I can't wash the smell of you off of my body.
I can't rid your touch from my hair.
The way your tongue wraps around mine,
About everything else... I just don't care.

The feeling of your face won't escape my finger tips.
Your eyes staring into mine...
Some sadness behind them still.
I want to hold you until they shine bright again.

You touch my collar bones.
I hold your hand.
We hardly talk.
We communicate through bands.

I see the images her all around your place.
But I forget it all when you look into my face.
"Let's go to bed."
That's fine with me.
We can pretend we don't cause each other misery.

When you hold me in your lap.
Regardless of who sees.
Is it alcohol or loneliness that fuels this need?

I can't escape your touch.
I can't forget the sound of your breath.
I can't wash away the scent of you.
I can't dismiss your touch.

Do I love you so much?
Or is it all about  a chase.
A love I'll never have...
I guess it has an exotic taste.

My Father: I Never Promised You a Rose Garden!
My Mother: Well I Never expected a thorn bush either!

I always thought it was quite funny
I remember this on sunny days
when my parents were driving my Father would ask my Mother if anything was coming from the other direction and he'd say:
"Is it okay George?
And my mother would say:
"Okay, Hit it Henry!!!"...I still have no real idea why...I remember and I sigh...
as a twinge of sadness comes sneaking in.

There were certain people that my Father did not care for and he would say they were snobs ..."****** intellectuals"... as a child I got confused by that but now it makes perfect sense....it was said without pretense.
I had to figure it out.

Without a doubt...
I have many fond memories of my family...especially my Dad, who really sacrificed more than anyone I've ever known
who sowed every seed he'd ever sewn
Raised 4 kids till they were grown
all the fading memories that I blindly used to perceive as bad...
have now melted into the Beautiful
They are now the things that endear me to them... as I remember...they make me smile for a little while.

My Father has passed now some five years... was born a simple man of simple means...
times for him or more than just a little lean
Shoes three sizes way to big
stuffed toes with old newspapers
a dresser drawer....fashioned Sisters crib
He was a Phoenix rising from those ashes
And he was never out of fashion...
a Master Carpenter... a builder of my dreams...
raising beams
dressed in denim bib overalls and a white T-shirt...a red, white and black bandana in his pocket to wipe his sweating brow

And now....ever since the day he died
I have tried...but my Mother and I now have this distant love
so I know he's still guiding me, and us from far above
I never would have made it this far
way too many scars...
It's a strange feeling to feel so very alone
feel like I have no real home
in the world...
I am a caretaker of an apartment....

I feel he would have done
anything for me  
he would never let me see...
such awful things
and be
down in such lonesome places
with strangers, such unfamilar faces
Or so I used to think

I've been at the very brink
Now I understand he wanted me to know
to struggle for my life and so I would grow
as even a thornbush would...
It taught me to be humble even when I couldn't walk
to listen and not to talk
even though I have my children, my progeny...
If sometimes I still can feel so very alone...
so no matter where my Gypsy heart roams
I carry those memories with me they are my church in the day...and in the night
I remember his final words
and I know.... it'll be alright
He taught me how to fight
and I am fighting beside him now...

I am carrying out his final wishes
I cook them in my famous dishes
My Father absolutely enjoyed the sharing of food...
Always was in the mood for something delicious...
So I sprinkle
them with his way
the things he'd often say
with his stoic compassion,
an understanding heart, so kind
I try to share his brilliant mind...
I am thankful that he wanted me and made certain I was here
His memory to me so dear...
with him I have no fear
Thank you Father
Thank you Daddy...
Love you Ma Cherie....

Cherie Nolan © 2016

He smiles kindly
and with a steady hand
dips brush into color,
decorating every inch
with precision and care.
He paints no two souls alike,
but yet leaves his distinct mark,
so bright and profound;
touched and, without question,
we’ve been bettered.
Each of us now proudly stretched,
on display for the rest of a lifetime.
A work of his art, never caged,
but free to come and go,
free to be.

Love letters and suicide notes
Torn out page
Scrap of life
No one stopping
To read the last lines
Forgotten envelopes
Lost life post
Another dead heart
Another souls ghost
Everyone dying
To find themselves a home
After writing their
Letters and notes
Just so they
Could feel less alone

To the boy who almost bought me flowers... But the store was closed.
Or he forgot,
or he couldn't choose,
because he couldn't remember my favourite flowers,
or he didn't care.

To the boy who almost loved me well.
The boy who almost made me a wife.
The boy who almost loved my flaws, but just couldn't quite grip them.
The boy who I almost lost myself in.
The boy who almost took everything I had, everything I believed.

The boy who almost killed me.

The boy who almost won the lottery,
until he lost his beautiful winning ticket.

To the boy who hurt the girl who cared so much that she almost forgot
to love herself more.
The boy who didn't think she could wake up and realize
that she deserved more than being
"almost" happy.

Sincerely,
The girl who is almost healed,
almost clean,
almost okay,
completely done.

The last time she said "I love you"
there was silence.

He said nothing.

And with the nothing he said, her world came tumbling down even further than it had already been.
He manipulated her,
He used her,
He disrespected her,
He belittled her.

He hurt her time and time again, but she was so in love with the idea of love that she kept coming back for more.
She didn't care that he didn't care about her.
She craved his touch, she craved his affection, and she would get it.
Only to be pushed away one final time, and realize love wasn't all it was made out to be.

The last time she said "I love you"
the silence broke her.

No wonder she's afraid of saying it to you.

Air,food,water and sunshine...these keep my body alive
But you my love are much more valuable to me
For you keep my soul alive
Therefore i cherish every moment with you
For a moment spent with you is like breathing oxygen for my soul