You said you’d read me like your favorite childhood book.
Cherishing every word as they mimicked a story
you knew so well. While evolving over the years into
something much more. Studying my eyes as the
illustrations of my soul poured out in tears like
rivers you traveled. Yet instead of flowing with the
currents of happiness you forced me to bend my pages
at your will, fraying my already delicate edges, tearing me
apart and leaving me waiting for days on end…
You’d left for good; our book never to be read or cherished
again. I rushed into my study, seeking solace from the pain that
threatened to engulf me whole. My tears blinded me as
I flung myself to the floor before my bookshelf, jarring loose
a book. It fell to my lap like a dove falling dead to the earth,
but perhaps it was more a message of hope than despair. I picked
it up and gave a wry smile. “The Secret Garden”: an unlikable
heroine, and how I could see myself in Mary Lennox and her
circumstances. The book itself, a tattered old paperback, reflected
my life almost as well as the story contained within its battered covers.
Writing collaboration between Jenn Farmer (2nd part) and myself (1st).
This project was a lot of fun considering our different writing styles and I believe it came out wonderfully between the two of us. Hopefully if this is done again we can get more writers to collaborate.
Let my Life not be Prosaic,
but in Everything a Flowing Allegory
to the Next Moonlit Window
of a Falling Star over
My Sea of Dreams.
He was all prepared or so he thought as he perched upon his stool. Right in front of the breathtaking wonders in view. His rickety, old, paint splattered easel in front of him with an almost impenetrable and primed canvas in a soft light ecru. It was brought to perfect tension for his forcible nature to be withdrawn as imposed against the gib. Ready to be constrained by his desires within. Yet he paused….His eyes seemed to be veiled at what he knew logically to be true. His perception distorted as if in a gold-fish bowl and hitting his nose on the dish. He looked at his canvas and blankly stared, questioning his abilities to paint what was there. As he gazed in awe and moans came as gentle mumbles; while the intensity so much that sweat drips from his temples. He picked up his brush and his tray of paint; started with the sky down to the water reflecting below. As the horizon was added along with the surrounding background and clouds above. Sensing someone was watching his every move, he took a deep breath and painted a man looking away so he would again feel alone. His hands trembled as the brush was washed for the final and most crucial part of his art. When he looked again through the bowl, there were old dead trees at the back of the water’s edge, with a woman tied at one and a flag above her head. A boat that had been dry landed. And the haze of the moon shone. Swans gathered in three in the shallow water, as elephants washed at the water’s edge seemly below. Even snakes silvered their way around the water’s edge, if nothing more than for a drink also. His sweating increased as his heartbeat raced; seeing faces when in reality he knew he was still alone. Stuck in a fish bowl of perception, but a becoming awareness that he was feeling numb. Over excited he came in his pants, waking as he fell off the stool. Looking up immediately at his canvas…one line was all he drew.
And sometimes late at night
when the moon glows softly
though my dirty window panes
I see my reflection & deep into
my heart at the monster
I have become.
Knuckles white with anger, heart
of stone, callused with hurt,
emotionless eyes and a smirk.
But the shining stars glimmer as the
moon whispers secrets in the wind,
reminding me, I am simply human.
Blood red, old scars showing
me I survived and somehow
always learning to smile again.
You trace my spine with your fingertips…
as I bare myself to you. Leaving now your
kisses upon my shoulder blades as you
overcome me continuing to pursue. Gently
you caress down the contours of my breast
as you sink further into me. Soft light moans
do persist as we slowly weave ourselves into
one while sharing a breath as we breathe.
Two souls intertwined so deeply and a love so
grand; neither of us had experienced until
we held each other’s hand within the moonlight
and as the stars aligned. Now even
when in distance we never are apart for
each of us has traded the other for a piece
of the other’s heart.
This place is so bright and cheery.
Oh dear I’ve lost my way.
How do I get back to dark and dreary;
that’s where I belong!
Darkness cradles me in his arms
with just a slight chill in the air.
Shadows dance for me
as the moon peeks in and out
of clouds in the star filled sky.
Whispering sounds echo through
the night letting me know I am not
the only one there.
Yes, yes that’s where I belong!
Not among this Hell out here.
Photo by Maryna Khomenko
And She Read to Him, Her Desires…
I feel like I have been living
a thousand lives
through eternities all my life…
I am so very tired.
Please, if you truly know,
how can one rest for a while?
She had Amber Waves of Curls &
when She was Good She was very,
very Good & when She was Bad She
was Even Better. Many called Her
Unstable which was Fine & Dandy with
her because She knew Stable Places
were for Horses. She was as Insane as
could be since the Dawn of Her Arrival,
yet She didn’t Care that Most were to
“Normal” to Understand Her or even Try to.
She preferred the Company of the Wildlife
around Her instead of the Hustle of
Monotonous BS that Reality Lead to.
She Created Her Own Secret Worlds full
of Mystery & Intrigue until She could get back
Safely among the Stars She Belonged to.