la douleur exquise

Delicate whispers fall from your lips,

Sweeter than a parting kiss.

The lovers' joy that's all a facade,

The realization that it's just a game.

The truth is bitter when you speak.

Your hand is cold to my body as they meet.

I dance with delusion and trial and gain,

I seek the words you give in vain. 

The bluntness of the harsh reveal,

It's more than this fragile soul stands to feel. 

The vulnerability that is at stake,

The love you once gave, but now you only take. 

I scrape I crawl I yell I cry,

I push I shove I ask you "why?"

The wreckage that your lack leaves behind 

Is a pride less path my heart must find.

I know you now not as before,

But as someone who must always settle the score.

You see through me like I'm not there, 

A time filled gap that you must bear.

The seconds pass and tick and tock,

While I discover that the key does not in fact fit the lock... 

The one I thought so specially made for me, 

This girl who dares and loves and dreams,

Who bears it all, her heart and soul. 

You would think by now it should be known, 

The trust it takes to hold a hand 

Is not worth the affections of a fleeting man.

for you

It’s your face I see when I close my eyes;

Your hands are what I imagine upon my thighs.

They seize my skin and pull me tight.

I feel our love inside your might.

My moans are loud with heavy sighs,

I picture you next to me as I lie.

I arch my back and grip the sheets,

I swear I hear your heart’s pounding beat.

You ravish me with such surprise!

Your lips meet mine, as you claim your prize.

Your noble charm and steadfast ways

Keep me lost inside my dreaming days.

Your sweet return occupies my mind’s time,

Until I can revel in your sweet sublime.

I will wait for you inside my dreams,

There I remain, until you come back to me.

grey area

it feels like a choke hold on my throat

a closing grip that wont let go

a  room where the walls are always too close

a pain in my heart too heavy to hold

a bitterness in the air that beckons the cold

a hole in the soul too wide and too low

the burden of not feeling ever enough

the voice in my head that says you aren’t being too tough

the tension of not knowing the up from the down

the confusion of learning which voices to drown

the dampness of sorrow

the pain of the debt

the longing of love

and the irony of regret

the struggle of striving and the act of letting go

the armor that comes even when the answer is no

the seeking the praying the asking God why

not knowing if I want to laugh or scream or give up and cry

the feeling of longing to escape and run away

but then the frustration of not knowing which path to take

the lie of the mirror

the truth of what I see

trying to find the clarity through all the deceit

wanting to let go but finding comfort in the grip

trying to dare greatly without analyzing the risk

the search for contentment

the peace and the serene

finding more comfort with myself and my dreams

learning the glimmer of life holds hands with the climb of the slope

the pairing of contradictions

through the density of see through smoke

the struggle to find where I finally fit in

keeping everyone out while not knowing the when

the fragility of the mind, the flack of its façade

the soul that strives to kill and disarm the defraud

the heart that is shaken, dismembered in the midst

bewildered by the questions, wishing she knew the cynical pretext

longing for the answers before the breathless contemplations

how to balance effort, yet trying to befriend patience

the shallowness of love

the depth of a soul

the struggle of reaching

while learning to courageously

let it all go

Swing

If you were here this afternoon…I am picturing us on the porch swing, entangled in each other’s arms and legs.  I read  poetry while you flip through your latest autobiography.  I drink coffee, while you steal sips from my cup, reluctant to get your own.  We are each lost in our own literature, yet wildly aware of each other’s presence, more so than we want to convey.  We let the gentle breeze sweep through the screens of the porch, rocking us gently.  I suddenly find myself with an insatiable urge to swing…the kind of swinging that calls for child like abandon, full of fear and freedom.  The kind of swinging that asks for just the right amount of hold and letting go at the same time in order to feel the high and rush of not only the ascent, but the fall as well.  I convince you to go on an adventure to find a swing with me.  We detangle, somewhat, putting down our books, while you finish off the last sips of coffee.  We parade into the house in order to find ourselves suitable swinging clothes.  Yet the entrapment of one another is more than we care to escape from at this moment.  So instead we make love.  The kind of love that calls for child like abandon, full of fear and freedom.  The kind of love that asks for just the right amount of hold and letting go at the same time in order to feel the high and rush of not only the ascent, but the fall as well.  You convince me to stay there and prolong my adventure of the swing.  I do not need convincing.

If you were here this afternoon…I would want you to see the freedom I have acquired, the contentment I now possess, the strength I am so clearly aware of.  But just like a cloud passing over the sun on a summer day, I am quickly reminded of how different things are.  You are not here on this afternoon with me.  In reality, would you have even allowed yourself to web into mine on a porch swing?  You have left me.  You have left me.  You have left me with an awareness.  An awareness that calls for child like abandon, full of fear and freedom.  The kind of awareness that asks for just the right amount of hold and letting go at the same time in order to feel the high and rush of not only the ascent, but the fall as well.  An awareness that gives me the clarity to see those things so sheltered by your presence.  You were my storm cloud.  My life without you is now a beautiful summer day. 

So I sit on my porch alone, reading poetry, thankful that I still have the opportunity to find someone to entangle with, but more than anything, thankful that I have found my own rhythm on this porch swing.