Love Letters

You used to write me love letters,
tuck them in places you knew I’d find
if I saw the edge peeking out at a particular time.
Each line carefully composed and exact,
reminders of how deep passion had grown, since the first day our eyes met, standing there
speechless. 
Because words failed what hearts knew to already be truth,
even if it felt like an eternity, to finally get me to you.
You used to write me love letters, for no reason other than to tell me you had been thinking of me, my smile
and remembering every thing I did to drive you wild 
when our lips met in the dark, 
my hands finding yours, my body keeping yours warm, 
holding you so close, as if I was afraid that someone might pluck you from my soul, if you didn’t feel my arms around you. 
You used to write me love letters, 
when the night before we shared heated words in moments of anger and went to bed in opposite rooms,
but sleep left us no choice except to remember why love brought us together,
and that this too would pass.
How I long for those days when you couldn’t live without my touch, my arms, my kiss…
The days before love letters became notes and frustrations took hold of explanations,
and excuses became the norm, reasoning away every layer of what I thought we had built.
You used to write me love letters, your words tucked in the corners of my heart where I swore I could never lose them,
or us
or you. 
But now you’re gone,
and I can’t seem to find a single crumpled paper to tell me why.

carve

carving each breathe/ from one word/ to the next/ wondering if survival ends/ when the last letter/ of the last word/ sits still in its groove/ as shavings of memories/ lay strewn

w_rds

words don't have an impact until we give them power
we assign words and attach them to people, places and things like a stain
and wait for the world to react, emotions brimming over the sides to decide
what’s inside
but there’s emptiness
words have holes
and we’ve fallen through them

.drowning.

rain pounds against the windows of my heart and floods the corners with puddles of emotional concern …you’re leaving drops of you everywhere

and soon ill forget what a day of sunshine stood for against the torrential floods of your misguided intent
I’m but a storm away from ruin, yet relentlessly you pursue the core of me, determined to crack my resolve and create small damp pools of triumph where warm refuge once had a home…
a house is not a home without love they say, but love can drown even the best swimmer
and my head, tilted up, chin fighting to keep air into these lungs, grows weary quickly
I’m dying for the very love I had hoped would keep me afloat

.desire.

close your eyes so I can feel your soul from the inside out
see me without looking at me
touch me without your skin against mine
I’m lost in the sound of your voice
and when I’m not near, I imagine your lips parting so that
my fingertips graze the softest parts moments before I kiss them
I crave each second, each minute, to watch the want in your body unravel
threads of your heart, pulled back together when we merge
so beautiful you are, that this ache is like a wretched thorn in my heart
but I’ll bleed it dry just to spend one more moment in your presence
passion breaks the silence between our paused speech and builds a bridge
where we meet again for the first time
I want your forever
because you are mine

.love's slave.

Syllables and sounds of regret dance
Like flames on hot coals
Tongues disfigured in an ambiguous distortion of the truth
Your truth
But I know better
These sounds form words and lay upon my shoulder
Tips, kissed and brushed away with passion’s empty promises
I’ll never be the only one
Your only
But for now you’re here with me

So I imagine a time and place where
Rushed want is from desire rather than
A conflict of time with her
Despite the way your hand moves across my face
And tells me this is just what it is
The truth hides behind your eyes
Which unlike your mouth are unable to form such deceptive lies
I smile back in knowing that
The taste of me lingers on you When she pulls you close at night
I stroke your hair and feel the ease
In your body from my touch
And know that my goodbye will be
The very impact of love in all its complexities
So no note, no words this time
Just silence
For words become love’s slave
And this prisoner is ready to break free

.morning.

Yawns surface & light pours into my windows
Morning has found me again casting shadows on
Eyes that never closed and on arms that clutch pillows
Where you used to lay
How can the day be so beautiful when everything inside of me feels so ugly?
I turn to face the wall, yet the sun, relentless in its pursuit of happiness drenches me in the warmth of nature's peaceful advice
To "just be"
Even though my spirit is broken and my tongue is stilled by words exchanged in anger
I feel the energy of healing spread across my fingertips loosening the grip on sheets I'd held in defiance
Birds chirp melodies only they know the words to and the day begins anew
All that's missing is you

.street lights.

