Loose Ends

I can’t seem to keep the dog from stealing my seat,
the screen door from flying open in the wind,
the breeze from sneaking in through the crack in the window seal,
or stop the overpriced tv from shutting off in the middle of my program

I can’t seem to stop the kitchen faucet’s brain-numbing dripping,
the buffering, buffering of my too-slow connections,
the fucking updates from making everything slower,
or stop the dishwashing detergent from making everything taste like soap

I can’t seem to wash away the smell of woods and pine hanging on my every thread,
the linger of bourbon-soaked conversations between sweat-soaked sheets,
the feeling of your fingertips gliding across my skin,
or stop the electricity from crackling between us in trails of gooseflesh

I have so many loose ends, it seems,
too many to list

but, Baby, you aren’t one of them

-image via Pixabay

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Earthshaking

when my exhausted back is aching
and my weathered hands are shaking,
when my tired eyes need waking
and my cluttered mind needs a’raking

there you are, tugging at frayed edges
that need staking,
helping pick up the jagged pieces
that are crumbling and breaking

never turning away
from love’s work that’s painstaking,
investing in the us
that’s forever in the making

we’ve found holy land
in this sacred giving and taking,
and everyday I’m blown away –
because my love for you is earthshaking

-image via Tumblr

The Forest


I’m lost in a forest of the tallest trees, inundated with wickedly bent, sinister trunks, and thicket so dense my feet can barely move, the air damp and heavy, sitting like rocks in my lungs.

Swiping and slashing, I claw at the overgrowth’s sharpness, aching to lift my legs and move, grasping for vines that might save me. Yet, I don’t want to be saved, exactly. I crave absolution.

On tattered, tired, and bended knees, I offer you a ridged branch, begging for penance, desperate for your command, yearning for you to envelope me in the shelter of your palm.

Help me be my vine.

And then I wonder, how heavy is that staff? Is the weight just too much?

You answer, you deliver. You take and give, give and take. With each conviction, a little of you infiltrates me, suffocating the darkness, penetrating every fiber of muscle, saturating each porous bone, filling and filling until you seep up through every follicle and pore, spilling out and bending to my every contour, forming a shield upon my flesh that no thorn can puncture.

Now, I can weave my vine, with threads of you in the center, the strength in its core.

Together we can conquer; we can see the forest though the trees.

-image via Pixabay

Everyday

she’s the sound of thunder,
amidst the lemming rain

she’s the smell of salt,
when she sees another’s pain

she’s the taste of lemon,
when she knows you’re playin’ games

she’s the feel of wind blown hair,
when she holds your hand, unafraid

she is beauty personified,
her humble heart on display

she’s the best kind of madness,
and I get to love her everyday