limos”. They’re easy, no commitment to self or thought. Each night a different one. They look nice and might feed you in some way or another, providing you with drinks that encourage things to happen.

And then there’s the bus. Now, we’re not talking some dirty old bus like you might  get on while riding gloomily to work. No. We’re working in the metaphorical here. Try and keep up. So, nice bus. You have to wait for the bus, yes. But you meet some great people on the bus. It’s hard waiting for the bus. You get bored cause you know it’s coming sometime soon but it can seem like an eternity for your exact bus to arrive. You try to distract yourself with things to do while you wait. You stand lookout. The bus will arrive, but it’ll arrive when it’s time. You could get rained on, you may want to give up, but the bus will come if you’re patient. Sure, it’d be easier to call a limo to come pick you up. But maybe the limo just isn’t better. How much fun is it to ride a bus with someone you really enjoy speaking with? Someone who’s just happy to be there with you? Just cause you’re there? You waited for that darn slow bus, but it would be worth it, wouldn’t it? To feel the warmth and joy of speaking to someone who listens and understands? To fall asleep on the shoulder of someone you love, letting the jostling of the tires rock you and the dull roar of the engine be your lullaby. To fall asleep, someone sweetly stroking your hair, heartbeats in time?

Great things happen in the backs of limos. Rappers have parties. Girls in dresses too short drink champagne. Old men smoke with women their granddaughter’s age sitting on their laps. Singers sing, dancers dance. People stick their heads out of the sunroof. And that’s all very exciting.

But if I’m honest, despite how everyone looks at me like I might have a head injury when I say it, I like the bus better. I want that closeness, that roar of the engine, that hand pressed against mine, quiet and watching the shops and people go by while we listen to music. There’s something so exciting about the feel of “the bus”; of an adventure beginning and excitement waiting at the next stop. Feeling like I am safe and can gently step off into a new story and discover new things whenever I please. I know the bus will always be there. Limos can be booked and not have time to pick you up. But the bus is just there.

If I’m honest. I just want to ride the bus.

I’m tired of limos. I’m tired of picking up and dropping off and never looking back to see  if I’m okay. I’m tired of a new driver who just doesn’t care about me. I’m just today’s ticket. I’m a fix.

I’m just tired.

I’m tired of faking that I like limos and that they’re just “so amazing”. I’m tired of pretending like I’m the same as everyone else.

It’s so very obvious I’m not. I’m the tiger pretending I’m a duck. I’m like a rose poking out of a petunia patch. It’s just not going to work and I’m tired of quacking. I’m not who I keep trying to be despite the fact it goes adverse to who I am. Maybe I’m just looking for love, or intimacy, but I can’t keep on like this. Each thing must be what it is and follow its nature. A cloud may wish to be a tree but it can’t. It’s a cloud. It was meant to float and make shapes and rain. That’s its nature. That’s what it does, and to go against that nature will only bring misery.

Now, I just have to learn to wait. Wait for the bus to come. Wait for what I really want to get here.

I don’t know how well I’ll do at first. The limos are tempting. But if i can manage to be patient I won’t miss my bus and have to wait longer. I’ll simply get on and start my new adventure.

I’m not a duck, or a tree, or a petunia. I’m just me. And I need to be truer to me.

The time to start is now.

Animal

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Animal

 

 

 

 

 

Heart sang

a tightened drum

willow strands of melody

whispering, rising, pausing

struck by Love’s affected beauty..

hot like irons

animal.

 

His scent

a summer’s breath

sand bleached by sun

singing, tickling, caressing

A breeze adverse to his steel gaze..

hot like irons

animal.

 

Chest rising

a beast within

wolf baying, set aflame

sharpening, curling, gnashing

desire within, her hunger unsated..

hot like irons

animal.

 

Silent pause

flash of white

the hunt comes, a triumph

biting, scratching, consuming

sweet flesh peeling free of separate skin..

hot like irons

animal.

Hello, my other half..whoever you are..Vol. 2

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Hello, my other half..whoever you are..Vol. 2

Dear you,

Today I struggled without you.

Today I tried to distract myself with the computer and the television in order not to think about you. I only found songs that made me think about you. I only found people who made me dream of your face.

