My Writings, My Soul
Troubled, the little girl sat beside the tree and pondered the sadness that she did not feel, that she did not recognize stirring within her. “Eyes,” she said softly, “why do you cry? It is lovely outside and you have not seen sadness nor sorrow. What troubles you?”
The warm tears started to fall ever quicker, “oh but we have seen sadness, my dear,” they replied, “The world around you is not what stimulates these tears, but all that exists within your heart. How troubled you are! You do not voice your sorrow, but I can see it within you. What is it that saddens you in this way?”
The little girl sat quietly, unsure of how to answer. “I’m not quite sure. I just feel so sad, sad for things I can control and for those I can’t. It overwhelms me. I find that I cannot control it and the more I dwell on such things, the sadder I become, but it is unavoidable.”
October 16, 2012
I’d give you my all if that’s what you wanted, prove to you that I’d move mountains for you just for a second glance. I’d prove to you that every moment leading up to this was worth it, that every breath you’ve taken was not in vain. that your heart wasn’t meant for breaking, nor your trust for abusing. I’d do anything just to make you smile, just to see your lips part beautifully over your white teeth. I would do anything. absolutely anything. and you know that. and for some reason, that’s not what you want. not from me anyways.
October 05, 2012
every road I’ve ever walked
has all led me here
they’ve led me to you
and you, my dear, are every perfect dream of mine come to life.
October 03, 2012
don’t you understand that when you smile, fears are calmed
when you speak, even the wind stops to listen
and my God, when you laugh, everything comes alive
every sense is heightened
you are everything
every fiber of your DNA is beautiful
every thought that passes through your mind is worth listening to
there is not a part of you that I haven’t fallen in love with
from the hairs on your head to the tips of your toes
and every freckle scattered across your body
you are the better half of me
and I am glad to have found you
August 28, 2012
“I’ve never seen anything like it, the way she walked through the aisles, slowly, like it was summertime and the sun was setting and she was slowly treading through a field of wild flowers. There was magic in every step she took. You had to see it because words wouldn’t do it justice. Like the way she buried her face in books.I watched as she scrunched her nose when something didn’t make sense, the curve of her eye brow when it raised as she read something she didn’t understand, and oh. how i loved the way a smile slowly spread across her face as the words she inhaled pleased her lovely nature. I watched as she glided through the stores, her hand trailing across the aged wooden tables, finger tips falling over the book ends as if she were playing the piano and a soft melody began to play with every motion and curve of her finger. My breathing slowed, my mind stalled, only because what I was witnessing was the purest of pure, a beautiful memory I pray I never forget. She held the book in her hands, softly, turning every page gently, letting her fingers run over the pages as if she were caressing a lover’s face.
I was lost. It was like watching a painter paint, time slows down, your heart rate lulls, and you stand there, captivated by the beauty of the setting. The way the painter dips his brush, gently glides it over the canvas, blending bold, angry colors into comforting pastels. Watching the determination yet tranquility on the painter’s face as he creates an original work of art. Noticing the artist’s facial expression, realizing that you may be in the room with him, but he is not here. His mind is elsewhere, perhaps sitting beside the sea, watching the waves lap at his feet, staring, mentally photographing every detail to remember this feeling, and then…retrieving that memory and painting his perception of it. You couldn’t know the beauty of it, until you witness it.
I continued to stand there and watch as she became engrossed in another book. I watched as she moved a strand of hair that fell carelessly on her shoulders. I watched as her rose hued lips parted softly, spelling out the words she read. This was the book she’d go home with, another temporary release from reality. But it was beautiful to watch. She calmly walked to the counter to buy her paper lover and I watched as she became animated about the book with the clerk. Her passion for this lover was like no other I’d ever seen. And I loved her for it. Because tonight, she wasn’t going home with just one lover, but many lovers. They were a gentlemen of a rare breed, Frost, Thoreau, Yeats, and Whitman.
