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I would wait like this all dayif I knew it was the only wayto dull the rage that you carryto bring you back to yourselfsome purge words for releasebut those wordsthose actionsdon’t feel familiar to your careful tongue so instead I invite you to find the things you need to say inside meto paint the
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• September • by now you knowyou will find mewhere the wildestflowers growfor I planted myselffar from anythat might choose me it is beautiful here most daysand yet I am witheringeven surroundedby all this beautyset out in fields of solitaryintentionally alone and it has been so longsince I havefelt the touch of anythingeven accidentallyexcept the
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When I am gone, spread my ashes somewhere beautiful. Do not bury me in the ground so that others have to sit amongst the dead with only stone and cheap fake flowers as their companions. Take me somewhere I would have loved for them to remember me. Between a river and a mountain. Between the
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• duality • there is bad in mea thing that festers and drumswaiting for it’s turn to take overwhen the better parts of myselffail to succeed with graceand composure escapes mehis methods of resolution are often messybut they are thorough and brusquesharp and piercingunlike the softness this side tries to emulatehe is my necessary evilwhen
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• Because of him.. I know that I have changed. I know because of the way he touches me, the way he reaches in.. Warm fingers grasping the wet and syrupy bits, letting the softest of them slide through his fingertips before digging in again. At first, I wanted to think it was just sexual.
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• Because of him.. I know that I have changed. I know because of the way he touches me, the way he reaches in.. Warm fingers grasping the wet and syrupy bits, letting the softest of them slide through his fingertips before digging in again. At first, I wanted to think it was just sexual.
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you can miss what you’ve never hadi am living proof of thatperhaps you were mine in a past lifeperhaps you will be mine again in the nextnot this one thoughthis one is for learning what it means to be withoutto searchto walk the path aloneto be misunderstoodto be invisible evenbut if there is a Godin
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• pillow talk • He is said to be a good man who has done bad deeds..A man who came home for good after living a thousand lives inside this one..The gentleman and the wolf.The ever elusive dying breed.And one who is most certainly a magnet for a curious woman like me.I think of him,
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They say they don’t make men the way they used to. But there are a few among us who have the spine of the older generations. They are providers and philosophers. Well read and well seasoned..who know what it means to earn what they have. Men who have felt the edge and brought others to
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It’s so odd how I struggle with wanting to make a home for someone but then also wanting to find a home in me.. Both are so important to me yet at the same time quite contrasting and contradictory. It’s like wanting to be an oak tree while at the same time wanting to be
The Blood & The Bones 