Verbatim

I feel like a stranger in my own bed When I don’t wake up by your side To the smile in your eyes, the whisper in the way you trace every ripple in my spine like the binding of your favorite book Caressing fine print with tender movements and tempting looks Meandering my hips and thighs, like you’ve thumbed through these passages before under quilted comforters and moonlight Haunted by every past impasse Down every dog-eared corner of residual horrors Collected in the dusty corridors of your consciousness Congested consciences How we’ve conned our senses into confusing the unavailable for more valuable Chasing after sunset thieves Insatiable greed which pocket picks the beauty out of everything Unseen efforts festered in the boils of what you once thought was love It’s tough Feeling like nothing you ever do is enough Scared your next romance Could be another chance of bad luck I’m not a gambling woman, but You got me putting my prayers into pots of gold Sparking four-leaf clovers under ...

It’s okay to be a speck of dust and magnificently grandiose at the same time.

Saying goodbye can’t even begin to describe… my wish to go back in time, the last time we actually saw each other for real when you really saw me as more than just a memory of the baby you raised In some ways, heartache seems to be the only thing propping me up by my puppet strings fighting against gravity - melding heavy boots into concrete going through the motions with the weight of these emotions expectations of a full life expectancy, some self-important legacy bearing the burden of mortality Grief is, in fact, a great expression of gratitude  …only great love could break a heart this way in the shadow of its presence perhaps grief is the horcrux of divine immortality existing in a seemingly magicless world amidst the most ordinary of moments as common as death Grief is what happens when the heart projects its love as far as it can reach to encompass the energy of their beloved absorbed into the infinite universe which surrounds us.