artwork: Balazs Solti via https://pixelsmerch.com/
finally! my quest for love is over.
oh, i am so done slaving
for affection and approval.
my eyes, always looking up
in search of validation,
can rest, at last.
what a fucking relief.
what am i left with?
no worries, i’ve got
the constant.
the built in set of
racing (weary) mind and
hanging (hollow) soul.
scared baby with the head shaved
occasionally
she gets to step up the stage
begging for love
and acceptance
so i accept her
lovingly
i hold her in my mind
like i hold my little Oz
letting the words echo:
i am here
you are safe
artwork: gustav klimt, “mother and child”
my love language's a touch was forsaken for quite long isn't it like riding a bicycle too? muscle memory jumps right in my body remembers the warmth the breath the shiver the surrender
artwork: embrace by Gizem Özer via http://www.saatchiart.com
*artwork via mayhemandmuse.com
growing pains
chew me up
this time i’ll stare right back
today i’m ready to
embrace the sadness
it is mine.
it’s not me.
*artwork- via pintrest.com
I’ve gone astray
Amongst the fir trees of my years
Under cold snows
Relived
During sweaty summer evenings.
I’ve failed to tie a string
Or leave a bread crumbs trail
So I can find my way back
(36 years ago)
When I slipped into this world
And maybe then was happy.
Invariably, i am
( a sad little girl- an angsty adolescent-an all accepting woman)
Just looking for a place,
One guarded and secure,
To keep my hopes.
*artwork-by gary kaleda
| pure fantasy. sunny winter days. my favorite. ha! the door opens and he brings the air in for me to breath. every time, virgin-like thrill lusty love, lovely lust. senses wide shut, carefully covered with precise amount of artificial sweetener. yeah.. well, the real is here ( or is he?) morning coffee with silence OST families, groceries. sink full of junk. pretenders? or is it all that it takes? i am unjust. the goodness is all over. |
*artwork-“intimacy” by svetlana ziuzina via artmajeur.com
| maybe because he does not speak i am mute again. comfortably embraced by silence. listening to the music of heartbeats instead of uneven rumble of words. we hold hands in our sleep and i let him kiss my face in the morning and make a dinner. for me. simple things used to be so complicated. but now i rest. and i let him touch, where no one did before. |
*artwork- via darkascharcoal.tumblr.com/
god’s lion, he is
or god’s lamb?
androgyny
my hebrew jesus crist
so close to perfect, but
merely gentle
it was like dancing
because i wasn’t
i could not feel my limbs,
i was too old, and all the same the youngest
suburbs of holiness
illusive peace of. mind?
unending touch. no words to hide in
so easy to pretend
to be
blindfolded animal.
another step on
well known ground
so firm so nonexistent.
*artwork- frustration by mehran roozbahni
| she says i’ve got to try to like this little girl and i wonder, what is the way? i wish i could friend her on facebook she says i’ve got to stop pushing her away, she says i should be empathetic… coward. i hide among all these names that barely have faces |
*artwork- “red couple dance” by naxart studio via fineartamerica.com
| still. walled in comforting fears my fruitful quest for rejection won’t stop. i’d not give up on you so sweet, slap after slap every word tastes like leather belt on my skin leaving red marks that i collect and keep carefully cataloged and maintain them thoroughly. we move, altering egos of cowardice. my faceless men your nameless women, an endless fuel for our dance of hurt and solace. |
on my way up 