Your Kind of Love

You embrace, as if the word has never done you harm. Your heart remains open even when faced with iron walls.

Your warmth seeps from you to the ungrateful. You shiver, and they turn away, and you smile in understanding.

It is your kind of love that keeps the world spinning.

—-

Reflections on some of the amazing women in my family.

Morning Commute

It’s a slow dispersal, like raindrops down a window pane. Pausing, as if in thought. Joining and branching, then disappearing.

Scattered, like a rain that grows with sleepy reluctance.

Then a rush, the storm that finally thunders its presence. Winds and howls that stop you in your tracks, and clouds that impede your journey.

Every morning, a yawning procession.

—-

Morning thoughts on the bus ride to work. 

Reflection

He looked up and saw a man staring back. He smiled a weary smile, and it was returned, full of understanding.

They turned, each choosing a chair. Together they faced the setting sun, so very alone.

—-

I saw a man but I thought there were two. He sat with only his reflection for company. Was he lonely? I wondered as I, myself, sat alone and stared out the window.

Canvas

Whisper sweet words upon your blank canvas. Fill it with the colours of your thoughts.

Speak with broad strokes of life, sharp, angular, with sweet trailing ends that flutter towards the edge.

Mist a perfume of melodies, gold and silver, to harmonize in twining waves, origins and eternity.

Place it on your wall, display it for others to see, share the warmth of life that emanates from the core of your heart.

—-

Processes, purposes, and all the canvases we have created.

Potential

We met twice in that moment.

Once as our eyes registered. Twice as our souls resonated in waves that we could not, at the time, comprehend.

It was only as we walked away, lonely souls forever lost in the crowds, that we realized what we had missed.

Do you sometimes wonder what would have happened if you had stopped to say hi?

Choice

The words freeze throat as you speak. Tears gather at the pain. But you force them out and hope they will take with them the torment you feel.

Words gather, and your stomach clenches around them. Tries. It tries to contain them. To keep the darkness from being released. From corrupting the life it touches once released into the air.

But neither do you want them inside you, festering, rotting you from within.

You scream, torn, agonized, the decision waiting with a smile as cruel as the words you have formed.

—-

Being sick has completely thrown me off course. I missed my usual Wednesday post, and I’ve barely been active the past few days. I apologize if I was late in replying to your messages. And if I missed it completely, I’m deeply sorry! I do my best to reply to each and every one of your comments! I appreciate the time you took to share your words!

I Bought Love

I bought love. It was old and used. Haggard after passing through careless hands.

It cost me 4.99 and there was no guarantee it would last. Perhaps it would simply be a fling. Or a one night stand. One time enough.

As I flipped the cover, I relaxed into my seat. I let my heart read through my eyes. And deeper and deeper I fell in love with what I could see on every page.

I bought love. And the love was strong. To this day it remains close, patiently waiting for my attention as it sits on my shelf. And every once in a while I pick it up with a smile. Smooth it with my hands. And open my heart.

Thief

 

There’s a darkness in this room now. The taint spreads from the corner. The window through which you violated my sanctuary. You oozed your way in, desperate, thieving.

You snatched memories from my shelves, cruel in your careless swipes and disregard. Your selfish desire.

You linger even after you sprint away from the crime. Your greedy hands pilfer the happiness from my mind. I can feel you staring, a faceless shadow.

—-

You don’t realize how much of a violation it is until it’s your home that’s broken into. It was only amazing support from family and friends that got me out of the strange funk I was in after it happened. 

But if he was so desperate to break into a house and steal, then he must be at a low point in his life. 

The sentimental value was the hardest blow. Items I can always replace. 

But his actions will follow him for the rest of his life. And with these thoughts, the anger drains. And all I can do now is hope that he finds a better path.

The Scent of Books

A black vanilla ink upon musky pages. Suitable for all. A perfume to stimulate the heart and mind.

The initial scent of salty tears fades gracefully into whispers of a freshly healed heart. The dark odour of pain and sorrow is harmonized by the spice of anger that bursts from gleaming swords.

To soften it, wafts of sweet smiles and honeyed laughs.

And finally a top note of hope that soars with each page turn, released with a crinkling sigh.