They aren't just standing there
Breathing in and out your air
They are standing at the very spot
Seeing with the same clear eyes
And feeling that which you once did
The breath, the silence, the reply
Part want, part passionate distaste for it. Sharing as such.
I will keep trying
I don't know why i am
I forgive myself
Tears because of uncontrolled fears
One of these days
I'll fall in love for sure
All these cinematic
Shots of me sitting alone
With a cat on my lap
Will have something
To culminate to
I'll be the star
Of a lesbian romance
That will wow the crowds
Shock **** through the ages
And land me where
I truly belong
Hello? Yes, it's me again. I was just wondering if you ever decided to get around to sending me a perfect lesbian lover. The last one didn't work out... yeah, I know. No? You want me to die alone? Fantastic. Alright, I'll let you go now. Just... yes, I'm gonna go cry, is that a problem? Okay, good. Buh-bye!
say you love me
when you cant even
take a glimpse of me
Psh cramming is life rn
To the side
With mindful eyes, lax
Like the smile which always wide
Sitting beneath the old mailbox by the railroad tracks
Trying so hard not to forget
The words inscribed
Which you promised me
In the letter that never came
And why is that? Because I waited too long. LOL. Mr. Newman with the song. FTW.
Its because of who you are
Nor because the choice heart
Its not because of what you have done
Nor the actions you've chosen
Its because of who you are to me
And it makes my memory decease
Its because of the emotions I contain
That creates this heart to go insane
I would be close if health allowed
But for now... I must stand down...
I have a medical condition called syncope.
This is when my heart creates irregular heart beat patterns due to lack of oxygen, low blood sugar, and fast heart beating
When this happens... blood drains from the brain, causing a black out moment, and fainting spell, or a confusion memory moment for a few seconds up to a mintue.
Stress, Anxiety, Dehydration, Tiredness, and physical and emotional exhaustion can cause this...
If there is something (or someone) that cause my heart to do irregular patterns... i have been told to stay away until im properly medicated... or it can get worse
So forgive me for staying away... But my heart races out of fear and happiness and i dont want to have a black out or memory moment sorry...
Im tired of looking and feeling so pathetic...
It's makes no difference to my thinking Helen although physically no longer with me but In true spirit she surely
She Inspired me to take up writing something I'd never done before but In order to write tributes to her I had to learn
Since that first time I wrote of Helen thinking that would be my one and only I Never stopped writing sure I
But to me It the words that count that tells the poems story that I believe so much talent Is
because they're judged on the mistakes and not the words that are Important far more than spelling or
For Emma Ottinger “I put out (my stories) just because”
that’s the best excuse you got girl?
is a **** good one
way back in March
wrote a declaration^ to all those just
beginning with an iota of courage and
a good story telling
way of seeing and the
to spin my imagination in
my eye sockets
with their well words,
for I am a drinker of
the beaujolais firsts of the new grapes
of young poets
words welling springing from between
the oohs and ahs and the damns -
I wish I had wrote that...
so here’s a hero push - so many kinds of bread to
fill our baskets, please girl may I have some more?
so here’s to you - and the Great Plains that birthed you,
and the breadbasket of four poem/stories you poured out
that were so far from plain, how could you know of seas and sea foam and cobalt and mahogany human body parts?
and the speech patterns of waves that took me decades to learn?
use those “Jacob’s ladders between your fingers,”
“whistle me like a stray dog following,”
for that’s what “the kingpin of my flighty wits”
requires, for this old scribbler is now:
“firmly rooted for a girl who's bold enough
to crack the whip over her head if
ever went to war with myself.
A confidant that won't run,
won't offer half truth when
the whole of it
is all that actually matters.”
so write with that window light on and
wheat fields that can be reenvisioned as the gray-blue sea
from which I crawled out of croaking...
to read you rightly