kill your old stories slash and burn them to the ground… narrate something new.
kill your old stories slash and burn them to the ground… narrate something new.
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, who will drop everything for a friend, or even an acquaintance– set aside your plans or desires without even the slightest look back– or thought for SELF. She has taught you a very lopsided version of boundaries– barriers perhaps is a better word– walls which are programmed to spring into action when the …
I think it’s important I be up front about this now– before we traverse this path any further and then you look back at me incredulously and say– “hey, you could’ve warned a brother,”– so here’s your warning: I am a fiery bitch. Sure, I can be sweet and tender– and I’ve tapped into loving …
I’ve been moving through a lot of late. The thing I notice about myself most notably is just how quickly I seem to be processing things these days. What took me 12+ years just a couple of years ago is now taking weeks, days, or sometimes just hours. Some people might find it hard to …
this is for me. a necessary part of my process this singular narration a weaving of words to give birth to these feelings welling within– unnecessarily contained. The worlds of trust you are teaching with your reticence and fear are miraculous– though not without bruises and bumps– sometimes maybe even a little blood. i know …
i cannot compete with a ghost her hold upon your heart– gut wrenchingly precise. keeping you folded– a neatly stacked pile of protection, save those tiny glimpses of trust. Nor can i measure against a sweet babe, her newness and discovery perfectly prescribed for your carefully crafted vision of lonely. My arms cannot extend past …
We are helping to heal each other you and i traversing this stretch of time, an unwieldy highway, hand in hand. Watching the layers peel away feeling lighter with each small forward step increasingly aware of the young boy peering out from underneath the years of practiced pain– contained because you knew no other way. …
I never read the rules for mothering it seems I was absent that day perhaps all of us were. Carrying around the textbook burden of guilt, the weight of which mocks our shortcomings and reveals the all-too constant truth that we’re just winging it. Each new day, another brave face– scooping up the pieces …
a word of thanks, my gift to you whose foresight, exuding intuition masked beneath the cowardice of rationality– moved worlds beyond my will. Into an unknown certainty and the birth of a new and much more capable understanding of love. The recognition of giving and receiving in equal measure– a concept heretofore unknown by my …
the edges of myself 