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none. I prayed that I could linger somehowthat something of me could cause you pain not in heart or broken body, I know thisI was gone in this way before I left but I hope that something of me remains that maybe you taste my lips on the coffee cup left cold on the tablefeel
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where was I the day that they taught us about how different things would be.. when they explained how we’d come back as completely different people? because when I close my eyes now it’s as if the ghosts press play and these moving pictures dance on my blackened lids without my permission their deaths relived
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From a very young age I wanted to be something other than what I was.Most of my formative years spent praying to God to be like everyone else or at least not me.To be what I thought was beautiful, but not in a way that brought attention. Therapists always want me to pinpoint when it
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Let this love be late night talks after the house is quiet Let it be a second chance at really living Let it be tender always but challenging when needed Let it be hands still held after 30 years of waking up to the same face Let it be laughter and kitchen dancing, let it
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I often reminisce on when you would not take no for an answer the brutality of being wanted that much and how that desire which said “you will not deny me” started the fire that burned on the pyre time and distance had built for us feeding the flames each time you spread me open
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everyone thinks I’m a wanderer maybe I was but lost is a foreign word to the gypsy and to those who know what you can learn to feel when you stick around beyond lust I may be a rambling woman or is that only for men? but if I sit still long enough perhaps I
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she feels the most alluring just before she’s touched intact undisturbed but I say no no because unhindered perfection never suited my mind or my body it is better when handled when dealt with left in breathless disarray mauled, battered, flushed red handprints framing the arcuate sweep of my curves painted with purple streaks within
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Had I been spared the burden of noticing, of intense scrutiny, I might have lived more oblivious, loved without such depth of thought But love, itself, was loud it made noise and I listened too well Born with eyes, a mind and, ultimately, a heart who perceives everything like when it arrives and when it
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take sanction from my arsenal I don’t want to need it when I’m with you the blood & the bones
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How laden is the load of an apology? I am Atlas and the burden is the I’m sorry I carry it is braced against the turning of the world and I am losing strength the blood & the bones
The Blood & The Bones 