The fragrance of you
In my mind inescapable.
The wind carries you to me,
Lavenders in the breeze.
In an instant transported
Back against your chest
Arms wrapped around
The last time I truly felt
Contentment in who I am.
Left alone, no more lavender,
The dark doubts creep in
Whispering their words once more
You should not be.
But I am.
And I will continue to be
Because one day, once again,
The wind will bring you
Back to me.

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Midnight Creature

 

Midnight creature, lost and alone

All it wants is to find its way home

Never realizing away it has been thrown

 

When I was a child, I never thought I’d reach twenty-five,
I’d just never felt all that alive.
When I reached the age I’d never thought so,
I will admit for a while – it was touch and go.

Now that age I’ve moved beyond,
To life I’ve grown attached, grown fond.
But sometimes in the deep dark of night,
It can be hard to see the light.

The child once more takes hold,
And I feel like I’ll never know what it’s like to be old.
To be sure, I must admit I don’t want to die,
But, my old self, I’ve never seen in my mind’s eye.

My constant companion,
Never far from sight,
Always there for just in case,
How rarely you see the light.

An Idea of what could be, a future
For the two of us, you and me.
Grand plans created so alive in my mind.
In reality, likely never to be.

Untold stories trapped,
So many of them locked inside so deep.
Fear of Failure – lies told – doubt of oneself in truth.
Your unblemished pages, yours to keep.

Together, you and me

I can still remember
The first day
I ever saw you
Standing there so
Self-assured
I filled with such doubt
Of who I was
And could yet be
But you always knew
Always could see
That part of me
I could never set free
Until the first day
I ever saw you
Standing there so
Self-assured
I was filled with such awe
Of who you were
And what we could yet be.
Together, you and me.

And Fade Away

A day’s happiness gone
In an instant. The exact moment
I see your face, only can you such a thing do.
Your negativity reaching out,
Searching for a new victim to invade,
To spread out and propagate,
A never ending cycle, I am caught
Unable to evade tendrils crushing
The life out of me struggling
To breathe suffocating everyone
It manages to hold in its sway.
I get so tired searching for
A moment of peace. It’s so easy
To forget the bright start to the day.
Oh well it was so long ago it can’t
Have been the day. Perhaps I’ll
Just lay down my head, suddenly so weary.
Never to escape, close my eyes…

Rise and Shine

It’s like a sickness.
A raised temperature,
An unfocused delirium,
A feeling of coming death.

Midnight creature, forced,
Awakened at unnatural
Hours of the day
In a battle for survival.

A sense of nausea
Unable to be quashed
Temples pounding, unyielding,
The coming of the sun.

The early bird,
Gets the worm,
Yet the moonlit tiger
Catches the larger prey.

A Question of Self

Three women sitting down together
Each discussing their lives
All are separate yet
All are the same.

A three-sided mirror sits
Each face waiting to reflect
An image.
The first face – always uncovered
Catches the sun’s rays
To send out to the world.
The second – sometimes uncovered
In only the deepest silences
Always alone despite the crowd.
The third – never uncovered.
Its face, unknown even to its owner
Who sometimes always with
The greatest of trepidation
Gathers a moment of courage
To grab the corner of the cover
Intending to pull it back and reveal
What lies beneath.
Only to stop at just the last moment,
Each and Every time.

Three women, three lives.
Three mirrors, three images.
Two lies and one truth, or
Three truths and no lies?

bare limbs against the wind
standing tall and firm like your gonna win.
dark and looming, the sky overhead
Fighting off the feelin’ you’re better off dead.
As rain begins to fall like tears to wet your skin
what you thought once gone, that old familiar pain appears again.
Finally the sky clears – bright and shiny,
But you’re still left feelin’ tiny,
cause buzzing around like a tease is a buzzy lil’ bee,
while you – trapped by your Roots – are busy longing to be free.

There’s something comforting in the smell
of old books.
A cacophony of life surrounding,
and Yet
In one small breath, an upturned
book on one’s lap,
an instant transportation to a
New and wondrous land.
Alone or with companions, always
a grand adventure to be had.
In Celebrations, great and small,
equal joys to be found
in all the infinite tragedies.
There’s no story that could be told
unworthy of such a worship
found in the simple pleasure
of a quiet day.

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