I loved that she loved. I loved her passion for complexity, for tranquility and history. I loved her.”
workin on somethin new.
“but you see…i knew that it was love…because it was completely inconvenient, hard to accept, made me feel complete, and it was completely and utterly fulfilling and complicated. so much so that you couldn’t describe it..but only feel it. so there I stood, torn and confused, but yet so sure of what I was doing. there are days when I wish I didn’t have a heart, but to be unable to feel the joy that lingers in the world would be a terrible tragedy. he loved me fiercely, but I couldn’t do anything for him. He left me with more questions than answers, he was broken but wouldn’t accept help, and I? I couldn’t fix him. I couldn’t mend whatever was left from ages past and though I couldn’t fix him, I could accept him. it wasn’t much..but it was enough.”
your arms were the doors to a renovated home
eyes, like dusted up windows to a busted up soul
and lips like a mailbox only sending love
your chest was the hearth that I’d curl up to on a cold winter’s night
runnin towards home when things weren’t right
yeah this house is a little worn
carpet may be a little torn
blankets a little frayed
but this is where memories were made
tears were shed
and smiles shared
broken hearts mended
I’m waiting for you to come near again
waitin on you to come back to bed
cuz im sleepy
and love drunk
and homesick for you
My thoughts for today.
I’ve learned to not focus on defeat before I’ve begun to try. I’ve learned to never fear the future, but to enjoy every minute of the present, look forward to the good and to only look back if it is to remind myself how far I’ve come. I’ve learned that I have the ability and determination to make possible things that people say are impossible, especially in my life. I am young and I am still learning, but I will always be learning. Age may be a number, but I am not just my age. this is not my time of life to screw around and be stupid; this is my time to be who it is that I want to be and do all that I can to make a difference. I am strong, determined, and capable of doing anythin that i set my mind to. I am not just my age and if you limit me to that, watch me blow your mind when I show you what I’m capable of. The only limits on our life are the ones we create. I’m going to love like I could die tomorrow, I’m going to give everything my all so that I remember what it’s like to be an honest and hard worker, and I’m going to live knowing that I can do all things including the impossible. My life’s verse has always been this: Philippians 4:13 “I can do ALL things through Christ who strengthens me.” I’ve learned the most important thing there is to know: I AM capable of doing the impossible. Don’t doubt me.
My Naked Soul
Just a naked soul draped over some lovely bones.
not quite old, but I’ve been etched into by life
a little torn
bruised and sore
but I’m alive
breathing and living
swimming in a sea so dead
a sea that hasn’t seen a wave of passion since the Romantics
yet here I am
Just a naked soul draped over some lovely bones.
The shoes don’t fit.
They say we will find ourselves eventually
but what if we were never looking
what if we never saw ourselves beyond the mirror? beyond the family photo?
what if all we have done was step into the shoes of our father or mother
matching their gate
forming our lips around words that are too big for our mouths?
what if I’m the poor painter on the London street in search of inspiration?
What if I never find myself, what if the shoes never quite fit?
Will I be barefoot and wandering aimlessly on these cobble streets?
Where are the shoes made for me?
and if I never find these shoes, may they bury me in the Earth that cushioned my bare feet, may they etch into my tombstone “her journey never ceased”
I am a wanderer
a bare-footed, soul searching, hungry individual who will never stop looking for myself, my true self, the one who was never captured in the family photo blended in to the sea of color coordinated outfits.
One day I will find me, not just bits and pieces. One day I will know who I am, not who they write me to be.
