Confessions 1

Bless me, Father

For I have sinned

I have loved and lost and lusted

I have used and conned and manipulated

Hearts have been crushed in my grasp

Spirits suspended in mid air

Unable to move on, unsure

I didn’t want them; I didn’t want to let them go.

In all these years so many of them

I have let inside my dreams, let them influence me,

Change who I am fundamentally,

No they didn’t have me physically but which is worse?

Psychically I was theirs.

His. His. His. His. His.

I enjoyed most of it, I liked

The attention, raw attraction, the bond

Tolerated abuse, just to be the muse.

All that time I never knew, no one told me

I was giving away pieces of myself

Each heart exploding left a scar on mine

Fragments of me, slices of them, intertwined

I’m not whole, not myself, not pristine

Dirty, damaged, fractured again and again and then – sewn together

A mosaic of hearts that beat in rhythm

Souls that spoke the same language as mine

The things they taught me and the things only we know

That’s what I am made of, and I confess it, but

What can I do, how can I come clean

What kind of penance can I serve to atone, when

I’m not sorry?

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1:15

An abandoned field

Wildflowers, weeds, and you

In blue.

A beautiful old bridge

Sunshine, cool breeze, and me

We’ll see.

A forgotten dirt road

Out of sight, warm daylight,

You might.

And we walked

And we laughed

And we talked

Carefully

Anxiously

Every breath a question

Unanswered, understood.

***

An abandoned field

Wildflowers, weeds, and you

In blue.

 

 

resentment

i don’t know

what to do || how to move || when to breathe

and i’m angry

that you don’t see

the truth of me

 

anymore

 

 

 

 

 

 

hidden.

romantic

tantric

sycophantic

affliction

restriction

constriction

mystic

artistic

voyeristic

appeal

reveal

surreal

fantasize

mesmerize

paralyze

our secret place

your embrace

touch my face

just in case

it’s a dream

 

Life Story, Take Two

Nomadic

Sporadic

Romantic.

Wanderer.

Type    Writer

Lover

and

Fighter.

Fanciful

Magical

Impractical.

Barefoot     Soul

Passionate

and

Cold.

Curious

 Furious

Mysterious.

Historian.

Book    Reader

Skeptic

and

Believer.

Life Story Version 1

There once was a girl from Nowhere.

Mist in her eyes,

Stardust in her hair.

The earth knew her secrets,

The sky buoyed her dreams,

And she was hopelessly-

Desperately-

Caught in between.

 

Encounter 

Dark

Light

Pain

Delight

A stolen glance.

“Take a chance.”

I can’t – 

Circumstance. 

Untitled

He was the fly in my ointment,

The wrench in my works,

The sour cream on my potato,

Deliciously sour.

New guy in an old town.

Oh.

No.

I remember his old pickup,

Cowboy hat, tattoos.

Decisions. How could he choose?

Rock or blues?

Pain with a side of bliss.

What is.

This.

There are no photographs of us,

Memories to rot and rust.

Just regret – shadows of that day

I heard predator to his prey

Say

“Stay”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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