First kiss at the psych ward, strap me to the gurney
Deliver me from evil, tempt me eternally
Lucifer’s hellhound is space bound like my mentality- Venus.
To be great like em-inem I bet he has a big (rocket ship)

Alliteration, pronunciation like Smash Pan-
Alley where we used to fight about it.
Drinking king cans by the river
A blimp of a memory drifting endlessly

Listen to your voice emanate synchronicities
Haunting me vocally as I condemn myself to his servitude, I’m holy
Saint of the church like Mother Theresa, pray with my rosary
For forgiveness.

Undress me slowly, ripe for the picking
A flower blooming seductively under duress of the past atrocities committed upon me
by trauma
I own that ****, I’m a sinner.

Repentance for misdirected animosity
Be who you are
And love endlessly.  

©rhetoricalcuriosity

One month and eleven days
Each daybreak reminding me of star crossed lovers personified
Broken hearts and plumes of choreographed chemistry
Satan’s integrity
Blinking down souls of the ******
My studio album titled: Damaged Goods Handle with care, she’s a little fragile.
Pick up right where we left off
Bookmark that moment for later
Somethings amiss
Return to sender
Circle the drain with your epinephrine
Pop a pill and play make believe
Time is running out
Advanced circuitry
Choke me harder
Oh sweet nicotine
You’re a scoundrel
I’m your lovesick Queen

The delicate curvature of your lips
Swirling arousal around my hips
Trailing deliciously intimate kisses

Until you’re enjoying yourself amongst my soft inner thighs;

Warmth trailing by moonlight
We kiss and the night is lost within your deep blue eyes.

@RhetoricalCuriosity

“I wanted to be happy,”
The words crept from my lips like scurrying little spiders when their home.
Disturbed amongst darkened cobwebs in an untouched dingy room.
Intrusive thoughts-
Dismaying salvation of apathologized compliance.

Masking behaviour for acceptance.
“Stop spinning in that chair- it’s annoying”
Self expression became punishable,
dismaying youth- retribution beyond reasonable understanding.
Belted and crying,
“Please stop, it hurts.”
Fearful avoidance-
Nothing feels safe.

Transmitting adulthood with repressed memories though awakened by medical emergency of your cat.
Navigating uncertainty since July; desperately attempting to understand inner workings of trauma brain.
Complex post traumatic stress disorder.

Medical diagnosis though intrusive thoughts still catastrophic.
Chronic pain with desolation-
Desperately craving the touch of another human.

Covid times; worsening depression, combatting betraying myself with fathers abusive words while unproductively masquerading oversleeping.
Powerlifting self regulation,
though collapsing under the bar.
If they wanted to talk to you,
they would make effort.

Though I still fawn my way to self acceptance.
After all;
That’s what my parents taught me to do.
©rhetoricalcuriosity

I’ll tongue circles around
the determination
to experience    
intimate attraction.

My poison apple,

addicted.
With just one kiss,
on those
******* perfect
lips.  
X



©rhetoricalcuriosity

Communication

My renunciation
Susceptibility, damage
Feedback induced through operation,
Controlling
Is that how you present gratitude?
I exemplify what’s been demonstrated to me.
Reverence hands over convictions,
Trust.
Reciprocating through leaving.
I propel,
Direct forward,
Jurisdiction.
The flight into atmospheric impression,
Infatuation.
Provoking anxious attachment styles,
Complex childhood trauma.
Lack of interaction.
I purge my wrongdoings,
Request resolve.
I reprise intention for consistent trust,
Enchantment.
You aren’t alone anymore.
Genuine appreciation requires discipline.
Truthful emotion holds no possession.
Flicker of what authentic sentiment,
Entailing.
Including a merge
Unaccounted for in detachment.
©rhetoricalcuriosity

I live secret from the divine

I live like some feel in dream when time is forever gentle

Gentle forever is time when I can dream
©rhetoricalcuriosity

Haunted by the memory of your touch on my flesh
Trickling water over your shoulder blades running over the place by your hips I like to kiss.
Midnights are for lovers but so is five and six am as day breaks and I’m still enamoured within the area code where sound escapes your lips one last time before I gather my things and go.
Bidding Adieu.  
©rhetoricalcuriosity

I glance around the room eyes coming to rest blankly on the surfaces in which your essence hasn’t touched.
You’re everywhere, swirling around like a misting of mystery.
Mildew takes to the cracks of my foundation pressed for waterfalls adorned with your love - a fragment of Jupiter sprouting from antique headdress and residing softly amongst shelter of my lungs.
Mourning you is never pleasantly accepted
Forever yours, never again.
Repeating melodies crawling with June bugs and riot gear.

