Weight of the Moon

the soft glow peeking through the horizontal shades is somehow non-linear,
and I close my eyes,
sinking into the infinite shadows,
the weight of the moon taking residence inside me

I shiver,
a foreshadowed shiver,
one of cozy, downy feathers,
of curves and entwined limbs and warm whispers,
of puzzle-pieced pockets of warmth,
of you,
sliding in next to me

it’s so peaceful here,
in the shadows

here, I’m home;
I am the soft side of something strong,
the warmth of something fierce,
half of some crazy energy I can’t quite explain –
something as strong and as tranquil as the weight of the moon

-image via Flickr



she was mesmerized;
there was something about him that pulled her to him the way a diamond holds the light

he was down-to-earth,

but it was much more than that –
he was quiet, yet confident,

he wasn’t afraid to show her how much he adored her,
wasn’t afraid to make a decision,
wasn’t afraid to fail

he wasn’t afraid to share of himself,
to be honest and hear honesty,
to say ‘I’m sorry’ when things went wrong

he made her feel safer than she’d ever felt,
and that made him sexier than anyone she’d ever met

-image via Pixabay

Take It or Leave It

don’t be angry;
I haven’t become someone else
in front of your eyes

the problem is,
you don’t want this to be me –
you have always had some idea of me
that doesn’t exist,
some set of expectations I can’t possibly
live up to

you have constructed some ideal based
on something inside you,
and you have seen what you have
wanted to see –
you have refused to see my truth

but it’s been so very exhausting,
and not very fair to have to pretend
all the time

you don’t know me,
but I’ve been right here,
all along

here I am –
take it or leave it

-image via Pinterest, original source unknown

Little Things

I don’t wanna talk about the little things;
I have too many things to say
and not enough energy to say them

it seems so futile,
speaking in this hypothetical past present,
the tense of lost chances,
while these Groundhog Days days go on and on,
sticky and thick like syrup

I don’t want to talk about the little things,
so I hang on to shards of hope,
turning them over and over until my mind is smooth

-image via Tumblr, original source unknown


as she nestled into the stubbled crook of his neck,
the prickle-bite tickle-scraping her forehead and the musky smell of wood and darkness hovering,
he spoke, low and flowing,
as if he had all the time in the world,
the words’ echoing in his chest tangible,
a reverberation of time itself against her cheek as he offered her a small, silvery sliver of his history,
of himself,
of love

and she realized in that moment –
everything is infinite if you have the patience

-image via Pinterest, original source unknown


heaves and sighs finally slowing and eyes beginning to focus,
we lay entwined on the gray, satiny sheets,
damp and rumpled beneath us as we floated back to this plane,
and I couldn’t help but feel as if we’d evaporated,
two becoming one dense stratus,
a unifying blanket hugging the horizon and stretching to somewhere other,
some sacred place created by you and I where my heart was able to reach the door that it had locked,
where yours blew in,
seeing the never-before-seen and knowing the unknowable,
knowing me,
and the two of us each knowing more,
becoming more than we were before,
becoming one

and I wondered –
will anything ever feel this real?

-image via Tumblr, original source unknown


how dare he?,
she asked herself, over and again,
fuming, cheeks hot,
thoughts running circles,
round and round, in a spiral,
down, reluctantly,
to where the truth lies

after running head first,
over and over,
into a wall built of debris which she no longer needed,
after running and running into herself,
the anger she had stoked all day had finally burned away,
like waves of afternoon heat giving way to the horizon as evening falls,
and she was left with only one thought,
cool and crystalline and as piercing as a her reply had been:

he was right

image via Pixabay


am I irrelevant?

I suppose asking that question
is like pissing in the wind,
when the answer is likely
to be twisted,
pointed back in my direction,
the wall of defense too thick,
when I’m left feeling peripheral,
in focus only when my voice is loud,
the squeaky wheel getting the grease,
a game of manipulation,
one I’m no longer willing to play,
when my thinking of you and hoping you’ll do the same becomes inconsequential,

ash, blowing in the wind

-image via Pinterest, original source unknown


you allowed me to silence the noise,
to listen to my voice,
a conscious choice,
to feel the pain to find the joys

you are the sparkle in my spirit,
the waterfall to my basin,
the steady voice; I always hear it,
the capital to my nation

with you, I can finally exhale,
adding tools, while sinking nails,
trading anchors for billowing sails,
building foundation, while blazing trails

you allow me see myself clearly –
to stop fighting against rules,
because we write our own, freely,
open communication our fuel

-image found on Tumblr, original source unknown



they say the pines a’whisper,
a rustling lullaby song,
as the breeze plucks at treetops,
and cool nights grow dark and long

but their sound does not lull, no,
it sings harshly of a ‘bye,
disappearing in shadow,
and cruel whispering of lies

there’s no bogeyman hiding,
in the darkest nooks of night,
it’s absence that’s a’haunting,
hollow howls in the moonlight

-image found via rebloggy.com, revised older poem