“We were bound to our secrets, shackled by our pasts, always afraid to let the other in. if there was any bit of honesty to be shared in a dry moment of silence it was this: we. were. terrified. of hurt, of potential joy. and above all else, of taking yet another leap with no safety net. this silence was stealing what little oxygen we carried. we were choking on our secrets and on all the words we wanted to say but somehow couldn’t form. and then as both of us were lost in our own world, buried deep under heavily weighted thoughts, we talked about our past, our present, and what we hoped the future would bring, saying anything to fill the gap of awkward silence…and then there was laughter, so loud and hearty that you’d have thought we robbed the world of its joy and kept it all to ourselves, letting it erupt in to the night sky in different pitches. Finally setting free the voices that were held captive for so long. If this was what it meant to be free, until that moment I’d have never known I was a slave”
The Sacrifice (my newest poem)
I dont know what its like to say goodbye
Because I don’t believe in it
I do know what it’s like to hold someone for hours at a time
And solely remember it as a momentary touch
I know what it’s like to watch someone go
Only to never know when they’ll return
I know what it’s like to feel your heart die a little when the orders come in
I know what it’s like to fall asleep next to someone only to wake up next to a soft indentation of a body that was once lying on the mattress top
I’ve watched the slow romantic and tragic process of the sun fade into a starry sky
Thoughts wandering about the milky way wondering if you see what I see
I’ve looked at my hand only to realize your fingers are not intertwined with mine
But to only imagine them wrapped around a trigger.
I’ve waited months for that one kiss, that one embrace that numbs the pain of distance
I’ve held you for hours just to watch you leave again.
On the last night of your leave, I’ll tenderly watch you sleep in the beams of the moonlight, trying to burn this image of you in my mind
This is the last night you will sleep in peace under a blanket of calm not under rugged sheets of sand.
Falling asleep to the beat of my heart not deafening thunder in a hail of gunfire.
And in the morning’s light I will slowly turn over, arms empty, I’ll softly gaze at the way the stars and stripes dance in the wind, only to remember that I’m not the only one making sacrifices.
As long as that flag is flying I know that I’m still free.
Hopefully I’ll see you soon
Signed - still missing my marine
Dedicated to all my Mil Sos
Memory Lane: How We Got Started
So I’m sitting out on my front porch, staring at the stars, wondering what he is up to right now, and as I inhale the late summer time breeze, I’m taken back to a memory that took place not even five feet from where I sit now. It comes alive as i shut my eyes, inhale deeply, and remember the sound of laughter, mixed and multiple conversations and the sight of cheap party decorations, a graduation cake and the smell of my mom’s fried chicken in the garage. There I am, sitting across from a boy who only caught my eye once before, but who holds my gaze captive for the entire night. “Marines” he tells me. That’s where he’s headed. “Army” I reply, stumbling over my words as I push some macaroni salad across my plate, occasionally stealing a quick glance at him, trying to hide a faded blush and smile.
You wouldn’t have known it then, and neither would I, I suppose, but that simple banter led up to a romance neither of us would have expected to birth. Fast forward a couple hours and we are sitting in my quickly cleaned, yet unkempt room, my friends on the floor, jokes being told that no one will remember a year later, but there he sits on my bed holding the love of my life, quickly taking a call from his dad. My niece tries to steal his cake; she’s three months old and already developing a sweet tooth and a hunger to lay claim to what isn’t even hers to possess nor digest, but he humors her, bouncing her on his knee, tickling her occasionally.
it was then that I knew. I knew, that some part of me fell in love with that part of him. I knew that I wasted my heart, body and emotions on those who did not deserve it; I knew I wasted them on someone who was not him. You can’t really explain it; hell, I couldn’t explain it myself even if I tried, but despite my efforts to verbalize what I knew in that moment, I know the feelings never changed. I know that I loved him in that moment just as I love him now, thankful and forever grateful that that part of him still exists. That part of him the Marine Corps never took away because it’s been a year and he still humors her just as he did back then. And though it was a year ago, I still fall in love with that part of him over and over again, as if time never moved on, as if January 17 never came and he never left, like we stayed in that moment, like it was all we would ever be capable of living in, in a moment where only absolute truth existed and doubt never reared it’s ugly face and tormented heart. For once it was nice to be sure of something.