The war is inside us, suffer mentally into delusions.
Become the thighs of retributive policies.
Daybreak from heavens the angels are calling.
Fornicate brethren church on heathen property.
Exchange admiration for apology
Such simplistic words escape your mouth
While you critique the work I produced as heavens lost property.

Fallen archangel.
I am God’s *****.

©rhetoricalcuriosity

Warm evening air tickles my exposed flesh
A person walks by asking me how I am, I respond bleakly- though not reverberating with malice
Dependant is what I would call myself,  though depending on who asks I might be a queen of darkness
Swimming the cesspool captivating minds eye.

Children holding skateboards untouched by nihilistic melodies
Carpe Diem nevertheless since noctem brings the only memories scabbed away midsummer picking the heartbreak off your chest.
Hymns of breath lost kissing a battle with time and isolation.

Familiarity shadowed illusionist mortality
Cradling death of fragility.  
A lone hare hops along the sidewalk and I tell it to stay off the roadway.
The dogs are watching as dusk falls apart once again.
I am but a peddler for your touch.
©rhetoricalcuriosity

The raindrops are falling, masking your tears as you walk out into the rainstorm.
Your clothing is soaked through.
His words ringing out over and over again inside your head.

Too much. Too emotional.
You didn’t know how Gaslighting sounded yet.
You contemplate with thoughts he’s unfaithful as you walk directionless into the storm.
You try to ignore that gut feeling.
He buys you stuff and says he loves you.
He doesn’t have *** with you or touch you.

He won’t notice you’ve left and when you return you’ll pretend your wet face is only because the rain.

“I went for a walk”- you think though you know it won’t even escape your lips.
He never noticed anymore when you’re upset, he focuses his energy elsewhere.
Living inside his cellphone, withholding affection like all your boyfriends had.
Once he caressed your face and told you that he thought you were the most beautiful.

How many times did that line escape his lips with his past partners?
He called you beautiful twice in two years.
“I’ve never loved anyone before, not like this”.
How could you trust again after manipulation so suavely damaging?
Being a sudden caregiver to his child was complicating traumatizing.
You began to shut down and he offered no help.

“What do you expect me to do?”
He can’t ring back motherhood- though you’re just his “live in babysitter” you began to preform parental duties consisting of two parents.
Obliterating your role from caregiver to best friend.
Even though you often abandoned her with me while you were preoccupied with more important stuff than her.
What could have been more important than her?
Oh, right.

I washed everything.
I cleaned every mess.
I patented two children.
One thirty five one the same age of a child I placed for adoption-
You took everything from me.
And then you took the only thing that made me feel whole those years I played housewife.
I mourn the loss of the child I was caregiver to- my ex boyfriends daughter.

And even still- after everything horrible you told people about me.
How insane I was.
How I watched you sleep.
How many times did I wash your clothes.
Trim your fingernails.
Massage your feet.
You ******* coward- a happiness thief (wolf) in sheep’s clothing to blend in with the fragility.

A parcel of conviction.
Sleepless nights wondering if you were out dead- though your **** was messaging the inside of someone else’s ******.
And even still.
You lost everything and I did too.
But I ended up stronger than you.

