Everyone loves to see my smile
so big, beautiful, infectious
magnetic and genuine
but the world can only see
all that I pretend to be.
It seems we all get caught up
in appearances, distanced from reality.
The real me is always an arms-length away.
And I like it that way.
I keep it that way.
Keeping you farther and farther
from my pain before I implode
with no more warning than my trembling lips and fingertips signing for help while they push you away,
crying for comfort but begging for space.
I fret you won’t understand
this brokenness as I lie in a broken mess
of tears and bleeding wrists inflicted from a sharp tongue,
and sharper voices in my mind cutting deeper into the wells of insecurity.
My own hands dig deeper into flesh searching my veins for happiness.
via Daily Prompt: Fret
Because the dopamine high I get while your soul dives into mine can only be matched by the way my heart flutters when you smile.
The way you smile and chinky eyes lit up my soul
something I still don’t understand,
but the way you held me
cared for me
like a princess fit for royalty.
That is where the love lies.
In the way you looked into my eyes and it felt like our heartbeats synchronized.
The beauty in its simplicity.
You saw me as all I ever wanted to be.
Now, I see myself twice as much for the both of us.
Make love to myself sweeter than you ever did
Caress my body more softly, more sweetly,
Sweet love, the erasure of insecurity.
It runs so deep, it radiates through my fingertips.
Safe, sacred, living energy.
Last week I started doing sun salutations again as an incentive to get out of bed once the alarm goes off in the morning without the added pressure to leave the threshold of my bedroom. Yoga helps ease the transition between my (usually) euphoric dream state, and the stressful environment of my reality. I revel in a moment of complete tranquility to set my intention for the day.
This morning I was considering the beliefs of two of my closest friends. One of them is an atheist & another, a pious Christian. Yet, they both receive the same level of comfort from their own knowledge of God. I listened to my friend cry their heart out, and then find solace in a biblical scripture the following morning. The physical remains of the night before lie strewn in the Kleenex across the bedroom floor, but all emotional turmoil had dissipated. Their identity and understanding of the universe are ground in that scripture.
I’ve listened to my other friend express their knowledge of the formation of Earth and how human life came to be. Their solace lies in knowing the true origins of life and being brash enough to accept it in the face of disbelief. Their worth wound around complex hypothesis. Perhaps, the universe expresses God as we wish to accept it to be used as a vessel for attaining peace.
Your freckles mirror spots in time.
Growing up I called them dots
Unsure of their meaning, seemingly innocuous
But being older I see the same dots on me
Tickling my skin, imagination
Wonders of where they began.
Whenever we stand side by side I see myself in you
In the dots
I see my grandma, her warts, her spots.
You try to hide warts with make up that’s dark.
A cheetah without spots is a mere cat
You without your identifiers, undone.
Lost is our familial lineage
The unique identity in one mark.
Warts grow, expand,
They attributed Edith May’s to cancer
She says; “my God made me this way”
Warts maturing as the mind does
As the heart grows
As do your wings
My heart has two homes
One made of glass and one made of stone,
yet I remain incomplete, un-whole
throwing stones at glass
trying to penetrate your perfection,
looking for a crack in your pristine transparency
so I can see a reflection of me.
You are perfect and I am unworthy
dirty, undeserving of your love.
But I stay complacently,
hoping maybe, one day I can be the woman you deserve.
Stringing you along singing the same old song
I cry, I know I’m wrong
I don’t know what to do with your love
I don’t know how to live without your strength.
My heart, a place of stone,
impenetrable, soiled, bruised
every negative adjective I can use
I refuse to force another into its muck
So I’m stuck
halfhearted, half of me is still sitting in another’s arms
with a love that didn’t last.
I don’t know how to let go of the past.
I reach for my stone home
because for its solitude and safety
familiarity I can’t refuse
throwing stones at glass so pure, pristine and perfect
Vulnerable and afraid
stupid and betraying the love of my life
for safety and familiarity.
But the cold stone is all I can relate to,
hardened by the trials of life
I feel at home inside these walls of stone
hiding from my mistakes, my mess, my heartbreak
I need to feel the cold I deserve
the hardening, the pain. I hide the real me in these stone walls
from the glass that exposes the pain.
What does it mean to love?
Is it a noun or is it a verb?
Is it a feeling, anything more than just a word?
For years I mused what the essence of love could possibly mean.
I’ve heard that it can make you feel as royal as the queen
As high as a kite
As if you lie on cloud nine.
I thought love was possession,
But I learned my lesson when the man I thought I loved didn’t respect my discretion.
Love became an interjection to the usual direction of my life, a lesson I was not ready to learn. I became afraid to love.
Real love is simple, uncomplicated and unadulterated giving. I’ve spent my whole life trying to get a man to love me by changing myself to suit his needs. I sought unconditional love by giving myself conditions to be loved. I thought, “He must love me because I’m smart. Or, he must love me because my makeup is perfectly applied and my curls are intact.” In my heart, I believed that once these conditions were removed, the love would be also. Many men proved my theories to be true. But, what I didn’t understand was, these men sought my body and lusted after me. I never loved them, nor did they love me.
Love at its core is the act of selfless giving. Giving your all to someone just to see them smile is loving. There is no required reciprocal act because making your lover happy makes you equally happy. Both lovers will do the same for each other when the love is shared between two people, causing their love to grow. Love is indeed an action word that should be displayed through acts of affection, kindness, and giving. There are different ways to express love and the way it is shown to the ‘beloved’ depends entirely on their ‘lover’, but it is most definitely always shown.
My greatest mistake in love was trying to change myself to be worthy of love. This caused my self-worth and self-love to dwindle. Changing myself instead of expressing my love for the person that holds my affection proved to them that I was not worthy of love. I was untrustworthy. If even my love for myself was conditional, how could they love and trust me to love them for who they are? It would be impossible for love to grow between us when I was too afraid to release any love from my being into someone else. My reserves of love were so depleted that I hoarded all ounces of warmth that I possessed.
It was only when I began to love myself, that I became able to trust my body to regenerate love once it had been shared with others, that I was abe to give love freely. I had to fall in love with myself before I was capable of loving anyone else. Once I was comfortable sharing my love, I poured it into a man who I trusted would do the same for me. We fell in love through acts of kindness, affection, honesty and pure intentions. It is love at it’s simplest form.
Falling, falling, falling
drops of my love on you.
running along your skin
dancing over each fear
& all uncertainty.
Deeper, deeper, deeper
penetrating your skin
flowing through your veins
peaceful, tranquil, relief.
Floating, floating, floating
in the streams of your blood.
in polluted sea.
Cleansing, repairing love
healing misplaced grief.
I fell in love.
I loved a man who loves himself greater than I could ever aspire to.
I watched him chase his dreams while he left me
Vying for his love, attention,
appreciation for all of my loving energy
but he doesn’t need me.
He fell in love with himself.
He already loves his flaws,
he doesn’t need my admiration.
He’s already strong,
he doesn’t need me.
But still, I gave and gave
And I cried and cried
Constantly wondering why –
Why doesn’t this man love me?
I tried to be all he needed
But the truth is,
he never needed me particularly,
just the apex of pleasure that lies at the meeting of my thighs.
He needed gratification,
I write all about him,
I wept, without him.
Crying out my unsatisfied reprise for more.
More from him, more of him,
I tried to push us to grow together
but he’s headed to his destination alone.
He push me into his body,
and I pushed him away,
because I could not stay for one more heartbreak.
Now, I lament for him.