Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

A Wish

A wish.

Wistful and unexpected,

welcome at the right time,

reaching out to reign me in,

so I am safe again.

Sincerely,

some kind of happiness,

hidden away,

until it rains,

and I need to be warm and dry,

a new life,

jumping off the edge,

into unknown depths.

Life is stubborn,

sweet,

sometimes.

Life is such an elusive lover,

no matter how many times

I try to be faithful.

I inherit confidence,

and influence,

from the women I have been,

on days where I was wistful,

unexpected and untroubled.

My heart is heavy,

harmed,

hazardous,

but I feel the future could be kind.

I want the future to be kind.

I want my wishes to be mine.

 

 

 

Posted in Blog, Personal

Carried Away

I made a clean start,

breaking away,

walking through the fire,

I’d waited to light.

I am at home,

with who I become

when I get carried away.

Take me away.

Show me where else my life could go.

I have a forest in my dreams,

where we escape,

and I am excitable,

like a little child,

because life is beginning again,

and I feel alive again,

and I am healing once again,

breathing your ambitions for me,

into my skin.

Maybe you’re just another mistake,

or maybe you’ve always been my path,

and I was just lost before.

 

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

1 Day

Maybe I hold onto you,

long after you’ve left,

so that I’ll always feel you’re mine,

never having to accept that I’ll lose you again.

It’s easier to ignore the reality,

of life and it’s sickening cruelty,

if I just close my eyes,

hearing my inner monologue in your voice,

kinder tones,

kinder times,

no suitcase in the hallway,

just two pairs of shoes,

that know,

deep in their soles,

that they are soulmates.

There are knocks on my door,

a frightening thunder,

that gets closer,

the further you get,

I barricade,

with each thing that you said,

because though I could let them in,

and be loved,

at long last,

they would never be you.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

I Am a Goddess

I am a goddess.
I wonder what it will feel like to live.
I hear the sound of the clouds, impossible, inspirational.
I see a new day.
I want what I deserve.
I am a goddess.

 

 

I pretend I am a human.
I feel accomplished in my performance.
I touch the darkest part of my soul, and all the secrets it has silenced.
I worry that I’ll never live forever.
I cry about my crimes, and all the ways I’ve marked myself.
I am a goddess.

 

 

I understand that life goes on.
I say that I decide when I do.
I dream about my diary entries.
I try to write myself better.
I hope my dreams come true.
I am a goddess.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Nothing Is True

My mother’s womb is the ocean.

I cover my dreams,

and suspicions in foundation.

I have been darker than a doomed room,

broken home that sometimes glistens.

When I listen to silence,

I am breathing in bright rhythms,

paying visits to pacific parts of my heart,

untouched by ugly aspects.

Nothing is true,

when everything is in pencil,

erasable,

escapable.

I tell my future,

I’d like to make a go of it,

taking cough medicine,

on a high speed train,

with a clear throat.

I don’t know the location.

The confusion is exquisite.

Never knowing where I’m going,

is a special sort of hell,

where I don’t realise that I’m dead,

until my bones are bare,

baring the truth.

photo of man riding a surf board

My mother’s womb is the ocean.

I washed up,

with bottles and corpses.

I am on a journey,

to a place,

that I’m not sure will be there,

when I arrive.