Kirsten; like any wicked step mother you’d read about in children’s story books.
Her presented facade dissolved quickly with days passing since we arrived to reside in her home.
Ample kindness mixed with my first real impression of what narcissistic personality looked like.
Classically she had no children of her own at the time she was exactly the age I am now as I pen this unpleasant memory.
Oddly enough our body types are nearly identical though she was taller with short curly hair often chemically relaxed and dyed a darkened shade of red.
She was the only example of a plus size woman I’d ever interacted with; with a large chest I wished to resemble  when I grew up.
I was eleven at the time and extremely flat chested though I’d developed rosebuds when I was five being the overweight child.
Kirsten loved us- or she pretended detrimentally.
We bonded over the two plump tabby cats she owned though I detested doing the litter- being guilted into it because she had multiple sclerosis although argumentatively she’d have done the litter herself long before I came along.
Adult excuses though whereas her illness was real she didn’t really do much of anything after we came along.
Normalcy was just that at first- family sit down dinners around this white table with cylindrical chairs specked grey and white cushions.
I’d always be yelled at for crossing my one leg under my rear as I’d sit.
“You’ll break the chair that way, stop it” they said on the regular as I’d never remember.
Truthfully that position was comfortable and the chairs never broke.
One resided in my fathers empty home till a week ago- as strong as back in 2001.
Dad and Kirsten were heavy smokers at that point, chain smoking regularly in the front room of Dudley street though the smell would seep through the crevasse and deposit itself remarkably amongst the house.
She’d buy me identical clothes to her- one pink and white fuzzy sweater in particular then berate me for copying her. After all, a very narcissistic thing to do with me being  ******* eleven.
I loved that woman more than I’d care to admit.
She was my first motherly figure after being removed from the home of my severely mentally ill birth mother- she was still a form of normalcy though our relationship deteriorated unrealistically quick.
Before the family split up; we had a sit down dinner though Kirsten wasn’t present.
Having an MS flare I asked how she was when she trapped past the kitchen table toward the washroom.
Innocently enough, I was not prepared for the extremely violent outburst directed toward me- 12 at the time.
For the life of me I don’t recall the words though something like how much she did for our ungrateful family and I ran off to my bedroom without dinner crying from this unwarranted attack.
Everything changed after that point.
That was one of the only times my father emotionally soothed me; their life deteriorated into nightly fights and our fairytale life traversed into a puff of dust.
Kirsten was a dangerous reoccurrence for years after though the veil of particular wonderment was long forgotten.
I needed a protective female presence though I received a covert narcissistic *******.
C’est la vie.

“I wanted to be happy”
The words crept from my lips like scurrying little spiders when their home disturbed amongst darkened cobwebs in an untouched dingy room
Intrusive thoughts
Dismaying salvation of pathologized compliance
Masking behaviour for acceptance
“Stop spinning in that chair- it’s annoying”
Self expression became punishable
Dismaying youth- retribution beyond reasonable understanding
Belted and crying
Please stop, it hurts
Fearful avoidance
Nothing feels safe
Transmitting adulthood with repressed memories though awakened by medical emergency of your cat
Navigating uncertainty since July; desperately attempting to understand inner workings of trauma brain
Complex post traumatic stress disorder
Medical diagnosis though intrusive thoughts still catastrophic
Chronic pain with desolation
Desperately craving the touch of another human
Covid times; worsening depression combatting betraying myself with fathers abusive words while unproductively masquerading oversleeping
Powerlifting self regulation though collapsing under the bar.
If they wanted to talk to you
They would make effort
Though I still fawn my way to self acceptance
After all;
That’s what my parents taught me to do.

We sit around my aunts brown kitchen table
A scene we’ve done a thousand times before where I slinked unnoticed behind my hair until it was turn to recite my yearly accomplishments.
Back into the shadows.
This time is different.
This time my father is dead.
Suicide.
He went missing 24 hours before.
“Your fathers illness took him”
He was diagnosed with a neurological disease months prior.
We never spoke.
No it didn’t, my brain screamed.
Suicide.
I run to the kitchen in panic trying to find clonizapam which I almost never take cause I’m afraid of pills.
“What are you taking, doing drugs won’t numb your pain”.
He’s a cop, of course anxiety meds would be seen as “drug addiction”.
“I’m having a panic attack” I muster, angrily from the displaced shame.
I don’t take the pill out of spite and we don’t say anything on the 30 minute drive to his house.
I’m probably sheet white, I feel anxious.
I feel nothing.
I haven’t cried.
We had a terrible relationship, dad and I.
Terrible.
Suicide.
Hours pass.
Minutes?
I dunno, I’m dissociating into everyone’s grief.
Stop talking to me.
I don’t want to be here.  
So many unanswered questions, ones I still don’t know nearly a year later.
Silence and awkwardness.
I sit at the head of their table and avoid everyone’s eyes except my little brothers.
They’re all staring at me, finally paying attention to me after so long.
I hate it.
I want to disappear, their eyes like pathetic little daggers of sadness.
Why the **** am I here?
Someone mentions my tattoos.
Yeah.
I have tattoos.
Tattooed hands, and a dead father.
I only cry when my brother does.
Telling him it’s a suicide, a face I’ll never forget and my soul left behind at the death of his innocence.
Nothing left to protect.
Our father is dead.
6 days till the year death anniversary.
I don’t cry as much as I had after the veil finally shattered.
I’ve never known depression like that; though I was able to find myself after severe heartache.
A traumatized youth.
C-ptsd.
Pass me the join, I need to sleep.

