Cigarette Stains & Pink Lips

The Making Process. Words of a Writer

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Introspection

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Tears of

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all don't heal

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We dont all heal

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My spirit will know yours when we meet.

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The wake up call

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Do not stop becoming. You are a beauty unfolding. I am blessed enough to watch.

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For you are a love I can give my self to

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Do not make a garden of all the hurt you have collected and wonder why your flowers never grow.

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And sometimes it is what you have seen and experienced growing up that stifles you the most. I have lived my life as a woman that kept fighting through life as if I had a bone to pick and the bone was truly never my own. I was just the result of it.

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Touch

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And with good reason

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The boundary

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Imbalance

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Lost

that Sunday was beautiful wasn’t it? when we lost our selves? there was the sun and the breeze, the ocean and our toes buried in wet sand. And laughter. laughter at nothing in particular, but it was heavy and sat in our stomach like a full meal. and it lasted all day long. i don’t undrestand why people are so busy trying to find themselves. i am more fascinated with losing the ways i think, the ways I live, the ways I exist. i wish I didn’t know about boundaries, or guidelines, or ways to fit in,or what is expected, or society, or the roles I must play. i wish I could lose myself. and, it’s crazy i know because so many people  busy trying to find them self. but i’d rather be lost. rid myself of the weight of things. be beholden to no thought, to no one, to nothing not even myself. 

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Was I not your night bloom? Did we not love each other well skin to skin, did we not find and then lose our self, then each other in the morning light.

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I was always my rock and my hard place.