Curdled cream and three separate drafts of a memory I can't quite pen properly.
Disappointment inbound, pouring the first cup of freshly brewed coffee down the drain.
Had I checked the date this wouldn't have been a waste of $4; but a solemn reminder of analogies leaping from my brain.
Cycle of sleeping all day to lie awake during the nighttime, overthinking. Curtains of feeling bad about inability to wake normally, darkness of the evening encompassed I finally pull myself out of the bed.
Despite this current pattern, last winter undoubtedly worse with feelings of self destruction and loathing.
For currently I do not cry every waking hour, just wish I was different with no apparent response to change.
Cats continue to be stricken with yet another upper respiratory response to declined immune system of an exotic breed.
Lost debit card, jobless flounder.
No appetite or desire to binge eat for the first day of my existence.
Headlight reflections crawl across the ceiling and I'm suddenly five years old again, afraid of almost everything.
Summer evenings when the whipper-well called out haunting symphony of their nighttime songs.
I never quite believed they were birds, moreover monsters and I never heard those calls other than childhood.
My father outside, and I in the grass.
Childhood wonder as he climbed a ladder to retrieve me a piece of the moon.
Wide eyed awe at this miraculous feat, my father could reach the moon.
Unnoticed by young eyes, the moons sphere just out of reach by trillions of lightyears.
A rock plucked off the driveway.
He must've been proud of his farce, my bewilderment and excitement beaming.
I love you.
Twenty five years later, a memory I haven't connected to in decades.
Perhaps the next time I look to the man in the moon, I'll see your face etched softly on the surface.
That radiating glow reminding me things will be alright.
It's been an odd winter, my heart is cooled more than our weather as of late.
Somewhere through the forests of Sandilands Provincial forest a deer crunches across the snow.
Silence, except for its breath, a softness.
Trees encompass, nurture and protect.
You are home.

When you find it
It finds you
Loving you
Being blue
All those days
Before you
Grey and black and blue
Blue
With you
On my mind
On my skin
Inside
And within
My love is real
Your here to stay
Knowing that you won't go away
Well that's a poem for another day
Because this is love
Blue
Floating on fluffy white snowy fights
Tossing a tickle to see that smile
Or thy toes between mine
That heart beating the same
Pulses rise between my thighs and I sigh for another drip
Your hands they grip
Holding my skin and my heart
Hold tight
Never pain
I can see the light
That this masochistic mind is now alright
Dissipating a sorrow soul
Deep and hidden you have found a role
As my partner
As my friend
As the love I knew I would win
Blue
Butterflies
Who knew
It's you

The water shimmering ripples in the moonlight,
The sky reflecting visions we have seen,
The meadows are concealing our secrets,
And the memories behind the screen,
All the traces have still survived,
On the roads we have ever been.

The misty morning brought us closer,
With your scent still clung to me,
The alarm  ring would remind me,
That you were lying next to me,
In the light,the sun would call us to see,
The twinned souls we craved to be.

And everyday, our road would split in two,
Along the distinct patterns and routes we chose,
Miles away we go momentarily,
Yet the petals of the same rose,
Our lives unperturbed by the silence in-between,
And the adios has been our transient dose.

Because i have always believed,
Not much the whispers, nor the feelings enclosed,
But the words in the palinode,
Echoing ,"You are the shadow walking through me,
Traveling with me. Traveling back to me."

naivety
the green kryptonite
of an irrevocably broken bond between
myself and the rest

and the sunset
composed of orange lucid dreams and
purple thoughts exchanged
between
myself and the rest

the flaw in all of this that plagued my preciously innocent mind was the
assumption
that you were the rest,
and that my naivety
was, in fact, a flaw
when truly,
it kept me from
conforming into the monster that I irrevocably am.

She prepared for nothing, as her storms go and come.

Yet
She realized the damage to be irrevocable as she spun.
Filling her skies so dreamy the stars couldn't exist
So she waited and turned
she twirled and yearned
Until the next time they could dance in the rain
For the lingering mist,
blowing winds so patiently turned to breathing in vain

She began to long for the sun to evaporate his memory,
Craved his warmth to clear the fog that never settled
For the sun had greeted her so politely for all of her days.