The delicate curvature of your lips
Swirling arousal around my hips
Trailing deliciously intimate kisses
Until you’re enjoying yourself amongst my soft inner thighs;
Warmth trailing by moonlight
We kiss and the night is lost within your deep blue eyes.

You tell me you love me
(No one loves me)
You tell me people care
(I am alone)
You say I am beautiful
(I am ugly)
You tell me it gets better
(It won’t)

I never believe you that it gets better
But it always does

You walk up to the porch, muddy boots disturbing settled dust
Looking down, you proceed to wipe boots off
I cringe slightly as muck settles into my crevices
You finish your task and step onward toward warmth, leaving your wake behind
***** and dripping wet
“Let me get the door for you”, I say happily  as I brush the dirt off my clothes following you inside.

Somberly.
Depression is a creeping song of sadness when you have no reason to be sad.
A nightmare call of eerie, haunting melodies- darkening thoughts creeping.
Excessive slumber, chemical imbalances and a train derailment inside your mind.
Calamity.
Whispering defeat- please give up.
That's what the narrative of negativity your brain tells you everyone wants.
Just give up.
Make them happy.
Nobody really loves you.
Rejoices of forlorn dynasty.
You were never meant to be anything more than this suffering.
When you're depressed you hyperfixate on these scenarios of darkness.
Words you fabricate others must mean about you- for the complexities of self righteous believers dominate your lack of serotonin.
Conjure positive creations out of these overpowering lies- you are nothing- you tell yourself over again.
And I wonder why I embark on this painful dance of disaster with my depressive mind.
Disassociate into sleep-
Don't overeat.
You'll be fine.

Darkening night sky
Crescent moon shape between you and I
Taste of lust on your lips
Hand brushes slowly up my thigh.

Whisper your name
Fist clenched sheets
Learning the language your body speaks.
Bringing me toward my defeat.

Mother is broken
Her heart pumps blood through her veins like everyone else
Lungs breathe air to keep her alive, yet deep down I know she is different.
Her eyes are a brilliant shade of green
I adore her yet she terrifies me.

That earth shattering silence of winter has returned to us.
Too frigid outside to venture forth.
Bone chilling winds blow, making our bodies quiver.
Finally protected by the warmth of happiness.
I no longer fear winters longevity.
Together we are kept safe within the hallway of tranquility your daughters laughter brings.
Nestled deeply within the quarantine of a self made family.
Strangers once through the varying degrees of different worlds.
Knowingly creating something from time.
My soul layered within yours, within hers, and hers within yours.
Three is my most hopeful number.

