Vague

“My memory of him is vague”

I lie to them…

I could not say how I remember your faded black shirt.

How you’d smell like wood and leather and dirt.

I could not say how I miss your hand on the small of my back

or how you’d sweep the hair from my face

before kissing me with your lips that were both soft and a little bit rough.

I could not say how much I miss your kiss and even if your lips were as rough as 40 grit sandpaper,  I’d want you to kiss me until I had no lips left,

For maybe if I had no lips left

I could not say

How terribly I miss you…

Spontaneity loving Scorpio

Spontaneity loving Scorpio
 I love short walks and long conversations.
 I have a big heart. I hate small talk.
 I listen to songs a little too long and a little too loud.
 Sunset obsessed. Takes too many pictures.
 Collector of books and writer of words.
 I’m messy, a tad peculiar and hate expectations.
 Fragile. Learning how to bend; not break
 Fluent in sarcasm with an accent of inappropriate humour;
 Laughs much too loud at fine dining restaurants and doesn’t understand the cutlery conundrum. 
 Consumes copious amounts of caffeine, carbs and chaos.
 I love karaoke and will dance anywhere.
 Must love martinis. Dirty martinis.
 Daydreamer, chronic over thinker and over feeler.
 I don’t care much about life plans and meal plans;
 Because, the best laid plans of mice and men…
 I often don’t understand myself so would not hold you to that expectation.
 Fair Warning: 
 It took me 36 years to learn to love myself so have fun or die trying.
  

Ode to Aud


 March 19th
 1:00 am.
 Water breaks.
 3 weeks early.
 Terrified and excited.
 I’ve felt you for months.
 It’s time to finally meet you.
 It turns out you’re breech.
 My world upside down for a moment.
 The O.R is sterile and cold.
 You’re out safe but I cannot hold
 you right away.
 I see you for the first time from the corner of my eye.
 I hear your little cry and I sigh in relief.
 Scars and marks to show we both fought for you to be here,
 In my arms; they were made to hold you.
 Behold you, baby girl.
 I’m in awe of you, all 6 pounds and 10 ounces of you.
 I’ve saved all my lullabies for you.
 I will never forget the first time I met you.
 5:07 am
 March 19th

Anguish

Feet calloused from the eggshells I walk upon.

Blisters from the friction of my non-fiction constantly rubbing against my fantasy.

The levy behind my eyes imminently bound to break.

My skin itches and crawls as my bones try to escape.

One hand is pressed to my chest;

feeling my heart start to crack…break.

Internal earthquake.

My other hand pressed over my mouth to muffle desperate screams;

Screams that could wake the dead and make your throat bleed.

Stop.

Breathe.

Keep it together; they are watching you.

SENSE

If I could never touch you again,

I’d still feel you on my skin forever.

If I could never smell you again,

Your scent would carry across the breeze for eternity.

If I could never see you again,

I’ll never forget the way you look at me.

If I could never hear your voice again,

Your lullabies would still sing me to sleep.

If I could never taste you again,

I’d make sure you were the last thing to ever touch my lips.

My world doesn’t make sense without you.

Word Warriors

Minds wide open; hearts unleashed

Yet we are rather timid beasts.

We yield words; they become our swords,

They are woven like blankets that keep us warm.

We start fires that burn so bright,

We paint stars in the darkest night.

On a mission with emotional ammunition;

Renegades with grammatical grenades.

Vulnerable verses, romantic rhymes

are some of the lines we hide behind.

Ironclad ideas and sonnet shields,

Protect us until we have fully healed.

Haunted

Down the hollowed halls,

Echoes call my name.

Creaking floors, squeaking doors,

Nothing sounds the same.

Mirrors are cracked,

Tarnish and rust.

Cobwebbed corners,

Memories are dust.

Silence, where our laughter

once loudly rang,

Empty spaces on the walls

where our pictures once did hang.

The lawn uncut and unkept,

and the garden overgrown.

Nothing left in this house

that made it a home.

Key left in the mailbox,

Forget and forgive.

For everything has died

where we use to live.