Moonlit skies light up my face
as I sit here in this place
surrounded by the music of the creatures of the night
The crickets chirp their peaceful song
the river runs quietly along
as if they are in a dance together with themselves.
The moon seems to hold my dreams
within itself or so it seems,
until I see the stars brighten and light up in the night sky.
Gazing into them I am filled with wonder
hearing a sound like roaring thunder
Yet no clouds block my view in this glorious night.
But yet a voice comes so sweet and tender
and propels me willingly to surrender
to the dreams and hopes that feel my heart and mind.
It’s almost like sunshine springing out through rain
it takes away all of life’s pain
and makes dreaming a dream something real.
To feel your heart come alive within you
to know that there is a big breakthrough
in all that you ever dreamt your life could become.
It’s worth hanging your dreams on the moon,
to feel such warmth, like a well-played tune
strumming on the strings of the deepest part of your spirit.
Like the flowers blooming in the meadow
the dreams began to open and flow
and I begin to my own song that goes along with the night.
A reflection of light from the moon on my face
made me think of dreams and embrace
the love that is within a voice, a song, a night.
His eyes so deep and brown hold a truth within them.
As I gaze into their depth, I get lost like a child,
eager to explore and unaware that I have strayed.
I long to seek out sensations and feelings
that I’ve never felt before and through each discovery I
feel changed. Excited. Renewed.
I feel like I’ve been immersed in a fragrance so rich and
pure. The scent arouses my senses and perks me up.
If I never discover where the smell comes
from exactly, I still know it originates from a man full of
passion for all things dear to him. That alone is very
His eyes have a way of holding me in a way
that arms cannot. They convey a strength that is big enough
to catch me when I’m falling – and yet they make me trip
and get completely tangled in a beautiful mess.
I’m caught up in a world of spinning laughter, of endless wonder
and almost mystifying magic. With one glace they make my belly do
somersaults. They make my heart pound, but make all my
muscles go weak. I could stare into them forever and allow
them to love me.
How can one person make someone feel such feelings?
It’s like standing in a river with a current so strong and warm…
oh to just let go is pure bliss! And now I am floating downstream.
I am surrounded and saturated. The twists and turns and dips
are not scary but exciting. Invigorating.
To taste the smell of love is almost intoxicating; taking me to
far away dreamy places. It’s like dancing in the rain barefoot
with total abandon. All else takes second place when it comes to
this love. This love is something that I will guard with my life. This
love is something I will cherish and hold tightly. Those eyes. They
say it all. They take me in and leave me breathless while at the
same time they spin me.
The pillow holds my head
til the sun peeks in the window ever so slowly
as though daring to view my face
yet not afraid to be the first of the day.
A warm embrace pursues,
seeping sweetly within my skin
fiercely, and yet with a gentle, soft coaxing kindness,
undaunted by my hesitance
Only let them in a little. Just enough that they can see
some good. Just enough that they’ll want to know more.
Enough that they’ll seek you out.
Make them curious.
Talk about the future enough to provide a small amount of security.
Provide empty promises.
But not too much.
Do it until the track marks can be visibly seen and recognized.
Drive in the same tracks and don’t detour.
Even if the rain comes it won’t wash out completely. There’s still
some recognition there because of the past.
Unless of course if you stop.
Then the tracks fade away.
The safety begins to feel uncertain.
There’s no recognition.
Then the emptiness becomes seen as the main path.
A faded past of something that was and yet was never.
a weekend away
the foolish heart unraveled
into a limited time capsule
break the silence
but careful not break too much
or else it will blare loudly
life sleeps for a reason.
Don’t wake me.
His eyes spoke so much that his lips sealed within.
No way they were going to betray his countenance and reveal
what was within.
That would not help anything.
Yet those eyes were speaking.
They revealed a tenderness and warmth.
Silence louder than a freight train.
Or at least try.
And seal it up tight.
In your twisted thoughts, you decided to pull me into you
You left it open enough for me to see the hole in the wall
I could put my foot in and rest it on the carpet. I could
climb in and walk around a little and become part of the surroundings.
But that was all.
You didn’t object to me being beside you
all those nights we tossed and turned making noise in the night
to wake the birds outside your window.
We could sleep.
We could have dreams of touching each other. They stopped
the nightmares from coming. They stopped the thoughts from
fighting all night long and keeping us up.
But morning comes everyday.
And everything that was happening in the night
becomes a distant memory.
Five weeks is a short time really – except for when you’ve lost someone you cared about.
Five weeks is a long time when you need to accept reality, when you wake up in the middle of the night because you dreamt you were talking to the person that you spent the last three and a half years building up a relationship with.
It’s a long time when you realize it will never ever be the same even if you were sitting in front of them.
I want to scream but all my screams turn to sobs. My eyelids swell with the tears that refuse to be shed and yet fill to the point of being near blind.
It’s almost as if my heart thinks this way it can hold onto you longer even though I know you are already gone.
My bones, my muscles, my entire body feels each sob gripping a hold of me and holding on tight like a talon; as though there is a dull butter knife ripping through my flesh.
Everything’s coming out.
And I can’t stop it.
I reach out but only seem to grab hold of a silent imagination of what used to be.