Curdled cream and three separate drafts of a memory I can't quite pen properly.
Disappointment inbound, pouring the first cup of freshly brewed coffee down the drain.
Had I checked the date this wouldn't have been a waste of $4; but a solemn reminder of analogies leaping from my brain.
Cycle of sleeping all day to lie awake during the nighttime, overthinking. Curtains of feeling bad about inability to wake normally, darkness of the evening encompassed I finally pull myself out of the bed.
Despite this current pattern, last winter undoubtedly worse with feelings of self destruction and loathing.
For currently I do not cry every waking hour, just wish I was different with no apparent response to change.
Cats continue to be stricken with yet another upper respiratory response to declined immune system of an exotic breed.
Lost debit card, jobless flounder.
No appetite or desire to binge eat for the first day of my existence.
Headlight reflections crawl across the ceiling and I'm suddenly five years old again, afraid of almost everything.
Summer evenings when the whipper-well called out haunting symphony of their nighttime songs.
I never quite believed they were birds, moreover monsters and I never heard those calls other than childhood.
My father outside, and I in the grass.
Childhood wonder as he climbed a ladder to retrieve me a piece of the moon.
Wide eyed awe at this miraculous feat, my father could reach the moon.
Unnoticed by young eyes, the moons sphere just out of reach by trillions of lightyears.
A rock plucked off the driveway.
He must've been proud of his farce, my bewilderment and excitement beaming.
I love you.
Twenty five years later, a memory I haven't connected to in decades.
Perhaps the next time I look to the man in the moon, I'll see your face etched softly on the surface.
That radiating glow reminding me things will be alright.
It's been an odd winter, my heart is cooled more than our weather as of late.
Somewhere through the forests of Sandilands Provincial forest a deer crunches across the snow.
Silence, except for its breath, a softness.
Trees encompass, nurture and protect.
You are home.

Daylight emanating coils of uncertainty from within myself
Trajectory for unwavering retribution
I am lost among the crevices thy mind creates, etching fabrications with regression
U n w o r t h y
U n l o v e a b l e
F a t


Grievances I whisper from blanketed sheath depression
Thoughtless lies birthed onto soft flesh and bone
I am worth......
                                         less.

Damage inflicted, heartbroken thoughts coveted blissful time spent among your breath.

Unkind to myself during depressive episodes, clockwork fabrications intertwined rationality.
Those become a new truth forging insecurities of panhandle insecurities



You are more than the darkness surrounding you.

Your eyes were my own private river, bathing in the ring of blue around your iris. Enamored with the greenery protected by your eyelashes.
November to February not long enough to drown beneath them

I am plagued by the ghost of your reassuring caress
Your breath during nighttime a missing comfort
For alone I am surrounded by darkness.
Moments spent cradling cobwebs of each-others limbs
Intricate designs casting from our bodies as we felt like one in the same.
Our allure as a couple outshone the mundanes of just a ****** attraction
My soul felt yours
                                          







         ­                                     but I am alone,
                                                    
     ­                                          with the overbearing grief of love lost.




                                                       ­                                  March 16th, 2020



          Darling,
                                      please find your way back home.

My entire adult life spent through selfies adorned with false smiles, vanity portraying the "best version" of myself.
My own body delusions still presented without filter, although masked.
Raw, vulnerable photographs through my weakest moments, tear strings, pink cheeks and red eyes aren't something I've felt comfortable posting.
However posed my photos are, they still aren't altered.
Playing up my own dysmorphic disorder from youth yet grasping my own beauty seen as overly vain.
Early youth Ex boyfriends told me selfies were extremely narcissistic, and made me seem rampant for attention.
But does a girl who has such little following still seek approval of others when they don't like photos?
I'm not sure.
My instagram feed is dull.
It's not uniform or beautifully choreographed.
I often hide photos, as I too enjoy hiding myself from time to time.
I intended on leaving an imprint of all these useless photos I've taken over the last decade. Physically I no longer share similar traits to younger versions of myself, though mentally I've changed overall time and time again. People have called me iron-clad, the strongest person they know.
But am I?
My body embellished with secrets of a personality I used to be too afraid of showing men until this fall.
How many basic accommodations I've missed out on, how my body soaks up the granules of this love.
My being is a season, wise in my own way and mystic in terms of value.  
Windows beaming with warm midday sunlight, and crispy fall mornings.
Evolving rituals, moonglow and warmth. Certain darkness like still plotted night skies. Teetering vulnerability, and overstuffed closet.
Days less spent pining over lost dysfunction, and moreover trying to figure out who I have become.
Perceived destruction of oneself versus proverbial Phoenix reconditioning.  
Warrior ignite.
This winter's met with welcomed warmth though grazed heartache and sadness.

Erase your name from my fingertips, never again quench these thirsty lips.
Fright said right an ending was left.
Head against pillowcase she wept of mourning.

