Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Magic Soaking My Spine

The peace and stillness in my heart
felt so wonderful while it lasted.
Like water dripping off my
hair after just having been washed by
the golden hands of an imagined goddess.

My inner spaces seemed to have been
aired out and wrung dry. 
They were clean,
bright white and freshly scented,
 with fabulously,
sparkly, crisp edges.

I never thought the thoughts of this
possible possibility
to even be really
possible (ever at all).
The universe knew that I knew.
It told me so when the mail arrived
the day before my decision was
even thought of.

When the words were spoken,
it sounded like she'd suddenly dislodged
piece of hard candy from HER throat.
I thought it must be have been
a hastily spoken alternative. 
A red-herring meant to uncover a
hidden head still
buried in the sand.
Instead, agreement, not argument
With the next leap of faith,
I spoke honestly to love.
She told me to find another way.
I guess she meant it.
(For once, someone that
says what they mean
and means what they say.)

I told her that it wouldn't take HER
long to self-sabotage the
whole deal.
(Sooner than I thought, in fact.)
She said she hoped it
would end up to be true
and that she, herself, would get
the girl in the end.

Either way, it was
almost two whole days of bliss.
I know it will return again.

Progress from the inside out and the outside in.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Holding onto rocks

Last night I dreamt
that I was
a young Tuscan girl
with long,
midnight black,
flowing hair.

I was wearing
a black gauze dress
with no stockings
or shoes on.

I was sitting
on top of a large hill
carpeted with lush
green grass.

My voice
was stuck inside
medium sized
gray rocks
and I was
them open
I had something
to say.

Things I know for sure...

Good Aim

"But, it doesn't HAVE to be this way."
I heard her say
I smile
a halfhearted smile
that she doesn't understand
what it's taken ME
so long to figure out.

It's never been
a choice
or my choice
or HER choice.
Some where
some how
and for some reason
(understood by someone - hopefully)
a big, red circle was drawn
around the spot
that I now stand in.

Caught between
this speeding silver bullet
and the target on my head.

Tuesday, March 09, 2010

Short Story

Once upon a time...

There was a little girl named, Sublime.  She thought she knew what it was all about.  She thought she had a plan, plain and simple.  Things would fall into place with no effort on her part, just like usual.

Today, all grown up and looking a little tired, she now knows better.

The End

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

The inevitable defeat and other tales of self-inflicted heartbreak.

Once in awhile, a person comes along...
that makes my "hope bone" start to act up.

As simple as a word, gesture, smile, feeling or
next to nothing.
If the fates (or I) allow, we connect.
(black or white - too soon to tell)

"Pour me a big ol' glass of this, cuz I'm thirsty."
...I hear myself say.

That's the moment.
Right then & there.
It's done.
Instant love.
*Just add me*
Atoms smashing, planets colliding, fates allowing,
destiny fullfilled.


Time takes hold and
the newness gets dusty.
My voice gets weary and grows quiet
in direct proportion to your faults being revealed.
I begin an unreliable,
yet steady limp
toward your inevitable feeling of being at fault
for "something".

Those spoken words grow heavy
in the space
between my brain and ears.
They become the first important layer placed
on my newly calibrated
and delicately balanced scale.

Feeling unmasked,
as if I'm seeing you for the first time
with new eyes,
Justice is no longer blind.

From then on,
for reasons as simple as a word, gesture, smile, feeling or
next to nothing,
the tipping scale swings.
*Judge and Jury*

Contractions of inconvenient, annoying, pitiful and
wretched feelings set in.
The final push begins.
A train that can't be stopped.
*Caution ahead*

I brush off my villainous disguise and
give a hardy laugh. 
Hands tied, mouth gagged, and squirming,
I throw your rope-bound body across the tracks.
You never had a chance.

The inevitable defeat
and other tales of self-inflicted heartbreak
has already ended.
*With my condolences*


Blogging about it all was just making me exhausted and having to remember all the details (sometimes best forgotten) was getting to me. Every time I'd read one of my posts, I was taking myself back to when things happened and reliving it all over again. Too hard to 'forgive' when the past was constantly a fresh, glaring reminder of the pain caught in a timeless moment on the written page. Does that make any sense?