Lessons Learned the Hard Way

It nearly killed me, but I had the dream last night.
Somehow my brain decided I was strong enough and it conjured up the images I was so sure would happen. Two happy people taking on forever, together. ...but only in my dreams. Because real life changes. It changes in the most unexpected, awful ways, I've learned. Its so beyond my comprehension the way their love story ended. When it ended initially - years ago, it was tragic, but I never knew it would end on this mortal world the way it did. I guess if I look at it in an eternal perspective - everyone is happy. Everyone has ended up in a beautiful place. One place was chosen, the other place was unexpectedly made home. But I am still left to wonder how things could have changed if a life wasn't cut so short. Reminding myself again it was the plan, all is well. Or it will be.

The Angle of Perfection

You

You are every single form and angle of perfect. Perfect for me, of course. As we lay in bed and your strong hand rests on my thigh, your fingers curling gently around its bends, I am in the most brilliant state of happiness. It's light like people don't know yet how to explain. I should suppose a feeling such as this will never be adequately described. I am in awe of this mist of absolute perfection resting on our chests - rising and falling with sleepy breathing. 

Oh, I love you. Of course, this you know. But I so do. And these quiet moments of silence nothingness and twitching fingers are some of my favorite memories I'll keep forever. I like to believe that when we are old one day, I'll still recall this very heaven right here. As I lay quietly, hoping the dim light of my phone doesn't wake you, I find myself, as I always do, entranced by your heavy breathing. It is melodic, soothing and something I've become so accustomed to. It's what I fall asleep to, it's my sanctuary. My assurance that tonight's rest is safe -- because you are right beside me -- with your hand on my thigh. 

bad marks

it was a sunny, beautiful day full of anxiety and deep breaths that ended abruptly with angry storm clouds - each rain drop a small dagger piercing my once confident heart. with every piece of me, i believed in myself. my personal pep-talks were uplifting and i felt a calm of great proportions. so failure was the last thing i expected. how easily it would be to blame the people around me. i could play the victim. but i'm trying to be some kind of hero. to anyone, even if its not me. it put me in the strangest place. the sharp stings of not being good enough is something i haven't had for so long. i'd almost become accustomed and proud of myself for that achievement. and here i am, now. broken and in the end, a failure.

tomorrow is too similar. my wounds are still fresh and aching. somehow i have to find a way to be strong and upbeat again by the morning. how, though? the confidence i'd built so carefully is dashed. i feel small and quiet. i don't want to test myself, again. i don't want to risk hearing devastation crash through my brain, again. i don't want the feeling of guilt to double in pain because i messed up, again. i don't want to be a sore loser - but i'm tired of being sore.

i'm scared. i'm cautious and the anxiety has tripled and my confidence has hidden itself too well for me to locate. i'm broken down to hope, prayers and tears. i hope those can get me through. i'm trying to act tough for everyone. i'm trying to play it cool without too much sorrow. but right now, only right now, i'll let myself hurt.

my little firefly

hello, again.
you beautiful, tempting little reoccurring thought that keeps me up all night and distant all day. i adore the days you visit me so heavily, but i dread them just as much. you are just so perfect. every angle of your idea fills me with a matronly happiness. but the timing. thats what i cannot figure out just yet.

little firefly. all i can tell you as you settle your lips inside my ears -- someday. of course your invitation of pink powder and blue-lit dreams is accepted. stay with me, push my legs long enough and of course you'll find your way here. and as we both know, i'm not the only one who needs a little shove in the brain. my heart is so big. you're already settled in, i know. i hope you're happy there....until someday.

good morning kisses

droplets of sunshine were spilling effortlessly through the blinds in our basement apartment
my hazy eyes were so far from ready for the day that called me
i silently watched you with a hint of a goofy, sleepy smile on my face
you left the door open a crack as you got ready for the morning
i gazed at your silhouette, totally captivated like i've always been
you came back into our chilled bedroom before you left
big, glossy blue eyes fixing on the target
leaning over and kissing my cheek
the perfect assurance that today would be worth waking up to
and the silent white butterflies haven't left my heart since

A Catch

Give me half a chance. 

