I refused to wash
my hair this
morning so I could still
smell like
you.
-the White Gypsy poetry
A Collection of Creative Writings
4/18/14
D R I N K
drink, through those
parched and
c r a c k e d lips, a desert,
lifeless, desperate for water.
desperate for Life.
drink,
my Blood, broken
and
spilled
out
like rivers,
the kind that cleanses
your secrets, your sins.
I know you.
be broken for Me,
so that I
may flood
the c r a c k s
and wash you
clean.
drink, my child,
marry me, dance
in bittersweet release.
you are my everything.
drink,
beloved. Let my
Blood be
in your veins.
taste the
bitterness of your sins,
like whips upon
my back, taste
the sourness of your straying,
like thorns upon
my brow, for with
every drop,
I loved you more.
drink, and
remember Me.
for in my
darkest hour,
it was you
whom
I
was thinking of.
parched and
c r a c k e d lips, a desert,
lifeless, desperate for water.
desperate for Life.
drink,
my Blood, broken
and
spilled
out
like rivers,
the kind that cleanses
your secrets, your sins.
I know you.
be broken for Me,
so that I
may flood
the c r a c k s
and wash you
clean.
drink, my child,
marry me, dance
in bittersweet release.
you are my everything.
drink,
beloved. Let my
Blood be
in your veins.
taste the
bitterness of your sins,
like whips upon
my back, taste
the sourness of your straying,
like thorns upon
my brow, for with
every drop,
I loved you more.
drink, and
remember Me.
for in my
darkest hour,
it was you
whom
I
was thinking of.
4/1/14
L U N A
Shut your eyes and sleep my soul
that Splenda forgotten in your pocket has made you
artificially sweet, you know.
(it is true they say, well, you are what you eat.)
A heart slow as honey, crystallized by fear.
comb those frozen coals, it's still frigid here.
I'm lost among the constellations, just a short journey from the moon
such craters of stagnant waters for eyes,
yet, just a spec within the galaxies,
a star burned out too soon.
I cannot show you weakness (though I'm a hurricane inside)
yet I'll never quite be enough
a little more sacrificed with every tide,
a tenderness washed in,
tough.
I won't keep you from winding down,
but I'll lock
you in that cage between my ribs
and hide you there even
if it kills me to forgive.
I'll go quietly, not a
single
protest of sound.
Two hundred and thirty-four days later, you're around and
I'm still waiting for an answer, waiting for nothing new
but I'm afraid
my pursuit of loving isn't as powerful
as the damage I can do.
that Splenda forgotten in your pocket has made you
artificially sweet, you know.
(it is true they say, well, you are what you eat.)
A heart slow as honey, crystallized by fear.
comb those frozen coals, it's still frigid here.
I'm lost among the constellations, just a short journey from the moon
such craters of stagnant waters for eyes,
yet, just a spec within the galaxies,
a star burned out too soon.
I cannot show you weakness (though I'm a hurricane inside)
yet I'll never quite be enough
a little more sacrificed with every tide,
a tenderness washed in,
tough.
I won't keep you from winding down,
but I'll lock
you in that cage between my ribs
and hide you there even
if it kills me to forgive.
I'll go quietly, not a
single
protest of sound.
Two hundred and thirty-four days later, you're around and
I'm still waiting for an answer, waiting for nothing new
but I'm afraid
my pursuit of loving isn't as powerful
as the damage I can do.
3/6/14
I want to write you a love song
but the wind outside is making me cold, chilling my bones
a winter; permafrost
but underneath the ground is alive.
I want to grow you a garden of pine, a shelter
of shade and sweet-smelling sap;
a calming cup of tea,
writing poetry while in a coma of caffeine.
Yet, I tend to forget you are in the song,
in the clickety-clack of typewriter keys,
that you remain in the memories in the memory of me.
For you, you are an everything. Not just a something,
but a something and so much more.
The first laugh after heartbreak,
a cracked door.
The stone to sharpen my dull sword.
Maybe a lover, but for the first time a friend.
Though there are miles of mascara stains
and doubts as dark as blotted ink,
after the moon has circled the sky, each phase more illusive than one before
we shall see a harvest.
the strength to keep swimming until our lungs are
filled full and
we sink.
Whether lose ourselves to be found or, forbid, we be condemned for our sin,
maybe if not now, we'll still begin again.
The angels still sing love songs of alleluia
praise God, praise God,
Amen.
but the wind outside is making me cold, chilling my bones
a winter; permafrost
but underneath the ground is alive.
I want to grow you a garden of pine, a shelter
of shade and sweet-smelling sap;
a calming cup of tea,
writing poetry while in a coma of caffeine.
Yet, I tend to forget you are in the song,
in the clickety-clack of typewriter keys,
that you remain in the memories in the memory of me.
For you, you are an everything. Not just a something,
but a something and so much more.
The first laugh after heartbreak,
a cracked door.
The stone to sharpen my dull sword.
Maybe a lover, but for the first time a friend.
Though there are miles of mascara stains
and doubts as dark as blotted ink,
after the moon has circled the sky, each phase more illusive than one before
we shall see a harvest.
the strength to keep swimming until our lungs are
filled full and
we sink.
Whether lose ourselves to be found or, forbid, we be condemned for our sin,
maybe if not now, we'll still begin again.
The angels still sing love songs of alleluia
praise God, praise God,
Amen.
Understanding (Written June 8, 2011)
For once I am at a cross for words
it is a place I am visiting more often
feels like a loss
like a letter I once wrote, regarded
in the midst of rush hour
I can say that I know you and
the beauty is overwhelming
Skip, scratch, repeat
My nerves will be the death of me
these are not my verbs
I could talk about my heart
say something about how it beats for you
I could thank you for dinner
but I must have missed that cue
Somewhere under your bed, I lie in wait
the scent of your shirt, the first smell of my wake
at least I won’t be alone tonight
I cry because such love songs say it all
so why do I still feel so small?
to fit in the palm of your hand
Kiss, Caress, Understand
Still I haven’t noticed
Hidden in plain view
Maybe soon I’ll be under-
standing right in front of you
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