November

I'll never settle with the fact that November brings the floods. 

I find myself standing here, bucket in hand trying to keep my boat floating. 

Bucket after bucket.

 

I just want to be dry. Warm and dry.

When the sound of rushing water dulls into background noise I dream of you. You and your laugh, you and your sweet sweet laugh. We're in a boat all our own. Painted yellow and set to sail a few too many times. But it is ours and that is all that matters to us. Sometimes I dream of porch swings, and late night stories, but no matter what I always dream of you.

That's all I ask of you

Anywhere you go let me go too
Love me

That's all I ask of you

 

There is a lover out there, cut from a cloth all its own. Taylor made to love every flaw, and embrace every sideways smile. His shoulders are square, and strong. His eyes are bright and his heart is whole. He'll say her name like its beautiful and hold her for fear of losing her.

 

Someday he will find her

 

 

 

She was loved by him in everyway she wanted to love him.

 

They sat together in the mornings, at the table in the sun. She drank a cup of coffee and a cup of tea, and he let the sun on her face warm his heart. He wrote of her and the magic sound of her footsteps in their quiet humble home. He sang off key, and held her without reasons. She slipped out of bed each morning, so that he's shower water would be warm when he woke up. Their old wood floor groaned under their feet when they dance without music, and they repainted their splintering front door with each new season. She kissed the worries away and pretended not to see the second cookie leave the tray. He was passionate, and his hands were strong. He held her close every chance he had because to him she was the world. Their hands and hearts fit together like puzzle pieces. She painted him pictures and he believed they were art even when they weren't. Kisses never lost there spark, and his breath on her neck still made her hands tremble. Her garden overalls made him smile and the sight of her in her old silk robe always took his breath away. She was the star in his sky each night and He was her sunrise every morning.

                                                  and oh how they loved

Her name is Alice

 

I want to be loved the way I love.
I've never been able to figure out loving myself, and I'm beginning to think that's why no one else can love me.

I've never been what I wish I was and the let down breaks me every time.

Maybe if I wasn't so tall
Maybe if my cup was a little fuller
Maybe if I had better posture
Maybe if my nose didn't so obviously reflect my culture
Maybe if I didn't dance out my emotions
Maybe if I wasn't as much to hold on to
Maybe if my skin was white like snow
Maybe if I could let my words go
Maybe if my eyes were green, or blue, or interesting
Maybe if my past wasn't so dark
Maybe if I put my books on a shelf and picked up a makeup brush
Maybe if I cared less
Maybe if my life was easy and my mind was free
Maybe if I could laugh like the summer breeze and sing like the birds

Maybe I would be loved.
Loved like I love.
Maybe I could be loved.
Loved the way I love.

Teach me to let go, my arms are tired but yours could be my home.

I hide it. Its my secret, and my burden.

Its the cement on my feet and the chains around my wings.

I don't know when it happened, and I can't quite tell you why. It happened, that's all I know.
People say time heals everything but I think time just tricks your mind into losing the details. It turns off the lights and spins you around until up isn't up and right is definitely left. I can't ever remember, but I never forget and that's the hardest part. My life is this off tilt scavenger hunt for a perfect place between holding onto hope and letting go of sorrow; of letting the pain fall and holding my head high with grace and smile.



I may not be broken, but sometimes not breaking is the painful part



No one warns you that even highs feel low sometimes. There is no guide to coping with emotional tidal waves. And I've yet to see Over Coming The Empty Feeling In Your Heart For Dummies on the shelf at Barnes and Nobel. To be fair no one could have anticipated the series of fortunate and unfortunate events that would Tetris their way together to make my life. I put the pieces where I though they would fit. some days I look at my handy work and hate myself, some days I see a work of art. I wonder if that's how God feels when he looks at me. I wonder if that's the same sort of thing you think when you read my writing. I wonder if you read my blog.

Part of my hopes you do, and he does, and they all will someday. Part of me prays no one does.
All of me wishes I wasn't so torn all the time.
I feel like two parts that aren't one but make no sense without the other
Yin and Yang are two asshole because they really had me going with the two halves of a whole, balance, black and white bullshit.

I think if my soul could find peace in this body of mine I'd be a whole person.

I think if I could dust the sad off my happy I'd find a little more peace.

I could be happy. And I could be beautiful. And I could be the reason your heartbeats and the corners of your mouth reach for heaven.

Hold me until I know who I am