Beloved

Is it strange to hear me say i love you?
It is not the romantic kind of love, but it is love
There was a piece of myself missing
There were so many pieces missing
And i didn't even know it
Until i found them again in you
And suddenly i am more because of you
You don't need to say anything in return
I know how you feel, and that is enough
But don't shy away or retreat when i say
You are beloved of me, my cherished one
You are the tether to my wandering soul
You are the anchor to my fugitive heart
You are dearest to me

Reading me

This book is nothing more than an old paperback. I don't remember where i got it. But the pages are yellow and worn from reading. The cover is creased and the spine broken. The ink, once crisp, has spread and become indistinct. The words however, remain sharp - cutting me to my core.
     I am here in these pages, lost. Waiting for you to read me alive again, to breathe life and feeling into this body of vanishing text. My skin is paper and these words are written in indelible ink upon me. The printing of which left faint scars, if you read closely you can see them.  What i have discovered between these pages -  between each beat of my heart- is that I am trapped, trapped here in sentiment that holds nothing new. Everything has already been said, written, and done before, it may be new to us, but that does not make it new.
    So how do we continue? If we skip to the last page what happens? Will we learn the lesson inscribed and not make the same mistakes that are printed like a warning in these yellowed sheets? Or do we read each page in order and fool ourselves into thinking we are at the edge of a new discovery? Or is it enough to let the story unfold beneath our fingers and say this is new to me.

Things remembered

Blue sky moon in the middle of the day
washed out sky sun bleached
I remember watching it rise full silver bright
I remember the smell of sunshowers
steam rising from the road
watching it evaporate into sticky humidity
and sweat on our skin

The asphalt melted beneath our feet
We measured the lines of caterpillars as they
went where ever they were going
We searched for ant-lions in tiny dust bowls
and came home covered in mud
We ran outside until the sun kissed our skins bronze
and washed the colour from our hair

I miss the smell of summer on my skin
I miss the time of not caring
where one day ends and another begins
And I miss you my friend
because I don't know where you have gone

I

i'm not sure i can leave
because i'm pretty sure
I've already gone
last night, and every night
has the air of goodbye
and each day is a jail sentence
waiting for the eloquence of darkness
we all slide down
lost into reflection
and lost is the key
when you don't belong
inside or out
mind, body and soul can't make a decision
heart and skin want desperately to part
blood has set it's self free
to run with the tears
rushing to meet the river

(Found in a book, written by my hand dated 1998. I don't remember writing this)

Floatsam

I've been lost at sea

kissed by the current
as it pulled me under
embraced by the waves
tumbled and rolled by undertow
gasping for breath one last time
sinking face up
watching the watery sun fade from view
warm in your embrace
for a while at least

the ocean doesn't care for the sand on the beach
as it constantly reaches out
grasping, pulling, pushing
grinding the greatest of rocks to grit
stealing one grain at a time
to be lost to the deep
or deposited on some distant shore

or i am floatsam on your waves
broken from something larger
left to drift the shifting continental plates
lost somewhere between the edge of the sea and the glowing sky

Sliver Moon

Fog rolls in
Casting shadows dark and dim
The city concealed
Light reflects
Nothing beyond the line of trees
Barren branches
Clinging to mist like leaves
Water lapping
Lakes edge shrouded beneath
All is grey
World drained of colour and light
Pallid dusk approaches
Followed by starless night
Knife like sliver moon
Cuts me open
I'll bleed out this twilight

The Devil Called Whiskey

Take me to the river
Lead me there to drink
Tell me your secrets
Leave me there to think

Wrap me in water
Wash away my fear
Lead me to the water
But don't take me near

The devil called whiskey
    made me this way
The devil called whiskey
    led me astray
The devil called whiskey
    wrapped me in your arms
The devil called whiskey
    took away my qualms

Some things aren’t forgotten
Some thing we can’t forgive
No water will wash the sense of regret
Of a life not fully lived

It's no secret I'm not a good girl
But it's clear I'm not bad either
But I just can't shake the feeling
It's probably not the drink

The devil called whiskey
   when i answered your call
The devil called whiskey
   wasn't with me at all
The devil called whiskey
   come take me away
I'm the devil called whiskey
   i led you astray

The same old lie

It was just a small lie to bide my time
I've been waiting to see what happens

Maybe it was just one side of the truth
Or the other side of the same old lie

It all seems like a dream
Because once again
I have mistaken truth for fiction

Cry to the wind

We cry to the wind
What will become of us?
The wind whips the words from our lips
As if they were never spoken

We turn our backs
And it pushed us forward
We face it head on
And struggle into the blowing gale

We lean into it
Without warning it becomes still
And we fall to the ground
We cry to the ground
What will become of us now?

tiny bits of paper

i'm holding you together
with shiny tape and tiny bits of paper

i'm holding you together
with willful ignorance and a sunny disposition

i'm holding you together
with long distance calls and random silly photos

i'm holding you together
with pieces of myself

i hope they are enough
because i have little else to give.

In Transit

Waves of clouds
and the rapidly approaching dawn
Dark sky gives way
to stratified blue
I'm in transit somewhere over an ocean
I'm leaving home
I'm coming home
I'm coming back to you
I've traveled through time
and back again
Hurtling through the ether
in a shiny tin can
I don't think about the wings
or the engines pushing me forward
I just watch the rolling clouds
and count the hours until I'm home

An Apology of Sorts

I didn't know what it was like to be someone else
until I tried
Now that I think back on it, it wasn't the best idea
But it was worth a try at the time
And in being someone else
I fell in love, it wasn't with you (i'm sorry)
It was with the other person that was being me
And now that I am myself again
I am sorry that you feel I hurt you
But in my defense, I wasn't myself at the time.