Thank you. And thank you for the suggestion, I think your title works better than my own.

Thank you. And thank you for the suggestion, I think your title works better than my own.

Thank you for always reading

I couldn't stay away. You knew I'd be back, we both knew it. It is you after all, who fills my empty spaces. It is unto you that I pour out my soul's contents. Our moments together may be secret trysts, tucked away from the critical eyes of the world, sometimes ripped apart but they are never forgotten.

To feel the sleekness of you against my palm; the weight of you in my hand familiar as we join together almost as if we had never parted. The cool white sheet beneathe us holds it's breath in anticipation for that moment when we will begin to move in a rhythm that is both new and old, for we are both never the same as we discover and rediscover each other.

Sometimes it's a slow, sweet build and it's completion leaves a satisfied humm within. But more often than not, it's a frenzied race to completion. Feelings colliding! Pain and pleasure laid side by side so the one begins to explain the other. Frustration and anger mounting, as we try to make sense of the storm raging within.

And in its destructive aftermath, I am left feeling raw and exposed. Disgusted by the words on the page beneathe us, knowing I can't take them back. Ashamed because deep down, I know I don't want to.

Exhausted and confused by this new place you've brought me to, this place void of shadows and dark; I walk away from you like I've done so many times before. And you'll lie there, patiently waiting for that day next week, next month, or even tomorrow, when once again my days have gotten too dark.
You know I'll be back; we both know it and together, we'll move again.
We will write our way back into the light.

Sometimes it's hard to leave the past behind.
We walk away, but can't help but glance back.
Even as we look ahead, we are aware of its presence behind us,
a shadow that can't be caught.

We make vows to forget.
We promise to let go.
We walk around pretending that we are reborn in each moment.
All future.
No past.
Memories are not bodies to be buried in mass graves, never to rise again.

Look at the scars on my body, and I shall tell you a story of a young girl who used to share her plate of maas with a puppy named Rex.
Look at the scars on my heart and I shall tell you a story of a young woman who discovered death and the life it left behind.
Happiness and tears weigh down the scales in this past of mine.
Sometimes balanced.
Most times not.

#JUST A THOUGHT ON THIS RAINY DAY#

I don't think that one can give their heart without there being a big degree of vulnerability involved.

I don't know anyone who's lost a child, but I found that after I lost my mom every loss seemed personal; whether I knew the deceased or not.

Took me a while to figure out what this meant... Thank you, and for all the others too.

Thank you

She sits alone in the bright yellow room. The faint smell of baby powder still lingering in the air. The mobile hanging limply above the crib, as if it too had been robbed of life.

Robbery. There was no other way to describe it. Here one moment, snatched out of your arms the next. Swift and silent, you only had to blink your eyes and that which you held dear was gone.
Death.
A crime without justice.

She had loved him.
From that very first moment when the nurse had placed him, bloody and screaming in her arms, complaining at this sudden removal from his cocoon, she had loved him.
Through 2am feeding times and 8pm playtimes, she had loved him.
As his tiny body grew cold, she had loved him.
Even as the light dimmed in his eyes, she prayed and she loved.
Neither had been enough.

A dark wet spot appears on the front of her t-shirt; it is feeding time. A rebellion by her body, a harsh refusal to accept what she cannot change. He's gone. She can almost feel the pull of his mouth as he suckles on her nipple; the weight of him in her arms. She sees him looking up at her with eyes full of wonder and hope. Beautiful blue eyes full of life.

And just like that, he is in her arms again. She's rocking him slowly, singing him a lullaby. The soft whisper of her voice the only sound in the empty room, as she soothes the son that only she can see...

"Hush little baby,
don't say a word,
mommy's gonna buy you a mockingbird..."

Thank you

If I showed you mine, would you show me yours?
You would be my first.
Would I be your last?
Would this be our destination, or just another pitstop on life's journey?

If I showed you mine, would you stay through the night?
Respect me in the light?
Would you kiss me over that scar?
Would your hands soothe the pain?
Or would you turn away from my imperfections, disgusted by the secrets I keep so well hidden?

If I showed you mine, would you still call me beautiful?
Would we carry on today as if it were still yesterday?
Would everything change?
Would nothing stay the same?

If I stripped myself of my vulnerabilities,
bared before you my insecurities,
gave to you what I've given no other,
took you where no man has been...

If I showed you my heart, would you show me yours?

A professor gave his class an assignment, and he stated that the only reason for not finishing it would be if you were sick or a close relative died.

So this guy raises his hand and says, "what about sexual exhaustion?"

The whole class bursts out laughing.

After the laughter dies down, the professor replies, "Maybe you should consider using your other hand."

Thank you

They look but do not see. Barefoot, dirty. Another lost cause on another street.

They hear without listening. Pleas for help blending in with city sounds. Her cries no longer a solo but a part of an everyday symphony.

They judge without knowledge. Born in hell, raised by the devil. Out of sheer desperation, she jumped out of the pan, and into the fire.

They pity without empathy. Her pain is an insult to their existance. Leftover sandwiches tossed hastily at her feet. Good deed done. They can sleep well tonight.

"Nobody loves me. Everybody hates me! Guess I'll go and eat worms."
Nope.