I’m sorting through a lot of late. (When am I not?) But by far the most potent thing seems to be acknowledging and letting go of the stories I tell myself. (And I tell myself a lot of stories.) Many of them are based in truth, or partial truth– and have some vague notion of …
this is my limit picking up and letting go watch me walk away
you reveal to me things about myself which are staggeringly true.
a gentle sigh, an allowance, releasing that which has held a clutching grip for longer than i can possibly fathom– the simplicity of breathing in and out, finding my breath in full– allowing the grief that i didn’t know existed to flow gently down my cheeks– making tracks through the garden dust and grime. …
i remembered you yesterday the boy with a smile he couldn’t hide– the childish innocence running through the lines of your face. like uncovering an old box of records, full of songs you’d forgotten existed– but to which you know all the words. i remembered falling softly with you– into arms that seemed they’d never …
my heart hurts sometimes acknowledging growth is not without discomfort
I’ve closed my heart before locked it tightly– buried the key beneath layers of shoulds and coulds and woulds I’ve watched myself walk away treading carefully, moving backwards longing for an explanation some semblance of the truth I’ve understood the sting of rejection– internalized its pointy edges, embracing their lessons along with the …
You are infinite. You offer the universe What no one else can.
I spent all day in bed. When I went to sleep last night I was flirting with a sore throat, or perhaps it was flirting with me. In either case, I acknowledged it, dosed myself with what I had in my home remedy arsenal, and tried to settle in for a good night’s sleep. That …
Today you brought me soup. It was perfect, although its precision had nothing to do with the gift and everything– with the giver. Stretched out across a lazy afternoon, fingers running along the lines of your face– through your hair. my honey-coated throat– happier with you here. The sunshine poking its rays through my window …
the edges of myself 