Growing flower vines on the side of this empty house
It's been quite some time since I have seen this door
Since I have laid on this barren floor, it's so strange seeing that carpets face replaced
Feeling the ice of this hardwood floor
How nice it is to miss those memories.
Do you remember when we all laid out, making beds out of blankets because there was no room for us all
And yet we did not fit any other way, finding ways all over one another
Then someone would wake up with ranch on their face
Sleep over rules, my dear. The first to fall gets the joke  after all.
No one has tended to the flowers in a while but whos to say there has been anyone to take that place.
Remember when this used to be so colorful and over there we would scream our lungs out
Convince me that I could learn how to sing and now you wouldn't even hear my voice.
Yet this garden is so pretty.
Raining days would fill the fountains water edge and arise would come the cute babies of those flying bugs.
We confused them for tadpoles more days that not. How relaxing of a time those days were
Worrisome worries having no existence in that time of mind, at least in those moments.
I skipped quite a bit, like how with some silky pants you could go zooming down the stairs being lucky enough not to fall too hard.
The stairs were carpeted but those floors were not.
What memories safe place, where one thought she died and cried and screamed
And now it is nothing but a childish memory.
This house smells old, but still like home.
It's about time that I find home isn't it? With it's own pretty garden and this time my neighbors can hear something beautiful as we would sit outside and serenade the sky.
The flowers would bloom with such variety, colors everywhere!
My children would make explosions coming up and down the stairs, forgetting that walking exist
Sliding down staircases just like we did.
Create happier memories for the future that the past didn't have.
Perhaps this is learning to let go, forget all that no longer serves this body
No longer serves this mind, it's just taking up space. I would rather just cry, let the sea of dams release and find myself beneath the rivers sea.
Happiness sprouts from seeds and I am but a thousand flowers trying to grow at the same time
But all these different parts need different things, different soil, water and sunlight
Breathe
Maybe that is why I feel such butterflies around you and that smiles of yours
Oh, how they go crazy, making a mess of my insides
How did pollen get in my nose ? I'm allergic
Mirror appreciation shows change, from the days where those bags are so heavy
To where it seems like the glow has followed it's morning flow.
There is something to this growth.
Remember painting on the coffee table, so much art lost over the years of an overly educated child
Playing dumb to the world for strategy.
We do not "perfect" so it is right but to express accurately, to be frank this is the last place I want advice.

You appeared in my intuition before you appeared before my eyes.
I could sense that we were wandering close enough to cross paths for a short amount of time.

But-

What I could not sense was how your presence would bring my heart to full capacity and for a few mere moments I would be drowning in my love for you instead of simply treading.

I could not see that the moment you walked out of the door, and looked at me one to many times, that the vacancy sign in my mind would flip on while my heart continued to deny anyone from checking in.

My intuition tried to prepare me but I suppose no one can ever be ready to see the one person that left them alone walk away once more.

Your life still rustles
in me, in my mind

you think along with my questions
I hear remarks you once made

.....Your life still rustles
.....in me, in my feelings

.....you move along with my blood
.....I feel you flow through my heart

Your life  still rustles
at home, as if you were present

the warmth of your body
somewhere tangibly close

.....Sometimes your voice is there again
.....in the movies that make me feel

.....what it was like, but much further away
.....than when we watched them together

Your life still rustles
in the scents of the woods

taking me by surprise in the seasons
familiar in unexpected places

Sitting on the bench
under this weeping willow,
I talk to you.
As I throw my voice across
the breeze catches my words,
and brings them back to me.

I make
watercolor images of you
on my paper.
Stroke after stroke,
using shades that I like
to fill the crevices and gaps within me.

Tonight I throw pebbles idly
into the stream.
As fishes gather around them
I talk about us to the moon.

So sometimes when I think of you my throat gets tight.
Sometimes my body twitches on it's own the way it would have if you touched it.
Sometimes I miss you.
But-
I must remember that you only loved me for the way my skin shined in the sun and never for the way my soul shimmered in the moonlight.
Sometimes that reason is why I can think of you and feel nothing at all.
So although sometimes I cry at my memories with you, other times I am glad I left you too.

The pen bleeds
But the heart still hurt
Yearning to learn that story
To console its forgotten memories

A face that haunts
The same voice that makes you cry in your sleep
Puzzles that vanish
When the sun is up and reality is awake

I don't know
I can't remember
I want to know
I want to remember

The heart that longs
The pain that can't be consoled
Making the present bleak
Them looking at you in disdain

Who am I?
Why am I here?
Why am I different?
Why do I feel too much?

I don't know
I cannot remember
I need to know
I need to remember

you picked me up
and spread me apart
over and over
leaving your notes
in the margins
and fingerprints
on my pages.
now no matter
who reads me
all they can see is you,
staining each page
with blue ink
and a hopeful heart.