careful careful careful

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Embrace,

and our lips meet.
Part. Moisten.
I feel you pulling me,
your hands on my curves.

You are comforted.
Reclining.
I am anxious.
Careful.

I feel the deep
in and out of your chest,
full and firm

pressed across my bust.

Safe.

My pulse is screaming.

Ever increasing.

Chaotic.

You are controlled.
Precise.
I am cautious.
Nervous.

Your hand grazes
my bare skin.
A whimper escapes

when your teeth
take in my neck.
Your grip tightens.
Eager.

My beat slows

to meet your own.

Melodic.

You are affected.
Strong.
I am exposed.
Softened.

My thighs ache.

Kindled.

Rocking in

your rhythm.

Restless.

The Wall is down.

Briefly.
My eyes
shifted.

I feel you
seeing me.
I see you

taking me.

Our eyes meet.

Expressions

are wild.

Heated.

Hear your

hands wandering

and my body

rising.

I hear my

panties rip.

Our skin sweats

together.

Steaming.

You are confident.

Steady.

I am burning.

Swiftly.

No breathing,

a quick familiar,

feeling. and

tightening,

tingling,

exhaling,

releasing.

You are dizzy.

I am surrendered.

Basking.

Intoxicated.

I gently float
on my limits.
Pushing and
pressing,
softly.

Loving
dysfunctionally,
and weeping
for it,
woefully.

Gliding
and misleading,
the strings of my
heart,
foolishly.

I'll continue to
depress my love
in longing.
I'll keep it from
mending.

I know nothing else.

So, let me get this straight. All my life my mother and two older sisters, friends, coworkers, etc. tell me, "Don't settle!"

And now, I must either lower my expectations or leave the one I'm with. Cruel fucking game, Life.

Sometimes, I feel like my bones are dynamite-old and volatile.  Like, with your every hint of annoyance, BOOM.  My wish is granted.  But, only sometimes.

Strong ass feeling, though.

My heart has never been heavier.  I'm pretty sure I'll collapse soon–I cannot carry it on my own much longer.

I envy the serenity that must come from being a tree.

Today, I noticed the season change. The leaves have begun to wilt, lose their color, and crumble to the ground. They speed off as if some exotic destination awaits them; sadly, it is only death no matter their path. They will be piled, composted, and made to make new life for the next growing season.

The trees are left to repair, alone. Much like me, once again, repairing alone. My craft does suffer when I am with someone. My focus changes completely to this other person. I'm not certain why? Humans have always had trouble balancing, I was told recently. I suppose that is true. I cannot balance my love of another with my love of me. Perhaps, I do not love me as I should. If someone should love me, it should be me... right? I've got to find some path to tackling this great feat of self-worth. Another thing that has difficulty maintaining its balance.

So, fall remaking is upon me, and the bliss of a sun-kissed summer is leaving. The bliss of ignorant love is gone. Life will pale with my skin and sink into winter's grasp.

I do not know how I am to find solace in any of the current happenings.

I don't know what I'm doing... I am faithfully trying. Faithfully, failing. I am only trying to make it through this life.. trying to be a good person... trying to be someone, upon which, others can rely. I am only trying.

I don't know what I'm doing. Luckily, no one knows. Maybe, I'm not so alone as I've thought.

I'm like a cement wall made from individual bricks. When it was created, it was solid. It was strong. It didn't bend to harsh weather or continued climbing by children.

It's strong in one piece.

Slowly, time has eroded it. Slowly, pieces have been scrapped off, rain has deteriorated its slabs, and in the sun, it fades. Faster, this happens. As passing of the years quickens, the corruption of it's foundation speeds closer to total loss.

I'm like, half standing right now. I left an important piece of me at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. I think I might return often to try repairing myself.

fuck your punctuation

"Maybe in 5 or 10, yours and mine will meet again; straighten this whole thing out... there's really no way to reach me; cause I'm already gone."

