You broke me silently touching, but never present piece by p i e c e wanting, but never following through my heart saying, yet never doing crum bl e d
year by year day by day week by week hour by hour minute by minute second by s.e..c…o….n…..d……
The Thought of You
While wind and engines pull boats directionless, my book of recipes lure me deeper into context and hunger. I am but lost in words, when thoughts of you find me; drowning in French food and the lights of Paris, as the sound of water laps upon the shore below. I reminisce the last couple of…
Let’s Get Real
Let’s get real, I mean why shouldn’t I? I’ve played the scene over and over in my head, I know how it will turn out, or do don’t I? I’ll just say what I’ve rehearsed. I’ll try to be tender, but will likely end up blurting out choppy sentences, losing all elegance to speaking. Either…
Waiting in the Caverns
Deep within a maze of caverns a chamber of secrets my heart awaits to be found captivated by hope and accompanied by the joys of you.
Intermittent Silence and the Confinements of Tomorrow
Drawing into night chewing on words of memories past whilst thoughts of you high jump through my pondering mind, and my heart silently becomes panicked, as to why our daily habit flirts with silence. Are we saving breath within the confinements of tomorrow?
Whatever It Is
It’s a blanket of feelings, an afghan knitted together by connections I have with you keeping me warm with thoughts and yet paining me to watch you blindly pursue this, whatever it is.
If only for a little while I could return to my own mind between memory and you, deep in the heart of Christ where once I was found, I might find balance instead emotions that fill my head with doubt and wandering avid hypotheticals.
The Miles In-Between
In the miles that separate us temporarily, though memories be made, this ole heart misses knowing you are near. Found bound yet free while visiting familiar territory, let me continue to breathe you in morning and night, so, my fonder feelings remain connected to the one I’ll be returning home to.
Cynical walls build back around my heart, where you tore them down. Like patch work, each stone is put back into place, while variances of purple rise and fall from the sky.