Days passed by after that party and our friendship steadily grew into more, hungering for something more, yet unsure of what it would be. Walks around the blocks that I wished would never cease, star gazing and me mentally begging -to no avail- that morning should only delay itself another day. Then there were walks on the beach that ended to soon, despite the fact that I couldn’t keep up with his fast paced gate, just as he couldn’t keep up with my fast paced train of thought and speech.
Day after day texts were sent, pulses increased at the sight of an unread message, plans were made and dates became a regular occurrence. A fresh, white, peony flower, not quite ready to blossom, rested in a glass one night. The night of Midnight Moonlight as we referred to it. The night we walked on the beach at Midnight, by the light of the full moon. We buried ourselves in a sand trench laughing, talkin about our pasts, present and futures, something to fill the awkward gaps of silence. And then there was laughter, so loud and hearty that you’d have thought we robbed the world of its joy and kept it all to ourselves, letting it erupt in to the night sky in different pitches. Tickling each other, rolling around in the sand until he had me pinned.
He leaned over me, pinning my arms over my head, his heavy breathing begging for a break and ribs aching from Warrior Training, but his eyes, a light brown with a hint of green, powerful, sweet, playful and inviting, begging me to kiss him. I wanted him, and all the safety and security that he could offer. I wanted his kind lips against mine, his joy to permeate my soul, his laughter to ring in my ear and lull me to sleep every night, his smile to assure me when all things fell apart as fate always seems find a weak moment for it to do so, and I wanted his sweet smell to stay on my clothes and to never abandon me.To say I wanted him sexually would be an absolute false accusation, but I did want the most intimate parts of his soul to intertwine and get tangled up with mine in a complex and romantic fashion, so complex that it would be beyond repair.
Our curfews warranted our return home, so at the door, despite my innermost wishes, he hugged me and said goodnight. As I gently walked back to my room, feeling as if I hovered above the carpet, I noticed something. The white peony -the flower that the tall, gangly boy had stolen from a neighbors garden- whose petals were shut tight, refusing to open up to a cruel world aching for joy and leaving the world to attempt to appreciate it’s form of innocence and purity, had fully blossomed and had filled my room with a soft yet rich perfume that stayed for 2 weeks time. One inhale was what finally made me realize it was time to let my ex go.
It was the following day that I officially left Jon. We gave it three years, and I gave it a life time of emotion. It was over before it had begun, but neither of us could own up to a third failure. He knew he couldn’t give me what I wanted. Time. Time to cultivate a romance with seeds that clearly were not meant to prosper. Time to invest into another’s life. Time to learn about each other, time to talk about intimate things like life, time to really…figure out what we were.
I will never know why he longed to keep me despite the times i ran away, nor why I desperately clung to him, as if I needed to always have a sense of familiar despite my lack of happiness. I will also never know what he wanted from me, but I do know, and will always remember, what I never received from him.
Laughter was a stranger to us, same with communication, understanding, and the desire to pursue something honorable in life. He was a lost soul searching for someone who would never give up on him, and I was a runner, someone who wouldn’t stop running, no matter the direction, always in search of someone who would run with me against all odds. Maybe that’s why he wanted me, because I made him feel wanted, or because I was something that always needed to be chased, but the thing is, sometimes our heart knows something before our mind does. Mine knew that Gunnar, in all of his kindness and oddities, truly would give me what I needed, not just what I hoped for or wanted.
He changed my life that summer. Almost every moment was with him, and even when we were apart, he was the sunrise, the sunset, and the stars above. For the longest time, I felt safe even if he wasn’t near. That was one thing he gave me, even in his absence, security and protection.
And even now, almost a year later, engaged to be married, yet separated by the military, he still gives me the gift of security. No, I can’t see him when I’d like, and our time together is not at our disposal as it once was, but despite the miles in between, we make it work. We stay close. And I know, no matter how long we are apart, separated by cities or seas, I will always want the most intimate parts of him to entangle themselves with my own, not for pleasure, but for love. And yes, we are waiting til marriage and yes, sometimes I wish we weren’t, but I’ve waited 19 yrs to fall in love with someone as rare as him - though in my youth I never would have dreamed he’d be in existence or that I’d be sitting here now walking through memory lane - and I’ve waited just as long to find someone who truly was made for me. So surely I can wait another couple years to give him me, in every form.