One chance

And I promise I'll blow your mind.  

I'm a heck of a catch

A perfect fit to the vacant puzzle

I'm the one you want

And I'll prove it

If you give me a chance. 

Still

I'm so captivated by you, still. Your exquisite personality and one-of-a-kind charm. To think that the best gift to happen to a girl happened to me that day we knelt in white. I'll never stop working to please you. To be every form and function of who you deserve to have hold your hand and squeeze your body for eternity. We are best friends - which is a cliche phrase you say when you're married, but I want to live that and make it so real that the whole world knows it and can feel it when they look at us. As our journey takes us into a world of change and age, I pray we never lose our newlywed spark and this tight-knit friendship and fierce dedication towards each other. I promise I'll do my part to only make it better. Because tonight as I lay beside your sleeping body, your chest rising and falling as you rest in dreamland, I am filled to the brim with a raw, completely real gratitude of who you are and what you do. I'm so captivated, still. 

you know me
the one who won't move
who won't give up holy ground
always beside you, love

Knot

So much is too dark

It was the longest day ever, yesterday

And all I've done is search manically for the light. 

I was happy that blue eyes never fell on my eyes with black bags underneath as I swallowed tears that so many times felt determined to escape my lashes. 

I wouldn't allow it - I just couldn't. 

Not today. 

The pit in my stomach raged like fire 

But as the day passed it became smaller. 

A knot. 

But it tied me up as tightly as it could have in its boney, self-centered fingers. I fell to its grey music too many times. 

All I needed was the usual hero. But that was standing underneath its own rain cloud. Consumed in its own self. 

The amount of loneliness was new and all too terrible. 

So now you see...maybe 

Just how important the light really was. Is. 

And in the end, I found the fragment of it. 

Sunshine

Don't give up, Sunshine. The world has not used you up quite yet. 

If you don't see it, lean on my belief in you until yours is as strong as the muscles that carry your worried body. 

Never apologize to me for your complaints. Don't let those words escape your pretty mouth. 

I'm your wife, it isn't just my job but my privilege. My honor and my joy. I like helping people, too. 

There is something divine in store for you. I promise, Sunshine. Your journey is only in its toddler stages. Just you wait, from dust, comes diamonds. 

Everything is happening to you, to us, in the exact time it was meant to. The exact time He planned for us. 

Each time your dam breaks, He sees you, He feels your pain and He reaches His hand down to hold yours and pat your back. "Don't give up." 

He hasn't given up on you. Never. 

I haven't given up on you, I certainly never will. 

I married you because I love you. Because I saw this amazing, courageous strength in you. Because you made me love myself. Because I knew you'd find a way to provide for me and support me in my endeavors. Because you were my rock from the beginning. Because I needed you - I still do. Because I just knew. 

You've a long line of supporters, ready to cheer you on to the finish line. When you've figured out your dream and you've worked your hardest to get there. We'll all be there. Cheering! And it will happen. 

Don't give up, Sunshine. One day at a time. One step at a time. You'll get there. ...and don't you think I'll let you do it alone.  

eager

my heart is swollen with an eager excitement and anxiety
nothing like i've ever experienced before
you're constantly taking up every centimeter in my brain
opportunities have finally bowed before your diamond eyes
and you look braver
more confident
than i've ever witnessed your soul
i'm proud of you
i'm completely smitten by this side of you
the side that takes chances
the man who leaves it on the floor
willing to accept any path
any answer
any opportunity
i melt into delight thinking you're mine
all this wondfulfullness
mine
the grandest example and the bravest of heroes
my heart is wrapped around you
my brain is captivated in every inch of your being
i'm all yours
for the high times and the low times
always wishing you the highest of highs
the best of the best
everything your genuine soul deserves
i'm rooting for you, love
always on your side

