I'm not sure what to do with this piece of ribbon
from the corsage you gave me
do you know you
sister
you were the only one to ever give me a corsage
and now I have all this shimmering pink ribbon
and a clump of dried sunset roses covered in glitter in the trash can
I thought about lighting it on fire
but I'm not sure if the flames would cleanse my wounds
or burn them
My body can't take anymore burns
You did that well enough yourself didnt you
sister
burned me inside and out with your words and your actions and your lack of words and lack of actions
you always told me you would chase me
if I left
so why wasn't I allowed to chase you
did I stop being important to you?
Is that what happened here?
You don't need me anymore so you cast me aside
like the others
Were you jealous I left and you didn't?
Angry I didn't take you with me?
I hope it's the latter
Because while your anger might hurt
it's your apathy that will **** me.
Please
tell me what I did wrong
why are we broken
and why won't you let me fix it
sister
Sister what am I supposed to do with the pink shining ribbon from the dead orange roses
I guess it's none of your concern anymore
Our friendship is as dead as those two year old roses
should i burn it the way you burned me?
should i throw it in the trash the same way you so carelessly tossed out a decade of friendship?
No
You are the destructive one
sister
Not me
I do not yet know what I will do with this ribbon
but I will use it the same way I use my pain
I will use to it create something beautiful

it is late
but not that late
and the wind blows against the side of the house
and the rusted metal eaves creak with the weight of their age outside my window
and i think that i might like to lay beside you
and listen to the world outside
while the wind howls and time streams by mollasses slow
and you will keep me warm
and i will keep you warm
maybe we will watch childrens movies
and huddle together like children frightened of the wind
and maybe we will fall asleep
and maybe we wont
it has been so long
since i was able to feel familiar with someone
but i think i could feel it again
with you

I want to hold you so closely
so intimately
my scent lingers on you
the way the smell of fresh coffee
haunts the halls of my home all afternoon
I want to kiss you so deeply
you still taste me on your tongue when you sleep at night
the way the taste of my morning coffee
clings to the roof of my mouth till well after mid morning
I want to touch you so often
the ghosts of my fingers fill your dreams
the way the feeling of sand and water
fades slowly from your feet for the rest of the day
I want to affect your very being
so my sould lingers with yours
twirling and twining and twisting together
like the strings of balloons
floating into the stars

My heart is like a locket
It is delicate and ornate
and slightly too big for the gossamer pink ribbon in hangs from

It shines brightly when the light hits it
but just easily is cloaked in shadow

It is delicate and easily breakable
Hinged
But whole

My heart is like a locket
with a picture on only one side
I am there
and I am whole and I am okay
I am not incomplete with a picture beside me
I still shine in light and become lost in darkness
I am still too big for my pink gossamer ribbon.

My picture does not need a companion
but she would like one
someone to share the fight to keep the ribbon taunt
and to smooth her frayed edges
and bent corners.

She has been there awhile
just like the locket
hinged
but not broken.

Slip into the empty space beside her
I think she has forgotten she is beautiful
slip into the empty space beside her
next to the hinge of my glistening locket heart.

sometimes
it seems like things are finally falling into place
only to fall right back out again
but sometimes
things we like fall apart
so even better things
have a chance
and a place
to fall together
and some mornings when you wake up and everything seems dull and brown
remember brown is just all the colors
mixed together
so put on some rose colored glasses
my dear
and filter out the cheerful reds and pinks from the muck of life
and remember that life is like a puzzle
and you cannot force together
two pieces that do not fit
you just have to look until you find the pieces that do
and hope they haven't been swept under the carpet of time

Do you ever lie alone at night
in an empty house with nothing but the sound of your breathing
in and out
in and out
in and out
to keep you company in the still dark night?

Do you ever notices how your breathing
so alone and loud in that silent room
seems like the loneliest sound in the world?

And do you notice
once you relaize how lonely your breath is
that you are lonely too?

That you yearn to feel the touch of another
fingers ghosting down your shoulder
caressing the knots of your spine
the beat of another heart
the rustle of clothes as they shift beside you?

I am used to being alone

I need no one
but it does not mean that from time to time
my breath
my body
my very being
doesn't get lonely from time to time
for the touch of another.

For a simple twining of fingers.

For a twining of bodies
a twining of minds
a twining of hearts
a twining of souls.

(Do you want me
like I want you?
Do you want me
at all?
Is your breath
lonely too?
Be careful how you answer me
for I am clumsy and quick to fall.)

I want to be a part of someone's story
That’s all really

I will settle for a page

A place in the acknowledgements

A chapter would be nice.

I don’t need to be a main character

I can be a silent member of your Grecian chorus

As long as I am included in your story.

I will settle for simply being a part of someone’s story

But what I really want

Is to inspire someone to write their story

Or change what is already written.

I want to deeply affect the narrative of someone’s life

Stories are not monologues

They are dialogues

We can learn from each other.

Love is like allowing someone to co author your life

And that’s all I want really

I want to be a part of somebody’s story

I want to help somebody write their story

And for them to help me write mine in turn.