When I was nine years old, my mother threw me into the shower.
Holding the removable shower facet in my face and proceeded to drown me.
This wasn’t a regular occurrence, fully clothed body and screaming for her to stop.
Choking, crying as this water cascaded into my open mouth while I struggled against the grasp of a plump body.
This scene, shattering protrusion of fear and betrayal.
A woman clawing out of flesh from the inside. “Don’t hurt her, she’s your daughter” one voice said but the urge was too strong.
I knew this woman, as she ripped me sleeping from my bedroom.
The smaller room in a two bedroom duplex adjacent to the bathroom and not very far.
“God wants me to do this”echoed repeatedly.
My brain registers the reality that she doesn’t intend to hurt me but I can’t breathe.
This only lasts a few minutes, she has done the lords work of cleansing the evil from me.
My mother apologizes profusely, but she is still my mother.
She holds me and dries me off.
I cry.
The moment passes.
And everything is normal.

10.24.18

I’ve slept terribly these last two weeks
Maybe it’s too much coffee
Maybe it’s poor mental health
Six am nights reflect terrible days
Terrible, terrible, terrible
All this and time continues to pass
When I really just need it to stay
                         STILL
Fall ricochets glimpses of winter
Deafening silence lasting seven months
Bitter, chilled motions
Fleeting hardships harbouring
NO LOST SOULS
FROZEN
              LEFTOVERS
I just want to go home.

You had been the product of many anticipated things
Countless daydreams flowing prose like poetry I’ve never been able to write about anyone else
Musings if you will, of lusted fantasy
Orbiting you like a moth to a flame I couldn’t quite touch

Another week is done and little has been accomplished
It seems lately I only exist to eat, I’ve barely left the house
Sleepless nights filled with scrambled egg thoughts of a time which doesn’t exist any longer, served up on a plate come breakfast time
My new home although filled with animals, holds no resemblance to what we had built together
The home I finally deserved left desiccated come springtime’s-battle with mental health
The cats although great company do not replace the steady hum of your computer fans
The rhythm of your breathing knowing you were somewhere close in proximity
Weekends brought a time when we felt whole
6 am memories releasing silent fountains of tears do not bring us back together
Hours passing can’t erase the 4 months it’s been since you left me
Or the wintertime when everything had been perfectly comfortable
No, our love left me with a void of blankness impossible to just shake away
Entirely unforgiving feelings, grieving for every kind word you ever said
Id be lying if I didn’t miss you.

I stopped writing love poetry when I met you
It seemed a farce, writing something for years I thought unobtainable yet there you stood
Despite all odds I went against personal judgement and we made small talk for a few hours
You drove, introducing me to Brian Fallon songs I’d grow to attribute to our relationship
My thoughts had become consumed with your image yet nothing I could do would eventually prevent you from leaving
Time had been nothing but a blimp, we lived years through the minuscule moments we occupied the same space together
A lifetime of love crammed into a solid year and a half.
Love is undoubtedly heartbreaking when it leaves you,
Silence envelopes to be mailed out at will
You were my greatest love poem, but my words never did our magic justice.

You are dead to me, yet your memory haunts my mind
Years of drug abuse and alcoholism wrapped up in 140 pounds of pixie cut hair.
I base every negative instance on your inability to stay clean, but oh did I love you.
Self preservation finally won and I took flight away from you and your problems in attempt to live my own life
Ten thousand terrible stories in the time we were sisters, our laughter and tears shattered like glass hit with a hammer
You were fiercely brilliant, wasted youth and potential but you turned into this horrible thing when you were drunk
I’m sorry you couldn’t understand why I needed to leave you but I can still smell your perfume when the wind blows too strongly
Friendship is fleeting, so much is true
But even still, no one else compared to you.

Midnight is moments away yet I'm heavily preoccupied
The smoothness of your cool skin beneath my fingertips
Trailing lines and leaving tiny goosebumps in its wake
You're a whirlwind of the unknown and even now your thoughts are a mystery to me
Attachment separated by a long pattern of half fearing abandonment
My fleeting youth swirling up flashbacks, semicolons and wasted years

They say that love is a fight, and anything worth fighting for never comes easy
I call *******
Love doesn't have to be complicated erupting in geysers of harsh words meant to wound you deep to your core
Arguments and fighting don't mean you love someone
Humans are these fragile creatures equipped with the capacity to aspire and inspire

I can't express myself like I used to

When I was younger I lusted after the quieter days
Dead of winter months ******* in a haze
Unable to see through another's eyes
Studclosed trying to decipher life's truth from its lies.
Foundations were built from less than what I had
Underappreciated minor convictions
Brought forth with deeper afflictions.
Nothing makes sense, of that I am sure
Obiediently await the deafening allure.

