Markers
A smile that leaves you wounded, you say
What about the mark you left inside my mind that
shades every expression and tints each sparkle?
Such markers, you left behind.
A smile that leaves you wounded, you say
What about the mark you left inside my mind that
shades every expression and tints each sparkle?
Such markers, you left behind.
Love does arrive, neatly packaged. It grows in mud that stains. Sometimes it poisons your being. Still, I keep it watered and nourished. Because, have you see the flowers?
“Does it get better?” she asks. She thinks because I’m older, I’ll also be wiser. Can I give her an honest answer?
You tell me this is what it means to loveYou say that is love, this is lovingYou point me to poetryas a dictionary for the love languageAnd therapy terminologyto dissect this feeling These my friend,are conversations about love,Not love itself(And note, that I call you ‘friend’,not ‘my love’)Because I’ve read…
What’s courage like?It’s like walking to the very edge of the cliffStraight into the skyAnd not stopping. What’s determination like?It’s like standing completely perpendicular to the groundShoulders back, eyes level with what’s comingTill all motion, even breathing stops…but standing still. What’s toughness like?It’s like feeling heat turn ever so slowly…
A love poem in pieces of my heart and pages from my journal.
I hope the whirling never ends. Then I remember, nothing is endless.