My Candle Burns For You

my candle burns for you

My Candle Burns For You
Weeks go by,
Months even
My affections remain the same.
I stare at my candle
Unlit, blackened tip
Remembering our night
Under the stars
Under the flickering ceiling,
Under cover.
Silence, on a carpet
Silence, on a road
Silence, on the sand
Silence, on each other.
Wild and free
I am your home
As you are to me.
Delicate music
Plays in my ears
As I read you.
How is your day?
Come with me
Come with me tonight
Hold my hand
Again, and again, and again.
There you are.
I know your smell.
I saw you naked this morning,
Your skin is colder than mine
It’s okay though, it’s just fine.
Nothing will diminish
Your great beauty.
You call to me
Elementally, essentially
Taste the wild inside me.
My beloved garden.
My river of fireflies.
Write me, run with me
I am a woman,
Press your cheek against God’s
As you study my biology.
Meet me in the medial nature
As the man.
Search my skin
Break the rules
Prescient and visceral
Your tongue knows
My first language.
Thank you,
My binary star
And the infinite
Light that guided us home.
I place the unlit candle back.
Safe inside my drawer
For a later time
When I talk to you,
Once more.

The Little Inventor

CHINESE NEW YEAR

The Little Inventor
There once was a little girl
Who invented a time machine.
Sitting underneath her pine tree.
She clanked the parts together
Screwing a bolt in here
And hammering the metal down flat.
No one would believe her
Except something was different
The day that she came back.
Her voice had changed
Now soft and quiet.
And her eyes had aged, too.
Neighbors whispered, “problems at home.”
Her distant parents didn’t know what to do.
Teachers would advise private school,
Doctors peddled medicines,
The little girl just sat calmly, staring lightly
Awaiting more problematic comparisons.
She saw this day, the days between
The days before.
Wearing an uncomplicated smile
Daydreaming, breathing
Of the memories at the shore.
She kept growing up, growing older
Almost surprised with every year.
Lovers tried to learn her
Family always concerned with her
As she lived a life free, and without fear.
She saw her parents die,
And bore many children.
She loved, and loved, and loved
With abandon.
Yet, only the moon understood
How she circled ’round and ’round
Admiring and witnessing
Watching and waiting,
But never really feeling
Her feet plant in the ground.
Without questions and patiently present
Dancing in her favorite dream.
Reliving and rendezvousing with
Familiar faces, in slightly new spaces
Projecting from her mind
Onto a private movie screen.
A once young time traveler
Now faded and aging into her foreshadowed scenery
Elasticity leaving her once supple skin.
Lovingly longing out the window at the pine tree greenery.
Why did she come back to this life, one might wonder?
The stars sang of exaltation, relief of recognition
The moon now sighing at the poetry of her rendition.
She jumped in puddles,
Kissed a doe on the nose.
Sang so loud her voice gave out
And smelled an evening primrose.
Now standing at the foot of her shore,
Awaking as the little girl once more
Under her pine tree,
On Earth’s loving floor.

Wear Me

wear me

Wear Me
Her eyes are red
Bearing his tears
His hurt wears her
As the sun turns to set

She reaches out a hand
In her striped blue sweater
His loneliness wears her
As the sun turns to set

Her nightmares continue
Longing to sleep naked again
His tiredness wears her
As the sun turns to set

She is without poetry
A voice once ‘prolific’
His words wear her
As the sun turns to set

Her shadow doesn’t move
For the first time
His silence wears her
As the sun sets.