I've written so many poems based on the hypothetical of ***** scenarios
Envisioning all I dreamed of without realizing I knew nothing of love.

Uniluminated room,
Unsure of my surroundings,
Faint white light deliberatly creeping forth brining life to atmospheric tranquility as I begin to release the fear of my unknown and feel safe.
Growing conscious of hands slowly beginning to cradle my waist
I don't have to turn around to know it's you.
We stay like this for a moment just breathing until the silence is broken by very distant music.
"You came", you say, pulling me close.
Smirking to myself I reply with "You didn't think I would?", i can tell you sense the implication of a joke within my voice.
Quickly I find myself spinning around to face you as you twirl me ever so delicately.
"Hello Sweetie", I breathe.
Our movements while minimal, were perfectly timed with our slowly beating hearts.
Music creeped through the distance finally reaching and joining us as we swayed.
At first I couldn't recognize the song playing background noise to our little two-step.
Suddenly as a flash of a mempory, it dawned on me, the soundtrack was our life.
Through distance, through impossibility.
Breathtaking music which was perpetually repeating.
For once in my life, undoubtable clarity.
My eyelids fall closed while your fingers sweep delicately across my face.
Single tear rolls away and I too return my hand to rest upon your body.
Lifeforces entertained my soul wrapped within yours.
Stepping towards forever, eternally.

Late spring when the sparrows sang again
Ants make invisible trails across my legs, normally I would mind but they're moving steadily along their way.
Wind blowing my hair in every direction
Showing me grey I haven't really noticed before
My age spots, proof that youth is fading outwards.
Freshly brewed coffee from the Tim Hortons down the street.
A vice if you will
Something that often brings me comfort but can amp my anxiety into overdrive.
I drink the coffee anyways.
Strong aroma of freshly cut grass, the first cut of the season.
Lilac bushes with a hint of the unmistakable scent of fresh air.
Everything has sprung alive, which I am quite thankful for.
Yet I feel somber.
So many thoughts flow through my mind in a day, an abundance of questions and unanswered emotions.
Through age and maturity has taught me that I no longer wish to seek the aproval of strangers for I need not impress anyone but myself.
Yet I had hoped that growth and forgiving others had meant I too along the way would be forgiven for the actions of my former, younger self.
Sitting here opening my heart to the universe,  continuing to be the best I can be and to grow.
Looking inward, and attempt to seek out the approval I didn't have when I was a child.
I am nothing but myself.

Silence.
Emptiness.
Often an unusual thing here, that of silence.
Where as its welcoming, it's also consuming.
Your face, like a neon advertisement on a billboard, flashing messages.
Adornment.
Chastised between the whipping willow tree.
Then and now, through all of time and all of space.
In a very seldom looked upon way, we are all time travelers.
Destined forth between black holes and brilliant supernovas.
Sprinkled dose of fairie dust upon the imagination of a child.
Shame as we grow older we lose sight of that which imagination thrives.
A collective innocence of a generation.
A first kiss, a scraped knee.
How you felt one summer night long ago, while a storm rolled in and your favorite person in the whole universe pulled you close and kissed you as the sky broke.
Unleashing a powerful rainstorm, but you stood there.
Braced against the elements within love.
Maybe the answer to life isn't who your forever love will be, but how many little moments can you remember that are entirely worth remembering?

To be nineteen again;
Blissfully ignorant,
Wrapped up in conversation that eventually lead me to be tightly secured in your arms.
Laid out together underneath the warm August moonlight.
We crept outback wrapped in a blanket and you made love to me as the sun came up on a rickety old lawn chair
I was so afraid of being caught,
But we were together and you kept me safe;
Until one day you were the one my heart needed protecting against.
Years pass, like time through the hourglass.

I forgive you.