Here I am squatted by your grave, if you had one, I think this is where it would be. Tucked away from society, deep in the thick of tall pines and luscious green grass, with dancing wildflowers. Oh yes, this is definitely your space. I think you brought me back here once when I was…
R E A C H
out of the darkness and into the light, beyond the fears that hold us back and into joy that awaits.
Not Your Wings
Bumble and tumble butterfly bee the wind will blow you sideways least you expect thee. Flutter, flit, and fight don’t let up you’ll see your strength is in your heart not your wings.
If only you were a scratch and sniff, could I recant such a memory lingering long near your presence, while you make an impression on the senses filling my nostrils with your breath tasting your sweet intoxication on my tongue. And as I marvel at your beauty, scouring every inch of you, until I can…
I want to write, but I have no words to say, no thoughts provoked, no memories to recant. The urgency to produce is wild, reckless even. For though this chair holds me down, pulling words from the unknown, my view distracts and catapults me out into an enticing trance of intoxication.
My mistake to send you kisses while trying to send you hearts like the color of blooming pink flowers I shyly blush, revealing more than what’s been communicated.
In the distance your spring blooms enchant me, you are life amongst naked trees. Swiftly, my feet turn in your direction, carving their own path to you and within moments, standing under your blossoms, I became tantalized by your perfume, inhaling deeply your scent, carrying it on my tongue and embedding it long into memory….
A Little Piece of You
Approaching departure we drift through rugged terrain, mountain ranges, and green hills; yellow flowers and ocean. Only hours left of your refreshing presence do I have. And though the view may disappear, you will not leave me. For within each sweet moment filled with familiar nuances, laughter, and shared excitement, I have become a…
Back Into the Wild
Your whisper bends my ear, while my heart grips onto what is not mine. You ask me to let go, but instead I tighten evermore the keepsake in my palm. Again, You whisper. Ashamed of my disobedience, I bow my head, my selfishness aching. Wishing Your voice was just a sound I can ignore, but I…
Death of Yellow
As I bask in warmth of winters grasp, float in dreams of last nights ask; snow and temperatures clench the life of yellow, freezing it to death.