Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

I Asked For A Sign and I Got It

Foxes yell the future into the silence of a starless night,

and I listen,

with trembling lips, so suggestible to your own.

The honey flows from the sky,

like acid rain,

destroying the old earth,

so something new can flower and bloom where my past used to pasture.

I can feel your fingertips on my right wrist,

like you are urging me to write a story,

where two princesses journey across ancient lands,

landing in each other’s laps.

I am writing, mi amor,

I am writing.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Hola, Mi Nombre Es

Sometimes I am a meadow of ash trees,

bold and endless,

born under Neptune,

and the shining tears of the sun.

Love is lost under my leaves,

Gods scatter and smile under my shadow,

and some days,

I am the home of the lonely,

letting you inside my heart,

letting you carve your initials into my core.

Sometimes I am a white wave,

purified, curated, created,

blessed and bewildering,

with darkness decorating the parts you’ll never see.

Daughter of bright beaches,

mermaids and laundresses,

twisting arms and making wishes,

making friends with blackberries in the cruel coolness of December nights.

Sometimes I am a meadow of ash trees.

Sometimes I am a white wave.

I am always nervous when meeting new people.

Hola, mi nombre es…

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Today Isn’t Unlucky, and Neither Am I

Ink,

irreversible,

rewriting the world,

then living inside of my letters.

At dawn,

I whisper sweetness to the universe,

paths of gold stick to my shoes,

my soul ascending,

while my body is tethered to the ground.

Repeating requests,

watching them unravel,

then wrap around me,

until I am complete.

I watch the universe fall in love with me,

gently rebuilding me,

rewarded for waiting,

for hurting.

I kiss my own reflection every morning,

shyly at first,

but forever more passionate,

because I am the favoured daughter of the Fortuna,

no longer in disgrace,

no longer longing for men’s eyes,

all alone,

but never truly forsaken.

Morning magic,

I lounge on clouds,

drawing the desires of my heart to her,

so she can be satisfied.

I don’t sink anymore,

I just wait,

wading.