Come to Me

COME TO ME

Come to Me
Open your eyes.
Don’t look away,
I want to show you my body.
I daydream every day
About lifting my dress over my head.
Feeling the contrast
Of your hands on the warmth
Of my velvet skin.
You have yet to feel the strength of my thighs.
Or how delicate my fingertips can be
On the curve of your low back.
Our eyes whisper
Forgotten articulations of intimacy
More complex than walnut burl searing
In a healthy winter fire.
Lips like crushed figs
Swallowing with anticipation
To kiss you, please let me.
Trembling, quivering, pulsing.
Nourish me with the sparkling contents
Of your smile as you see my vulnerability.
And then don’t make me wait.
I have felt the pressure of your excitement
Against me,
Subtle movements pressing closer
The bulge of your affections
And I want it.
All of you.
The way I had you now and then.
The glisten of sweat,
Boiling the blood
Like a kettle I will let you know when I am ready
But take your time.
Taste me, I’m sweet
And I want to hear all of your noises.
See my secrets, my scars,
Smell my sexuality,
And move into me.
See my fevered eyes
As I rake my fingers down your chest.
I want you in my hands, in my mouth
I have felt you everywhere but there.
Make me pant, hear my gasps,
Write your name inside me.
Bury your face into my hair
As I push myself selfishly closer
Covet me. Cover me.
Come to me.
Oh my dear,
How I miss you.

Loneliness Is Just A Label

LONELINESS IS JUST A LABEL

Meditating last night, I found myself chanting “sit” on repeat.  Going through my mala beads at least twice, maybe three times consistently reminding myself to “sit.”

“Sit, sit, sit, sit, sit, sit..”  and so it went.

Having been born in a house of chaos, it’s been challenging for most of my adult life to sit still in times of uneasy emotional circumstances. Instinct tells me to run away from the feelings, either by moving to another apartment, city or even state.  Instinct also tells me to lose all the friendships I’ve made, destroy or abandon them all and start anew.  It’s fear-based, it’s fear that people are getting too close, it’s fear that tells me to run.

I’ve moved 20 times in the last 12 years because of this flight-based instinct.  I have recreated my life and developed new friendships more than I can count.  Only showing people what I want to show them and leaving the rest as the past, fearing judgment, criticism or inability to relate.

Sitting in uncomfortable moments where our anxiety is high, our emotions are abusively loud and our hearts are aching, are signs of true growth.  If I can sit quietly with my pain long enough, I can uncover the root of the disturbance.  In this circumstance, like most children of alcoholics, my root was and usually is, loneliness.

I was alone in my childhood.  My dad traveled 90% of the time. He was home for maybe 1 weekend a month for 15 years.  When he was home, he was devastatingly drunk.  To put this into perspective, my dad usually drank about a half gallon of vodka a night.  So when I say he was drunk, I mean he was terribly drunk.  That led to fights, slurs, stumbles, accidents, hurt and eventually him passing out with a lit cigarette in his hand – to which I often put out at the end of the night when I heard it was finally quiet, and safe.

My mom started out as a very loving and doting mother.  But, from the years of isolation and an inability to self-reflect or grow on her own, she too began to drink as a coping mechanism.  Alcoholism ran in her family as well so it came as no surprise why she married a drunk or why she herself found it easy to treat her symptoms with alcohol.  However, that left my sister and I very much alone.

I responded to this by becoming a classic internalizer.  I felt so much of the responsibility in my household that when problems arose, I turned the blame on myself and wanted to mediate the entire family until there was peace again.  Which, there could never be because alcoholism doesn’t allow that.  I often found myself depressed, anxious and drained by the internal voice in my head constantly criticizing and accusing me of things I’d never really done.

Because of this internal monologue, I decided it was probably better for me to just live in the woods, so that’s what I did.  I retreated inward, into my dark cave of anger, confusion, hormones, self-hatred and dying light of childhood and went into the woods.  I slept under the stars, exhaled the sunrise, listened to fawns gingerly walking towards me on the ever-so-loud crunchy autumn leaves.  And in this solicitude, I started to find some semblance of peace.  But, I also found loneliness.

It took me another 10 years to figure out how to quiet my mind, sync in with myself and my world and my love and realize that I’m never alone.  It took me 10 painstaking years of dating, promiscuity, drinking, drugs, depression, anger, boxing and eventually deep-healing for me to fill that often-referred-to as “God-sized” hole inside of myself.

Now, when I hear myself chanting “sit,” I remember that fawn walking on those leaves.  I see the slideshow of grief and moves and echoes of myself – and they all remind me that I am here, I am whole, I am worthy and I am forever surrounded by love because I am love.  Fear was only a self-induced mechanism to aid in my survival.  Loneliness was just another label for something I didn’t understand, which was quiet.

