I do not need a cigarette in my hand
A flat stomach
An eyebrow piercing
An infinite knowledge of Socrates.

I do not need
A quick-witted tongue
To be easy to please, short in stature, soft spoken, impatient.

I do not need
A fondness of antiques
The latest car
26 pairs of shoes
Diamond earrings,
To be passive,
To be alluring and enticing and likable, noticeable, noteworthy, appealing or interesting.

I need my heart. If my heart does not allure or compel you to see if I really do have 26 pairs or shoes or if I really am a smoker, if I am passive and soft spoken, if I am tall or short, then I am not compelling enough. My heart should be what catches your attention and what makes you stay.

My heart overrides all else when looking at my worth; my 26 pairs of shoes will not comfort you, but my heart will. Therefore, look at someones heart. That is where you will truly find someone rather in who they are than what they are.

the waves break like the days that chase them
and our hardened layers fall down around our ankles
and sacrafice themselves to the edges of the shorline

it's the sunshine season

we don our freckled, olive, summer skin
as we slip into our cut-off shorts and boat shoes

the winter blues melt into their tributaries and take off for the sea
leaving us to blush and bloom like budding tulips

work stained hands toss the rule books aside
making room for a cheap can of beer and an ancient dog earred map

let the dusty two-tracks point you back
to your abandoned spirit of adventure
and your neglected hiking boots

let's go

let's run off towards the sunset
and the lake bed
and get to the heart of what matters in the middle of nowhere
let's get lost sunburned
drunk
and young
it's time to be better again
to be happy as children again

i'll meet you out there
somewhere along the edges of where the water fades to mountains
and the mountains pierce the skies
i hope to see you there...
with a smile on your face and your heart on your sleeve
i promise to bookmark a place for you

let's go find what they are all missing
nurse our hearts
and our spirits
and that primitive instinct burried somewhere deep inside us
that begs us to chase the sweetness
to play
climb
dance
and grow
let's go

but first
a toast

here's to you
and to me
and to every skinned knee that eventually led us to learn the ropes
here's to the countless hopes and dreams that we've had to reconstruct
in order to shape our own realities
here's to sunburns
moonshine
and all that we can be
beneath these summer skies.

You want to know what I want?

       A proper date.
    Flowers. Not always. Once every few months is fine.
  To be wooed, courted a bit.
Gooooooood ***. Bodies drenched and flushed.
A **** Fine Kiss. (Suddenly gathered in someone's arms in the middle of the street.
   The kind that leaves you breathless, panting, and needing more.)
     A good cuddle on the sofa during THE WALKING DEAD.
       Hours of intellectual conversation as foreplay.

You want to know what I get?*

Hanging out with friends.
    Pictures of flowers sent to my Facebook inbox.
      Someone letting me know they're quite keen on me, but only until I show an interest back.
        Half-hearted whatever-the-hell that's supposed to be.
           Lazy kisses where the mind wanders.
        Forcing my dog to cuddle during walker attacks.
     Having to explain what "Beware the Ides of March" means. Among too many other things.
   Mind games.
And secret messages so their wives don't see.

I get creepsters
and/or
married men
and/or
people from out of town/state/country who fancy me.

That last one's not bad, mind you. Just not very possible.*

So if you're keen...
ask yourself...

...which one of those categories do you fall under?

sometimes
i get so frustrated with my dad
i yell at him
accuse him
blame him
i refuse to eat
whatever he's spent
so much time
and effort cooking for me...
and all of the above
is the result of
hating that he has to do it
in the first place
and it's absolutely idiotic
and horrible of me
to do this to him
but i can't translate
the pain
in a healthy way
i can't articulate
that some minuscule
dead
part of me
misses mom
even
after everything
every time
she tries to talk to me
it's like she pushes
this reset button
and i am back
with my old friends
panic attack,
despair,
hatred
and the tears slip out of me
so easily
i no longer feel them
they have become
so natural
like the freckles
on my face
my life is freckled
with tears

Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year’s pleasant king;
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing—
  Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay—
  Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet—
  Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
    Spring, the sweet Spring!

You shimmer softly like the kiss anticipated upon my naked soul
and when I am with you I feel like I am whole
Your touch releases me ~ springs me from material bonds that bind me
I give over my heart to you, as within your sweet embrace I feel free
I am cleansed with you and have forgotten all my fears
and when I close my eyes ~ you shower away my tears
Your graceful curves cascade all across the open range
As your fluidity reminds me of the very current of change
One body against another writhing in waves of pleasure
and my love for you is beyond any amount of measure
Salt stained lips whisper softly as you wave me goodbye
Tell me, can you please guess ~ WHAT AM I ?