Under the stars, sitting on the back steps. Listening to every word you speak. The laugh I adore. Taking my hand, you lead me. I follow, I always follow. The kiss, it burns inside me. The bed I become alive in with you. Nights, your nights, I want as many of them as possible. I want to be the only one you hold in those arms. The one who traces the scars on you. Our masks left at the door. Everything we already are and what neither of us say.
Category: Uncategorized
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The Art of Unmasking Numbness
It isn’t easy seeing others drown in their darkness.
The ones the drink to numb.
The ones that hide in substances.
The truth is there are so many ways to avoid sitting with yourself.
The gym, if it’s a place to build the physical instead of fueling the body as a whole.
Deprivation of rest is another form of avoiding.
A society where being truthful with all the things we wish to hide is consistent the norm.
Solitude was once my way to hide.
It transformed, becoming my training ground of mastering my vast array of emotions. They place I allow authenticity to overcome. Removing the shame of how deeply things have a hold on me. I changed the game of addiction and became addicted to being myself. I found a way to love in a world that would rather stay numb.
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Love’s Beauty & Brutality
Nothing is more beautiful and scary than love. The thought of the loss of people you love is the biggest heart break in human existence. Animals that mate for life just walk through life alone after their lose their loves. A child losing their parents shakes their core, makes them question who they are or where they belong. Losing a child, unbearable to find beauty after the devastation in this world. Losing the person your soul screams for, well I can’t fathom anything could ever reach you the same way. You feel half alive without them. Love the greatest of all life has to offer. It is also the thing that shatters you more than anything in this world. It is brave to find beauty around you and keep your heart alive when you don’t feel whole.
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Bleeding Ink
The bleeding little girl in me and the artist want to freely express what I went through. My manuscript witness to my story of survival. A way to make the pain mean something. The paradox of it is bleeding in front of people. I only want strangers to know they can live with a torn soul. I want him to see all of me because I trust him to hold me if I shakey. My protector, my witness, my always. The call I can make. The arms that give me safety and rest. Bleeding out in front of those that feel like they are picking at my scars to see of I will curl back up and die terrify me. Can I stay when my mind won’t turn off? Can anyone? Loss so much loss. Tears, safer alone. I am use to that. I know I can survive. I have my entire existence. Solitude my peace, my sanctuary, my place to bleed safely. All I want is to not be there alone.
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Wounded & Witnessed : Always
When the wound is so deep, what do you even do?
My formatable years 11-14 loss was the theme. I lost my grandfather. I saw this man whom loved me every single day and he was gone. My mother left. I came home from school one day and she was just gone. My family never the same. My little sister, older brother, and I never to live in the same space again. I lost my pack. Friends forced to have me around more due to the situation, they grew resentful. They didn’t want me there and in truth I didn’t want to be around actual families. I had lost mine. Finally, my grandmother lost her battle 3 years after her husband.My entire life wiped out. I was rapped in those years, an easy target I suppose for predators. Loss all I know is loss. So how do I truly heal from abandonment fully when I must guard at some level?Then he came along and gave me a place to let myself heal. Guiding me. Small ways. Making sure I knew it wasn’t my fault. Never trying to fix it just letting me say it. Giving it space to land. Making sure I skipped certain episodes of shows so I wouldn’t be triggered. Music, something so deep in my soul. He walked in my lyrical world like he owned it. Deepening our bond. Care, great care of my wounds wrapped in quiet gestures. Not unseen. Noticed. I was allowed to be angry, encouraged even. Relief. Appreciation. Friendship forged. My Lover, the only one I was able to freely give myself too. No one has ever had me like him. He carried me in ways that may have seemed insignificant to others but were everything I needed to come back to life. His presence all I have ever needed, and what I’m terrified of losing the most. A world without him would devastate my entire existence. I saved me but he held space for me to do it. He is my Always, in my heart, for he witnessed me.
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Lyrical Rythemic Trance
Music is the absolute most influential part of my existence.
I feel it in every part of my being.
Movement and letting it take over.
This lyrical rythemic trance that I simply can’t help but fall into. My soul just screams dance Sue Ellen dance through life. Let it go and let your body be free. Let your feelings pour out and wash all over you.
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I Exist
Does anyone worry about losing me?
Do thoughts of a life without my presence ever creep in?
Does that ache exist?
The fear my laughter will become a ghost’s Echo.
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Distorted Compartments
Sadly while you were adding little pieces of value to the compartment you placed her in, slowly she was decreasing the amount of feeling she could authentically give you.
You see as she was ‘earning a place over time’ you were losing to her self respect.
You can’t shelf a woman.
It just doesn’t work.
The original version dies off.
Your methods becoming the thing that distorts her view of you. Numbness sets in.
It’s cold kiss of death has begun the process of the loss you can’t see. You may begin to love as she has grieved the death alone.
Silence.
Loud silence that echoed different stories to you both.
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Let The Rain Pour Down
The rain on my skin, it reminded me I was alive.
I wanted to go twirl in a field.
Dance like a fool and let it soak me. I walked slow in it. Lifted my head to the sky and just took a deep breath. I sang my music and let it transport me into my world.
Cool air.
Rain pouring on me.
I felt.
I was alive.
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My Greatest Gift, Being Your Mother
As Mother’s Day approaches, I think of being your mama.
I think of watching you grow.
Of how the hardest moments carved the deepest places in my heart.
I miss the cuddles. I miss the baking. I miss your small bodies fitting perfectly against mine.
I think of sleepless nights — walking, rocking, praying.
Nights I kiss now, because I know what they made.
I remember the fears. The tears. What if. What may happen.
And I watch them turn into joy and pride as you achieve.
I remember small voices, small laughter.
Now I watch you four on Christmas Eve, telling stories, laughing until tears of happiness fall.
You love. You fight. You come home to each other.
The bond of siblings — it’s there. It’s real. It’s my greatest relief.
Love. The legacy of love I got to give you.
That was the gift.
Not what I did for you, but that I got to love you.
I got to be your mother.
And for that, I will forever cherish it.
Always
Ink Stained Soul... 