Thankful this day is closing. I have been sedated in self-pity for hours. I need a new day. I need a new sunrise; a new sunset... I need a change of scenery... it's coming, it's coming. Besides copious amounts of thinking, this day has been wasteful. Smile here, joke there, laugh now, cry later... I need a new day... I need a new fucking byline.

fata morgana

she appeared, with the first dawn’s glare
promising her creation
as attainable mystic-ness
where third realm light
becomes reality
with her wistful translucence
and serene, almost surreal, silhouette
she materialized with the carbon in the atmosphere
brilliant, she seemed
so immaculate and roseate
realizing my sacrificed dreamland
I reached for her cream colored shadowy hand
but she slipped through me
leaving her majestic essence
within my entity
all unsuspecting delusions
overwhelming sudden confusion
mastered my compassion
and like an intangible fabrication
at a fairy tale end
she was gone
like all other apparitions
breaking my confidence, all over again
as a mirage leaves nothing
and bequeaths only wanting
So, all I am is just waiting
anticipating my fantasy’s return

I sleep to finish... effortless.

In the Red of my obsession,
a blue sky swells over me
And shade, shrinks.

although love's exonerated,
In your blandishment,
Growth fetters,
callow and unambitious.

not for a lack of apathy,
But a need, a Desire.
Desire for liberation,
Dismissal of preconceived notions

Of my remaining lust
My enduring reverence
My exceeding infatuation,
A constancy of adoration
That IS no more.

Truth is,
I never hated you,
I still don't hate you,
But,
I don't love you.

I'll wait for the day I can tell you,
I do not need you.
I don't need you to know,
I am NOT counting my moments
desirous for our reunion.

In your recollection,
My name resounds
passion, longing
Devotion, sullen desperation...

Be enlightened:
once a flame glimmered
Hard in my affection,
And met its demise

On the tip of your tongue,
its silent ways,
and in the Black of my affliction.

i could really use a wish right now

I don't remember the moment. I can pinpoint the time frame, but not the moment. Some how, it was sneaky. I'm not sure if I was ready for it to happen, although I'm ready for it now. I'm in love with it, mostly. Other times, it's frustrating.

Sometime during the last two years, I went from girl to woman. In a lot of ways, I haven't been a girl, maybe ever. And, I can't really describe the exact characteristics or... changes that have forced me to make the transition, but it's clear. I don't think I'm alone in noticing it.

You see it.

I still struggle, though. I wrestle with me now and me then and the me I want to be in the future. I'm beginning to wonder if any of it matters? No matter how much I seem to grow personally, I still lose daily. I lose friends, love, and family. I lose pieces of my youth. I shed them like dry skin.

It flakes away with each brush up against another. I feel it leaving me. I never thought I'd care... that's when I thought life was planned. I thought, I was growing old with someone. I guess I hadn't faced the possibility of growing old alone... Until recently. Now, I'm trying to cling to my youthfulness, but I see it fading in my face, my hands and my heart.

The last part is what I miss most. I don't have the ability to fight for what my heart wants anymore. It settles... and I can't talk it into standing up for itself. I used to be able... and now I'm just defeated.

So, being a grown up is supposed to come with all sorts of knowledge and realization. Maybe it does. Perhaps it comes with an understanding of what "sweating the little stuff" really means. But, it's surrendering. I don't know if that's positive or damaging to my self.

Somehow, I fell out of love with being a woman during this post. I want my innocence back. I want it back, and I can't fucking remember where I left it, or if someone stole it. Or did I discard it like garbage? How foolish.

If you've got an art, stop neglecting it.

The cursor on this page tortures me. It begs me to type... to type something worth reading. But, I'm just staring at it. I have nothing but vain things to write about, aimlessly.

Someone currently calls me, "baby". Is it the kind of "baby" I want? Is there love, honesty, and trust beneath those letters? I don't know the answers.

I currently call someone "baby". Is it the kind of "baby" he wants? No. There is love, honesty, trust... desire... so many damn things behind it. So many damn things he doesn't want. I know those answers. I do not have the strength or courage to act upon what I know. I cannot leave him. I'm trapped exactly where I am... always, trapped. I've given my heart to him, although he does not take ownership.

Don't call me baby... don't waste my time.

