Many times I've loved,
And many times I've
Written about love.

Many times I've left,
And many times I've
Written about leaving.

I've loved with my
Heart in hand,
Blood pooling,
Words flying
Out of my mouth,
Crashing upon their skin
In an act of valor.

The same thing
I could say about leaving
Words sharp,
Striking like the edge of a storm,
Breaking upon the silence.

But it was just love,
And I wasn’t brave.
And it was just leaving,
And it wasn’t brave.

We know we’re lost in a phase
and our lives are too tragic,
but now our minds can’t erase
what made life feel like magic

We know we’re dead in our ways
and our lives are traumatic,
but now our hearts can’t replace
what made life feel nostalgic

©

FROZEN LAUGHTER

we dashed outside
as the sky was
falling

“Crunch...crunch...crunch! ”
chanted the snow
as our footprints chatted to it

in a bold red
booted voice
and slowly a bird

wrote itself across the sky
with such careful
calligraphy

& our laughter
froze
right in front of our noses

I prayed and called out
those who had left long ago,
some returned,
God, within me stays
and hears me.

What is it that holds you back?
Mistrust?
Probably.
Not sure if your doubt
Is placed in you or me
Truth be told
I’m not ready
So maybe the thing
Holding you back
Might be me

Let's wax poetic - wax on..

We’re in for it
When we enter
the insubstantial country of love

That secret theater, in an invisible mansion of moods

it’s a resort that houses its share of speechless monologues and sore disappointments, all lovers know that, but there are infinite discoveries too—secret, intimate delights and sensual confidences.

Ok, wax off.

My horoscope this morning said, “any tension you’re experiencing now is just part of the process.”

Peter (my bf), flew in last night. When we’re separated too long, remembering him, remembering us, can at times, seem like a memory exercise and I find myself wondering if I’m wasting my bikini years on a handshake deal. Then we’re reunited and bam, I’m reminded why it’s a ‘dub-u, dub’ again.

He’s a delectation—in a Christmas bauble kind of way—shiny and dangerous because I want to touch him—but not be loud or showy about it. Leeza (Lisa’s 14-year-old sister) whispered to me, when I was getting some ice, “You watch him with the too-still poise of a cat about to strike.” I smiled at the complement because I love cats.

Every once in a while I’ll pinch him, to make sure he’s real. “Oww! Stop that!
“What?!” I ask, pulling back as if innocently confused.

I got him a room at the Marriott Essex House. It’s 400 feet down W59th from Lisa’s building entrance to the front door of his hotel. I measured it off, with urgent steps—then I helped him unpack. We unpacked a lot.

Later, we joined Dave and Lisa for a Christmas light tour—Manhattan’s flexing its wow-factor for us.

I didn’t get to sit on Santas lap this year, I’m a little old for that,
but I did get what I wanted most—I’m sure I’m grinning like an idiot.
It’s not quite Christmas yet, but thanks, Santa.

🎄Merry Christmas🎄🕎Happy Hanukkah 🕎🌟Merry Kwanzaa🌟
💈Happy Festivas!💈
.
.
Songs for this:
Heat Wave by Linda Ronstadt
Same Songs by Kelly Jones
.
.
Two days until Christmas.. how ‘bout some Christmas playlists?
https://daweb.us/xmas/
.
dub-u, dub = a big win