You’re so used to finger smudges
and the stench of yesterday’s regret lingering on your skin

That you chase away the possibility of anything that resembles happiness

You blow smoke clouds of mistrust through nostrils that inhale despair

And your heel buries the butt of your misfortune deep into the ground 

Even as hands cling to the collar of your shirt and lips press into your neck

You won’t succumb to the passion within

As another door closes you look longingly waiting for the old familiar sound of defeat

As it echoes in your ears

Then you lay, street lights illuminating your heart as each minute it goes further into the night

It’s better this way you tell yourself

But the only one convinced is you

"Different: The Dirty Word"

I hate feeling like I have to change who I am to be somebody to the rest of the world.

I love being me. Being quirky, different, passionate & able to do things that most don't think about.

Why is being yourself considered such a bad thing these days? If you're not a clone, you're a random lost face in the crowd.

I write. I'm a writer. The company of others can be a bonus (or nuisance) but isn't really necessary. Peace of mind is all I really desire.

Everything is electronic now: all forms of art. It's hard to be seen, be heard or appreciated when you're competing in a sea filled with constant overstimulation of senses. There's no room for people who are merely interested in simple pleasures like writing a letter, reading poetry from a book or sharing a few laughs face to face.

I was jokingly called "grandma" by someone a month ago because I said owned books and refused to read electronic books. I love the crispness of turning pages, the smell of the ink on the page, the feeling of the binding running against the palm of my hands. That's all the sensory experience I need curled up on my couch.

Perhaps I'm a dreamer because I can't go backwards, but what's in front of me isn't inviting or appealing. I'm starved for genuine human connection, affection and attention. Real life and not the kind in reality shows. I want to live a life of purpose. Is that too much to ask?

Life seems to have lost all meaning of originality and excitement. Everyone has access to everything and everyone all the time. There is no element of surprise. There is nothing to look forward to. It's like a world of living zombies. The damage is far worse than I ever imagined it could be.

I'm alone because I'm different. Different used to be a good thing. Now it's like a dirty word.

One day

One day I'm going to fall in love, foolishly but for all the right reasons and the person I love will love me -- selflessly, perfectly
The way you never would

She will look me in the eye and I will know that the sounds forming between her lips are merely the cherry atop the whipped cream of her actions
Those words will shape my heart, my life, my present and my future
Into the shape of happiness
You know, that round block you thought fit into the square peg

I'll know that every time our eyes meet she won't be searching mine to see if I recognize the person in front of me
We will be the reflection of honesty and devotion in one another

One day I'll hold hands, watch movies and laugh until my stomach hurts with someone who knows me as well as she knows herself because we live for today
And are grateful for tomorrow
Our dreams are whispers between cool sheets and rustles of morning blankets

Sweet kisses on foreheads and I want you's that linger in a quick glance
This is love? This is love.
Hands that search for the small in her back then gently glide and wrap around her waist
I adore her every inch, every atom of her being
She completes me

One day

Untitled

I love you
Fell like shards of glass onto linoleum
Cracked pieces scattered everywhere so the truth could not be recovered
Picking up my heart again with a dustpan and a broom
Stooped low towards the ground listening to the melody of heartache
Smash against reality
Sometimes it's not worth knowing the words to the same song
If you'll only burrow inside the sound to escape
Chastising myself and taking a vow of silence from the L word
The capacity to succumb reduced with my feet firmly planted on the ground
I'd rather stand alone than fall and break
There's only so much of me left

untitled

false truths fall faster from your lips
than I love you can hide behind my eyes
the speed of fear and love at the intersection
of reality
chasing you like a thief in the night
you’ve stolen my heart and run away with it
too afraid to stay and let it beat inside the palms
of your hands
so
you squeeze, I’m without breath, air
i’m starved for your affection
and alive merely by the will to eat

.expectations.

expectations
the root of all disappointments
and i've pulled you from the ground,
your leaves and stem
earthy and full of promise
the actual fruit of my labors
shriveled and sunken in
the palms of my calloused hands
betraying their age with lines of despair
the struggle
between love, life and
the belief in truth
when the sky is made of angry clouds
thunder like praise
and eyes are like mirrors so that all you see
is yourself
when you're being lied to
so you believe
in your truth
while chameleons color their hearts
with your strength
hide their weakness between shades of gray
it's raining again

