I am she and
You used to be
Our nothing
is yet something.
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
Blue snow and white tips
Blotting out the dark patches.
Our son has your eyes.
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
She opened
and fell
to
her
knees.
In his hands
the boots
the gun
the tags.
“I’m sorry,”
he said
and left.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
I love this, this quiet, this silence,
this absence of sound. Our thoughts
answering each other's and nothing
more. Unwhispered whispers and
nothing more. Bodies together and
nothing more. We are one in this space,
in this nowhere, this everywhere.
We are us in this feeling, in this
spirit, this communion.
We are.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
Shape the clouds.
Show me what I need to see.
The point is sailing right beyond me.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
You have no time for fear my dear,
You have no time for fear.
Go run and jump and play a while,
You have no time for fear.
Go show the world your crooked smile,
You have no time for fear.
Go find the love who fits your style,
You have no time for fear.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC
Driving on a road of glass,
the clouds under my wheels, I ask,
"Will you join me upside down
through a life we couldn't imagine?"
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
Where am I?
The spark, the light
the soul?
Give it back,
Whoever,
Whatever you are
that stole
Me.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
Mother may I take your hand, the one you waited for me to hold?
Mother may I spend hour after hour, day after day with you?
Mother may I fill your cup to the top with ice and pour you more pop?
Mother may I drive you to town and buy you every glittering piece of jewelry you lay your eyes on?
Mother may I clean the house until it makes you smile?
Mother may I call you anytime, day or night?
Mother may I fix all of your pains?
Mother, may I have you back now?
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
That isn't just dirt in the creases of his hands. It's dry earth he pushed through with a rusty plow behind two mules to prepare his land. It's slivers from the handles he gripped strongly and worked against. It's sweat he wiped from his brow as the sun scorned him. It's hair and **** and slobber from the horses and cows and pigs he tended. It's hard work. But mostly, it's love.
Love filled up every part of his hands, made them look ***** Love filled up a tiny valley as he stroked the long muscular neck hidden beneath the knotted mane of his favorite palomino. Love took its place in his hands as they planted each seed in a predestined hole in the ground. Love soaked the skin when sweat broke free to naturally cool him. Each time he caressed the velvet cheek of his bride with the vulnerable palm of his hand, love was there to leave her a tender tingle. Love acted as a pillow when she pressed her hand into his for comfort; it told her he was by her side and would be there when she needed. It was the fight his touch put into his wife just as she was becoming a mother. Love was the cradle as his baby girl was placed in his hands. Love was the peace his hands told his wife as she slipped away. Love was in his hands as he held his daughter's. Love was in his hands as they walked to the grave, and laid the flowers on it, and walked away.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC