Milk and Cookies

Darling,

stop

inviting hitchhikers over for milk and cookies,

their smell stays long after they are gone,

stuck on our white couches and matching cardigans.

The carpet gets soggy as the warm rain keeps us awake

underneath the bridge and crystal chandelier.

The walls blow away when the bomb explodes during prayer time.

It scares the puppies each time.

The screaming as the water rises, entering the gaping mouths…

it all gives me nightmares.

I have nothing to say to them,

Darling.

We are out of milk and cookies.

 

 

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Broken T.V.

We drive 3 hours to buy a T.V.

with a broken screen, to watch cooking shows at dawn,

when the bats fly back to their caves and under bridges

that we traverse,

secretly fearing that it will crumble,

the river below

swallowing us whole, taking our bodies,

still strapped with our life-protecting seatbelts,

out to the ocean

for the sharks and octopi,

to play…

but we don’t think about this as we stop

for breakfast sandwiches and black coffee

on our way to buy a T.V.

with a broken screen

to watch cooking shows,

at dawn,

even though we don’t have electricity

in our apartment

and

I don’t even know how to toast bread

without burning it to a crisp,

yet we drive and drive and drive

listening to disco music

and thinking about the journey back.

Free Spirit

Wet kisses down the curved spine of her back,

shivers, shudders,

curled white fingers, nails biting into her skin,

it’s too late.

In the morning, she feels it,

the pull of the shrouded mountains to the east.

Front door left open, leaves blowing in,

floating into dusty teacups.

The grandfather clock tells time to the yellowing wallpaper,

ignorant of

seconds,

minutes,

hours.

The chill is piercing, her feet are bare.

She climbs a tree.

Up, up, up,

above the canopy of clouds,

audience to the retreating sun and the chasing moon.

 

Her hairs whips her stinging face.

Old and white, her husband searches are fruitless,

his calls echo against the pines, against the deaf mountain.

A bird, black as the ocean depths,

circles, round and round, above the house

abandoned by the woman that long ago

morning.

A quick flash of a wing outside the window,

a glimpse is all the husband sees,

then the shine,

beckoning him, come.

On the sill, a perfectly round gold band,

her wedding ring,

ruins of a broken marriage.

 

X

If you could read my mind, love

Like x-ray vision, an image of my innermost self exposed

What a burden that would be.

If you could read my mind, love

You would see the anxiety that festers and thrives

The drive for perfection pushing against desires for spontaneity:

Freedom.

If you could read my mind, love

The fear of failure would be so clear

Like a clean break of a bone seen on a black and white photograph.

If you could read my mind, love

The mask I wear on a nearly daily basis would no longer fool you

The edges of lies starting to tear and rip away.

If you could read my mind, love

Would you still love me after, just like an old-time movie?

A perfect ending.

But you can’t read my mind, love

No matter how hard you might wish it

My mind is my own: secret, dark and true.

Mosquito Love

Your love is like mosquito bites

All over my body

Insatiable and demanding of my attention

Until finally

I give in

The redness spreads

Until is devours me.

Your love is like mosquito bites

On my forehead

Making me look like I did in my teenage years

It makes me feel giddy

Like a summer crush

And like summer crushes, mosquito bites eventually disappear

As love sometimes does.

Meaning of Words

Drawing is a way of escaping, just like writing. Today, I was fortunate enough to have a few moments in between all my obligations to just take some me time. Here is what came out of it…

Solitary letters to form the words…

…words that express what I have to say…

…and what really matters…

…what I say matters,

because I matter.

Take some time to do what you enjoy to do and remember that you matter, no matter what others lead you to believe. Be there for yourself.

Glimpse

I was looking through files on my laptop and I found this poem that I wrote years ago, I completely forgot about it! It’s come out to see the light of day!

 – Glimpse –

Eternally fleeting creature

Lurking

In the shadows

Weaving between reality and fantasy

In the blink of an eye

You’ve disappeared

A trick of the darkness

Leaving only

Your exquisite scent

Behind

And your image

Imprinted in my mind

*photo credit: http://danster82.com