untitled

Broken steps, cracked by the pressure of dreams deferred
Tangled mess of red, white & blue
hung like a noose around the
necks of brown-skinned girls and boys
Brown will eventually turn blue, cold
& potential wasted will
cross the lips and hushed tongues
in the shadows where poverty’s bounced checks are written by the hour
on depleted funds in accounts with names unrecognizable, skin color undeniable
We were never meant to thrive
Institutional oppression, big words that carry the fate of the world on a silver platter, high in the clouds out of justice’s reach
because the notion of justice has been color tweaked
So the world within our minds & hearts becomes a battle zone fraught with fear and protective intentions,
distractions from accomplishments with survival as the means to an end
but it never ends
And faces begin to look real familiar behind glass walls, bars, at desks & on paperwork done with
ink of lost souls, each page more saturated than the next with
societal lies & hatred
We wrote the books on lives unlived with the pain of our silent scars
etched in backs, arms & legs
tortured for centuries by colorless beings who can’t see through our skin to reach our worth

.abbreviate.

i've learned to abbreviate
the way my heart feels each time you cut a piece off
and put it in your pocket, for safe keeping you say
but i never see it again
and the hole left bleeds until it dries
forms a scar
and then you return
for another peace of me
f.o. (fuck off)

untitled

remember the days before lost lovers words were left hanging
like ashes on the end of a burning cigarette
between lips
expectant of what tomorrow would bring
we’ve traced these lines time and time again
yet the picture remains the same sketch of misery
so we dance
bodies disjointed and fragmented between torso and head
we’ve come undone

.thoughts.

You make me feel attractive from the outside-in again. It's been so long since I've felt appreciated or desired. It's like I've been wasting away, my roots planted firmly in love but no water to nourish the part of me that grows above ground. Then came you...

I hate the internet

Really? Every relationship, every moment, every thought, every idea of who you "are" is based on the internet. In fact, if I could post this in a newspaper and thought it might even be seen, I would. Instead I'll settle for the fact the maybe one or two people may read this because I'm not half naked perpetrating to get attention. Where are all the real people? Do they even exist anymore? Or is it all just a show to prove who can outdo who? The funny thing is more than half of the people who spend 23.5 hours on the internet are boring, anti social, lonely, awkward people who use the internet to bully people while posting pictures as if they run shit. I'm over it. I'm over the hype & the b.s. I want to meet real people with real thoughts who do real things. Just recently I met a handful of real people and it was like learning to breathe again because I'm so tired of being around/near people who are always trying to compete and be cool. It's so disgusting and pathetic. Like whatever happened to being who you are and that being enough? Now you need the right hair, right eyes, right hair color, right phone, right extracurricular activities -- gotta be seen at the right events hanging with the "right" people. All of it is such a turn off and I feel like the people that are real are becoming extinct. You can't even date people anymore who aren't competing with you. Lame.As.Fuck.

fck it.

When your heart becomes something to be played with rather than something to have, hold, cherish & protect.
When your heart becomes a punching bag, beaten every day at the gym, used for someone else's frustrations & then left in the darkness.
When your heart become a pile of flattened rubber like tire caught on a nail.
When your heart becomes a joke, a reason for stand up, an attraction at parties, an object for entertainment at your expense.
When your heart becomes like grains of sand falling between the fingertips of someone as quickly as their memory of you fades.
When your heart becomes a non factor

.canvas.

Lying here I close my eyes and imagine the tips of your fingers grazing my skin
Then gently rub up and down my arms while you place light kisses into my collar bone
The sweetest spot you can't leave alone
So I can't help but moan
And feel the throb between my legs grow
Your tongue starts to draw circles around my nipples and I part my lips
Wetting them
As your hunger for me grows
The heat from your body turns to
Small beads of excited moisture against your forehead
I
Wipe your hair from your face and then wrap your hair between my fingers pulling you closer
You gasp then gently tug at my nipples with your teeth
I growl in a sensual frenzy
My mouth dry as you feast upon my body
Your nails dig into my thighs
Pulling them apart
A thirst of your own has revealed your want
I rise my hips up to meet your lips
Slowly teasing up and down
I wait for your reaction
As you wrap my legs around your neck
And your tongue plunges deep inside to taste my nectar
I close my eyes and feel every part of me start to tingle from the inside out
You always find that spot that takes me outside of my body & lifts me into the clouds
I'm high
And drunk off this
Passionate love making
Breath taking
I forget to breathe but your lungs work for me
I'm one with you again
As you peel back each layer of me
Until I can't hide from you anymore
One more touch, one more taste
I'm overflowing from the inside out
My body shakes and my fingers loosen their grip on your hair
You let my whimpers guide your last strokes
I was your canvas