You share my blood, yet for so long
We never quite saw eye to eye.
You still grasped my hand and held it.
You never let go.
A twin, I suppose, is what you are.
A mirror image of me, a dream-self.
In a richer life. One full of lustrous adventures.
Marching down a cobblestone street;
Sipping sweet secrets in a foreign land;
Fighting the enemy, calling out in triumph.
Perhaps you are a lesson, maybe a vision.
One that beckons me to go further.
Calls to keep growing. Becoming.
For four fervent years
We have shared our hearts, every fiber of our soul
Has bled into each others veins.
And when the day comes, please know.

Fit into the dress, so they won't like you less, keep your size near zero, that is how it goes. Each day is a chore not knowing if you can do it anymore. Eat, then purge to keep yourself beautiful. Repeat, then feel miserable about yourself. You enjoy the attention, but in private you cannot stand the pain. Wanting to be beautiful shouldn't come at such a high price. So once again you go through the motions, eat, purge then repeat to keep the image of what you think others want to see in you.

At first the wide eye newness of a stranger is exciting,
common attraction, flattering
the first kiss-  a moment that should not be missed
Intimacy filled with emotion
catch 22
Sometimes it's a let down a bad kiss a wrong move
the uncomfortable feeling a dread fills your head
Did I make a mistake? Even  with the best chemistry
there is nothing that can help that awkward moment

Now ***
It just happens in the heat of passion two bodies
intertwining after it is done leaving wet between the legs  a disillusioned one

Separated two
what then? lay quietly, how long do you hold him?
or move away, let go, who's to say ,who's to know
head screaming a million questions, what do you say?
fumbling for clothes, dress quickly, find the bathroom
ready to leave, wondering all the while , But never asking

Did I do it right? what just happened? is it worse if
you faked it ? then he thinks you loved it,great! now,
he wants to do it again.  please what did I miss all these years?
it's scary, I have some fears
Not like the 80s the ****** freedom, I am older now

I have  standards, a man asks me out on a date ,I settle for coffee and a walk in the park after 20 minutes no spark but hey it's a start. I will need one heck of a man to get me hot ready for action again and again and again until then I have ******

I've wondered time and time again what the world must look like to an artist. Especially nature.
I get lost in the clouds when I stare too long..
sometimes, most times I hate myself for not having the words to explain what's in my head.
If I tried to describe how the sun feels on my skin or,
flying above the clouds looking down,
I just don't have the words..

A blanket covering the earth I would say or  a warmth I wish to touch. I don't have words I say..

I wish I did know though so I could share my exact feelings  with whoever  is accepting.
Some day I wish to use my words as a paint brush, maybe then I would be considered an artist too.

River bamboo arrayed in lace tiers
consoles the birdbath on its loss of robins
Intemperate August staggers in liquored air
of wavery heat and layered sighs

Leaves relinquish their rush
toward this “ripe on time”
Blackberry brambles have ceased to reach
now bow to ponder their plunder
while petunias, those bold delinquents!
bloom as if the frost’s lethal cling
were some myth
the antique roses had made up

Bud, bloom, revive!
See the generation of the bee!
Bud, bloom, survive—
to do it all again
for the single sake...
of treasuring beginning in the end...

Her bicycle, my geranium
have found eternity together
on the sun spattered patio

She—
opens the screen door
as I—
climb the morning stairs
She—
squints smiles amongst sleepy freckles
who has not brushed her hair
in a late August moment of not caring

And I know it will all happen anyway
no matter what I do....