Who should I blame!
What should I blame!
I am the Ground of those Feelings!
I am Holding that Heart!
I am Carrying that Soul!
                         So....
Should I Blame Myself!
Should I Blame God for the purity in my Essence!
I can't Renounce my Pleasure of feeling my Pain!
I can't Ignore those Wounds!
They are Me!
I can't be Dead Anymore!

With eyes squeezed closed tight
I wrung both my hands
And thought I had found myself
Cast adrift alone in far off lands

I slowly opened one eye a slot
And quickly realised I’d rather have not
I had wandered deep into a forest glade
Following the sound a warbler had made

And when I looked down I was amazed
To see bluebells dancing between grassy blades
Each bell seemed to call a certain sound
Ringing sweetly to me from all around

A bright gleaming light shot through the trees
And all about me the birds and bees
I began to feel a joy not known before
And allowed it to seep through every pore

I looked far beyond the bluebell haze
And thought I’d slipped into ecstatic daze
For there in front of holly trees
Stood a creature not know for centuries

It’s beauty and strength were felt at length
With eyes so bright I stepped back in fright
It’s mane was glorious it’s nature raw
And between it’s ears it’s magnificence I saw

For purity and grace come not often to face
With some thing so wild only a maiden can chase
I reached out my hand to offer it peace
And was surprised when it walked to me with such ease

It knelt down beside me and lay in the grass
I lingered a moment and time seemed to pass
We were lost in our day dream for ever some say
Just me and my legendary horse for the day

i want you in your purest form.

i want you on the couch in the window on a Sunday afternoon after lunch.
i want you humming along to Norah Jones, stacking pipes and radiating good energy.
i want you playing with my hair, and watching the flutter of my eyelashes.

i want you to kiss me so hard your jaw hardens up and your breathing gets loud.
i want your hands clumsily pulling at my shirt and your heartbeat in your throat.
i want you close enough to hear what you're thinking.

take your time.
take mine.

i want you. nothing else.

You never asked me if I've ever had ***—
to my relief.
The air would’ve died long before I came up with:
"No, I haven’t”

but it's not like I haven't thought of your fingers
running down my thighs —first like eyelashes
then with force only second to that of my front teeth on my lower lip or
your palms heavy on my arched back as you
cleanse the isle of my ******* with your tongue.
I’d sit on your lap in rebellion thinking
no one should feel as vulnerable as this
but then your touch’ll come like a note in an ear worm —expected
and ridden with guilt— and the next thing

I know I am beyond redemption.

No, I haven't had ***
but purity is more than just unchartered burrows
or skin behind layers—
more than the image of a dove against
a backdrop of perfect ivory.

It is the sound of your laughter
when I told you about a teacup tiger
plaguing my dreams.
It’s the twitching of your brow even after months of looking
eye to eye—
the crack in your apology
for accidentally touching my skin.
Purity is your voice when
you tell me it is enough for me to stay—
to just stay.

I see beauty in her face
Eyes glistening
Full of grace
Shyness apparent
In time and space
This life or a variant
There's no time to waste
Everything is in flux
Rocking my core
I want a taste
Of what
I'm not sure
My hearts are beating
Pulsing
Pure
In your eyes
I watch as a star is born
The magnitude
Of your gaze
So much larger
Than my box
We close the door
Wave good bye to the past
But this is no end
My friend
Let the adventure begin.

She lays in the burning lake
Of trepidation
Luxuriating in its purity
Inhaling the smoke
Of ageless memories
As her flesh begins to sink
Down into the liquid
Losing its consistency
To the easy fluidity
Of endless regret
Hoping for the end
To taste as fiery
As the first glimpse
Of registered consciousness

I look at you and see the most beautiful being I have ever known.
In you, I see the manifestation of grace
And it's very presence blankets my heart
With the warmth of all the love I've ever known
And I bask in a pool of love until I drown in its purity.
It is at that moment that your name turns to music
And it's melody wells up my mind until I can hold it no longer
And streams of love baptize my soul
And I know that I am saved.

A glass cup sits on a table,
Five inches tall and smooth walls,
Plain, ordinary, transparent,
Water filled to the rim,
Glistening, clean, and pure.

A thirsty man sees the cup,
Gets excited and reaches out,
Be gentle, he says to himself,
But the water still spills,
It was filled to the the rim, you see.

A few drops fell onto the table,
But it's only a few,
Only a few drops slipped,
Only a few drops gone,
Only a few drops missed.

The man takes a gulp,
Quenching his thirst,
The water is no longer pure,
He takes another gulp,
The cup is no longer clean,
Another and another,
Until a sliver is left.

The man refills the cup,
With something he likes,
Slightly below the rim this time,
The liquid is no longer clear,
But the glass still transparent.

The man takes another gulp,
Another and a few sips,
Until there is two inches left,
He abandons the cup,
         Unfinished.

A glass cup sits on a table,
Filled less than halfway,
Opaque and unclean,
It stands on the table,
Among clean water,
         Spilled from before.