I feel slighted

I am the youngest of three sisters. It was pretty much my mother and us three for the majority of my life. All I knew, is what they told me. So, I feel like they did a bit of a shoddy job. I mean, I have no idea how to guard my heart. No one ever taught me. So, I walk around with it hanging from my neck. I don't even cradle it in my hands, much less put it safely in my chest. This is something I need to learn. All those I've ever given it to, have treated it more like a volleyball... taking the time and focus to spike it at times.

If I had had a little sister, I would have taught her... keep your heart only for you. It's too fucking important and it's painful when you give it to someone else that is careless with it. If I had a daughter I would teach her that people are mean.... they are self-serving.

Don't fucking trust anyone with your heart... its breaking is inevitable.

So, tonight I was brushing my teeth, and in the mirror I was looking at the t-shirt I have on which reads, "Tony's Sutton Pizza". It's navy blue, and the material is old and very soft, but it's still in good condition. It doesn't belong to me... well, I guess some kind of ownership rules have been enacted due to the amount of time it has spent being worn by me, rolled up in my hamper, or folded in my drawer. So, I guess it's mine, but I did not acquire it in a store nor was it given to me; You used to wear it. It's an item from our break-up. I wonder if you remember it? It was yours. You wore a lot of t-shirts like it that you'd purchased at second-hand or vintage stores. I liked that about you. Your t-shirts really didn't mean anything. This shirt was left at my place after the hardest of all hards as far as break-ups go, and in my world, anyway. It was the first, and by extension, the one I most failed. It was my wake-up call into love and relationships.

You were a lovely guy, probably still are, but by this time, a man. It was all very typical. Our relationship was short. You made me feel beautiful, something I had not felt. The climb was exciting and new. The view from the top was stunning. The descend was glorious, and the fall was life-changing. We climbed fast, and fell harder. I shook the Earth when I hit the concrete. I was awful to you for weeks. I was confused, scared, angry, hurt, sad, happy, hormonal, clingy, and starving. I was so many emotions... they were unstable chemicals, and I was a heated test tube. They had no business being in one's heart simultaneously. So, naturally, I wasn't equipped even minimally to handle it given my perspective on life. I was young. You were young. You told me you loved me. No one else has said it quite like you... then again, all men that proceeded you were compared to you. It's unfair, but unavoidable.

I used to be proud of myself when I could stay away from you for a month. I remember when I came to see you shortly after 9/11/01. You always looked so handsome... and you always told me how good I looked. That was usually our first exchange. I revisited us even after I moved home, far from you. I did that for ten months. I still remember the last time I saw you. After about a year and a half or so of revisiting one another, I finally just stopped calling. FINALLY. That was an emotionally trying time.

After another year or so, I'd met someone I was excited about. After I trusted him, I told him our story, and I showed him our pictures. He said, "Happy looks good on you." About two or so months passed, and I decided, foolishly, all those pictures had to go. I destroyed them. I'm not sure what got into me. I don't remember how I felt at that moment, but I remember thinking "These gotta go." I still didn't feel over you, and I guess somehow I thought this action of "burning" your ex into ashes, figuratively, would be cleansing. I know it was bullshit. I don't have anything left... This is something I've regretted for many years. I tried to delete you. I don't know why I thought that was possible. Our relationship is very defining in my life. I hope I learned from it... and I think I continue to learn from it. I would never want to forget you... even if I never see you or hear from you again, which is likely. It has been eight years or something.

So, I wish I hadn't tried to erase you. BUT, the t-shirt... I was brushing my teeth, I read the shirt, and I thought, "So, I didn't delete all of him." I felt a sudden rush of relief. I have several of them still. I've cleaned out my collection of shirts very often, and I've never gotten rid of any of yours, and I never thought twice about keeping them. I don't even need to unfold them to know which they are... that's how long I've had them.

I don't expect to revisit this love, or that time in my life. I don't miss you anymore. I do miss my innocence. I gave that away when we were together, and I can't remember who I left it with... I don't know if it was you or if I left it in a pair of jeans that got washed. At any rate, that shit is gone, and I can't have it back. But, I like to remember who I was when I was with you. I was carefree, and I didn't hold back anything. Maybe she is who I miss, uh? I'm just glad I have the t-shirts... and no, you can't have them back.

A face like an angel,

that no one could love.

A heart like a stallion,

that ended up alone.