WhereWhere am I?
I called you out a hundred times
And you never came.
Who are you?
I see you before me each day
But you're long gone.
What they say?
I ask myself if I should listen
To the talking deaf.
When was this?
You speak of matters past
I do not recall.
Why do you?
You seek from me answers
I really can't find.
How can we?
That is what I ask myself
When I look to you.
Until Stars Unfold.Black and white shadows fall upon soft hands
Illuminating curves and making me understand
In front of green eyes are wisps of hair
I turn around and you're still lying there
Gently you breathe with a steady heart
A grace I realize more when we're apart
This silence you summon into your own space
Peacefully reminding me of our place
When you wake I will whisper in your ear
The truth that anyone would want to hear
I will lie by your chest until stars unfold
And capture these moments as they are told
Graceful is an Adjectivei.
Somewhere between the ravine and the sprawl of convenience stores I left footprints, halting and clumsy, on beaten pathways between bikers and dogs. I traversed slowly between pine trees and brush to the waters edge to catch frogs and skip stones, and dream.
I did not move with grace or any sense of proportion; I stumbled, tripped, and beat my way through the low lying undercoat of nettles and rose bushes to look into the swirling depths of the creek and wish, dream, hope for my prince. I am a princess and I need somebody with a strong shoulder and good wits to protect me, to make me graceful by proxy. I conjure images of our beautiful children who would be born with an innate sense of harmony, who could rond de jambe l'air and rond de jambe à terre from birth, their sissonne ouverte grande being their conception.
I have never been considered graceful; I have always been more worthy of the term inept, or awkward. I never spread my
a moment's blissa wave is crashing over me. it is comfort, it is warmth, it is everything good in the world. it is covering me, enveloping me, soothing me. it is becoming me:
sunlight streaming as heat onto my back while at the same time, a cool breeze ruffles my hair and i twirl in the shine and refuse to go inside, instead choosing to revel in the perfect weather.
thunderstorms from window sills and screen doors in the summertime, heavy droplets hitting my face and arms and getting goosebumps from the chilly, wet wind as i wonder at the dangerous beauty of weather.
the sound of a book spine cracking the first time i open it to inhale the smell of paper and ink, promising to myself that no matter how i change, this smell will always remain my favorite.
my cat as she presses up against my leg, a comforting weight that never feels oppressive, even when it is sitting on my chest; a presence that, no matter how old, will always be there when i wake up or go to sleep or cry or