“Sit, sit, sit, sit, sit, sit..”  and so it goes.

The Original Song

THE ORIGINAL SONG

Inspired by Robert Frost’s poem yesterday, I wrote the following poem.  But before we get into that, I want to share a little bit about silence.  I spoke with my cousin last night who was distraught upon finding out her best friend had been hit by a car.  He was seriously injured, but alive.  She told me about how when she found out, she called multiple friends but no one answered.  She felt “alone in the universe, I just felt like I was left floating there.”

I remember this feeling back in my depression, I felt so alone and unheard, unwanted and living in fear.  Just as she was.  I explained to her that the unhealthy side of our brains, the parts of us unhealed, hurting, the addictions, the self-indulgences, the justifications, the instant gratifications, etc. That side always tells us bad things.  Our brains are hardwired to make us feel better – at whatever the cost.  When we were hungry as primal creatures, our brains would solve problems to get us nourishment.  When we needed shelter, we would creatively find a solution.  That has not changed, only our problems have.

We now need to be “perfect;” warm, comfortable at all times, loved by everyone, successful, eat the most balanced diet, post only the most beautiful pictures on Instagram, and have the most loving and adoring relationship.  This list goes on and on.  Our brain is constantly trying to give us the best solutions to all of our problems.  For those of us who have unhealthy tendencies; eating to cope with stress, suicidal thoughts, using sex, drugs, alcohol, etc. It’s very easy to let that side have the loudspeaker.  But there is another side.

The healthy side, in that moment for my cousin, was telling her to take some silence.  No one answered the phone calls, but the universe answered the real call. Be quiet in your grief, in your fear, in your hurt.  She wasn’t alone in the universe, because she was WITH the universe.  And this beautiful world wanted her to make a healing wish for her friend and for herself.  Sometimes, silence is the answer.  That is where we grow, evolve, learn and understand ourselves more fully.

Our greatest strength, our greatest wisdom and our greatest kindness is silence. That is our original song.  Silence and love.

The Original Song
Never have I met someone like you
Apologetically heroic while healing hearts.
Kind severity that stares straight through
Unabashed, unadulterated, a destiny long overdue,
Spoken softly, a secret of honey burns at our hearths.

Love letters left on pillowcases,
Sunsets seeping from the text;
A humanity overwhelmed with familiar faces,
Flowers filling up the blank spaces –
In between the places like lovers might suggest.

Words falling short and gracelessly falling out,
Inexplicable in nature, what a marvel you are
Like God himself is even devout.
The land lacking light, without and in drought
And then you, like Renoir, painted the sky with heaven’s first star.

 

Too-Personal Plane Poetry

TOO-PERSONAL PLANE POETRY

I am currently writing a response to the brave woman who responded to Ask Me Your Questions, Tell Me No Lies.  In the meantime, I’ve got some new poetry to share.  I’ve been on a recent business trip so I’ve been spending the last two days on planes to and from the west to east coast and back again.  Along these travels, I’ve been inspired to write a few new poems.  Surprisingly, for whatever reason the poems arising are a bit salacious in nature and likely too-personal to be writing on a plane (next to strangers).

Alas, when the mood strikes… I hope you all enjoy my first edition of “Too-Personal Plane Poetry.” (Hopefully, while also sitting next to strangers.)

The smell of you…
heavies my hurried heartbeat
and tickles down my spine.
Fingers spellbound to pull you into me,
an invitation I’ve yet to decline.

Dazed by the heat of your breath,
grazing of my lips on your ear.
Change my chemistry,
Raise my frequency,
Oh please, just keep me near.

Breathing is a rhythm now,
suddenly aware of the fullness of my breasts.
Your fingertips ice skate on my skin,
I daydream one will slip under my shirt,
just accidentally, momentarily, but I will let you in.

Can I breath a little deeper?
My lungs overflowing with you.
Melting of my muscles,
while others worship the fevered seduction of you.