Tonight I went to a movie, and in the dark I was alone in a sea of people. I had people I love with me, I was not without, so there is no need to worry. There were people to hold The Kid and everyone laughed when he giggled at an ironic moment. They take care of me, and let me rest my head upon their shoulders. But I was without you, and that was enough to make me feel somehow lacking. I imagined I had you there with me, to smell your cologne as I kissed the skin at the crook of your neck. I dreamed you were there holding me, kissing me, and making it hard to concentrate on the movie. In my mind I was with you and everyone was jealous, because you had me and I had you. And we were perfect in our love. I have never been prone to feelings of self-importance, but in that moment I did. I dreamed of glimpsing you in the dark, warm cave of the theatre as you sat focused. I imagined catching your eye and sitting tall, making you stare without a word.

In my mind: Today I woke to your face, silently devoid of expression as you slept. I pushed back your hair and spooned in beside you. I caught your hand in the hall, and you looked into my eyes and saw forever there. I treasure the moments when I catch your eye. We put The Kid to sleep for a nap, his soft snore muffled behind wooden doors, and retreated to the living room. I laid in your arms. We drank hot tea and ate a few of the “too-many” cookies. You played with my hair, I read aloud, contemplating a particularly complex novel. I fell asleep and woke to your smile. There was nothing else to do for the day except bask in your love. We captured the night, sitting in the grass outside the house and looking at the lights, both heavenly and earth-bound. We talked about outer space, God, and light sabers. I laughed, you laughed at my hilarity. I couldn’t stop smiling.

But I woke from my reverie. You were gone.

My days are named. They are Lonliness. I feel silly in feeling that, but it is my truth. I think of you often, and miss you. Too often, perhaps, for someone I do not yet know. That is my curse, to feel like the last of a breed composed of two people. I feel like half my skin is missing.The burn of the air against my seared flesh when I wake is enough to have me wanting to never leave my warm sheets. And yet, I am a contradiction. A fallacy. How am I alive? So composed without you? How do I smile, knowing you are far away? For you could only be far away to not be with me now. How am I living, just half of a person? Half of a heart? I live the day-to-day. I whisper your unspoken name in every breath. I am lost without you.

Why aren’t you here yet? Why haven’t you come? How late is your train?

What will I be saying when you come?

*How could you come now? With me no longer a spring maiden? No longer in my youth, no longer with light-brightened futures?  You have finally come, but what have I be-come?*

Will there be tears? Of course. Will there be joy? Always. Will there be pain? Not anymore.

I am warned in the moments I am living. My heart warns me. It warns me of change, good or bad, having its consequence. Warns me that there is a toll to pay. I know about Missing. I know what it costs to be happy. I know what it costs to get what you want, you must lose something partly in order to gain something else. It will not always be this way. My parents may not always be there, to watch The Kid grow every day and night, or lounge on the couch with me in the late hours. Though she is not the same, my grandmother may not always be around and I will miss her laugh. My brother may grow and have a family of his own in his future, as he should, and small intricacies such as space may separate us. My sisters will have families of their own, and I will be there but it may never be as it is now. I could end up alone tomorrow, incomplete without my family there to give me guidance and love. They are my glue with the world, with myself. They ARE my world. And we may piss on each other’s hearts sometimes, but we love each other. We’re bonded. And I love them more than anything on this planet.  

I am lucky. I know this. And the fact of the delicacy of my existence makes my stomach knot and my skin sweat. I couldn’t bear to lose them. I don’t want to and I will work harder to make it known that I don’t take them for granted. For, I love them.

I will work to do better, in everything. I want you to be proud of me. I want you to see the strong woman I am. I want you to see me. SEE me.

Still, I long for you. Long for your embrace. Long for your love.

What is this obsession we humans have with love? Something sends us out into the world to find meaning, to find someone to love and accept us. A different, special type of love. An un-named emotion, perhaps? A fear? No, never fear. But, what then? What in our growing creates this chasm? This hole to be filled by one? The One? We just don’t seem complete without it. We still experience joy, love, hope, hate, jealousy, truth, and any other emotion or pillar of our being. And they are real, very real. But we can’t stop looking for love. True love. We still ache and sense the empty space that has no location and no name..and yet, as Hope or Love, it is real.

I pray for you. I pray you grow. I pray you have the strength to grow and become what you are, perhaps, afraid to be. I pray you are happy, that you experience joy and love in all it’s fashions. I pray your heart does not become weary, that you do not fade. I pray you are healthy and strong. I pray you know truth when you see it. I pray the Father touches you in ways that are beautiful and let you know you aren’t alone. I pray you know I’m there. I pray you are on your way.

The same prayers I pray for me.

Find me.

I’m here.

I’m waiting.

I miss you.

Come home.