I’ve been told that I can lose him in battle or that his job may cost him a leg, an arm, or maybe two of each, but death, as powerful as it is, can never separate the love of soul mates. It’s not every day you find a heart that genuinely beats for the sake of someone’s heart, joy, smile or life in general, but when you find it, you know that no matter what the years of war or peace may bring, that love, that burning passion will never reduce to embers so long as you remind yourself how the journey started. I would love him even if he had no arms to hold me, no legs to tangle with my own, no hands to wipe away tears or hold his future child, or even if he could no longer see through those beautiful eyes that see me at my worst and still find reason to love me. I’d marry him even if I had to sit on his lap in a wheel chair for our first dance. I would, you know. And I’d hope he’d do the same.
The simple comforts of this love are these: despite either of our locations, the same starry sky is above us, the same sun will rise and fall, and the love between us two will never fade. And just as I was sure of my love for him that night as he held my niece, I’m sure of this now: time will carry us apart, but even though time ages the body, it doesn’t truly age the love. It makes it wiser and more cautious, but future time cannot alter the past. And I’m sure that nothing time could do to me in the future, could change or erase the moment I knew I first loved him. Time can’t do that. It can delay, by seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, or years, but it can’t erase the truth we’ve built in stone, nor the memories and emotions we engrave in our hearts.
My Very Own Miracle
Miracles. they happen every day you know. you may not be there to witness it, but all around the world they are happening. blind people are miraculously able to see, the lame can walk, the woman incapable of giving birth suddenly has a house filled with her child’s laughter, and then in even simpler forms…hearts are being mended.
thats what he did for me. he didn’t know my past, except for what I told him, which wasn’t much at first…but slowly and surely, he started to realize how broken I was. Communication wasn’t normal for me. It was a “Oh you screwed up? I’m gone”. that’s what I was used to. Needless to say, i saw more of people’s backs then i did their own faces. he changed that. logically, i never wanted to trust him, but my heart said otherwise. after being broken so many times and finding no reason to trust anyone, it finally decided to give it another shot, but why him?
I guess he, too, was like me. Broken hearted, let down by the world and those he considered close, really unwilling to give love another shot. Maybe it was a coincidence or maybe it was fate, but I don’t think it was any mistake that we found each other. He shared his heart aches and I shared mine, and our mutual brokenness seemed to start our own means of repair.
he was the one who wasn’t given a chance, and I was the one who gave too many. Both let down by other people. both of us got familiar with the backside of the human body more so than someone’s face.
We learned from each other though. Even when words were never spoken. The presence of the other person seemed to be enough for now. I eventually taught him that he was worth loving, and he taught me that I was more than a body. Silly and simple, but that’s who we are. Simple people brought down by complex emotions with eyes that have seen to much, ears that have only heard unkind words, and a heart that was abused before it could ever be handled with care.
that was our miracle. finding each other and repairing the other in ways that only the other could. I had what he needed, and he had what I longed for. like a puzzle piece if you will.
We’re not meant to give up on the miracles that randomly appear in our life, and he is mine. Gunnar was my miracle, and in some way or another, I too was his. We saved each other in some way, both literal and metaphorical. It was as if fate had given each of us a life preserver and directed us on where to find the one we were meant to save.
Just as I don’t give up on miracles, I’m not giving up on him. Neither time nor distance can ever change that.
This is me...my poetic side...my writer side. This is me without censoring my inner most thoughts and emotions. yeah it may be romantic, but some of my writings are just things that come to mind, like a creation or a beginning to a story.
Even with my clothes on, on here...I'm naked.