Word Vomit

This blinking cursor has been haunting me, lately. Begging me as I try to sleep, to fill the white space with my souls brainstorm and its every fiber. I neglect these things, too often, I suppose. "Your words will be an instrument to many..." You've no idea how often I hear the old, aged voice repeat that in my head - again, begging my fingers to spill inner musings. I love it, but I feel like I'm too old for it. Doesn't there come an age where you're too mature? Too...'old' to spill in ways like this? ..I'm trying to conform, again, aren't I? Trying to please others instead of caring about what my heart thinks. Old me, old habits. But I'm writing. I'm conjuring up sentences in my mind to fill empty canvas with. I attempt to draw beautiful paintings in your skull, they just seldom make it past my whirlwind-mind. Come around if you care to check on my brooding. I'm sure I'll allow myself a dump of words from time to time.

home

delicate fingertips topple over my back
goosebumps raise over my skin
i'm home
the familiar echo of adoration
floods through my veins
i'm home

Tonight

Two people in one bed. Snuggled so tight - woven so close together that the queen sized bed appears twice its actual size. We are just two small souls on this mattress, aren't we? Angel-eyed children, taking this new ride one thrill at a time. Learning every step of the way that we are not perfect, but we can learn how to get closer to that earthly goal. I'll squeeze you a little tighter against me, tonight. Because tonight I need you that much more. You've already come into my frown and tears and changed them to grins and glossy. But what if I hurt while I sleep? The comfort of waking to your strong arm around my little waist will sing me a second lullaby and love me back to sleep. As you breathe on my back, making my neck sticky with your steam, I will only smile, tonight. Because I need you so much, tonight. 

Hidden Bravery

I'm tired, tonight. You're already asleep. I missed my chance. 

All day the words have been shyly swaying from my lips, but curling in sanctuary under my tongue when you talk to me. I feel like a school girl, again. ..and the well-known heart-throb has taken the time to speak to me. It's such a strange feeling, tonight. 

I wish bravery was my forte. Oh, how it isn't. 

My heart is pounding, love. Wildly, it's eating at me - begging me to confide in you my deepest desire, my urging from above, my angst and my own revelation. It just feels...right. 

I'm positive you'll hear my unpolished words fall out of my trembling mouth and you'll smile. You'll squeeze me tight and wonder what took me so long. I probably will blame it on something other than what it is. Fear. But you're teaching me new shades of bravery. You'll want me to speak. 

And I promise I will. 

Someday. 

floating flowers

it seems the last few days
we've found ourself
barefoot on jagged rocks
with tastes of smoother edges under our feet
but only here and there
the water is cold in this creek
and broken branches rule its course
i'm desperately searching
for the floating flowers
i'm sorry
because surely i am to blame
its okay - i know the truth
and its my newest mission
to scatter our creek with beauty
endless flowers
beautiful scents
happiness in seconds flat
lemon scented lace
elegantly rippling over your feet
my hand holding yours
smiles abounding
that raw happiness we create, flawlessly
what a beautiful thing, right?

Dim

My light is dim. It was splattered with harsh waters and is struggling to regain its once familiar flare. Dim doesn't mean gone, though. Just...bruised. The worst is that I really don't know how to tell the soul who holds me how I feel. Bits and piece of toxic water leading up to this downfall. That's all it is. Then the way we turned our lights out in the night. It didn't feel right at all. You know those evenings that leave you with a sour taste in your mouth, poisoning your stomach? That is exactly how I feel now. I wish I could wake him up and tell him - be able to dissect myself in front of him so he knows every last detail. ..but like I said, my light is dim. My esteem is hidden and he sounds so peaceful when he sleeps. In that current would of his, I don't think he holds any frustrations I gave him before he kissed my forehead, turned away, and slept. So I can't pry his blue eyes open, tonight. Instead I'll lay here sleeplessly. Which is unfortunate considering that when I first went to bed I was exhausted and anxious for dreams and cuddles. But situations change, don't they. Oh, they do. I wonder, now.. Can you make problems arise out of nothing? Is it possible to be perfectly alright and have someone ask you enough if something is wrong -- that eventually something is? Perhaps that was tonight's title. It's all said and done though. He's sleeping. But if I had the courage to wake him, I would tell him I'm sorry. And the main reason for my lame shine is the constant fear of not being good enough - not living up to his wants, needs and desires. He'd never admit it. He'll never say I am below his expectations. But I'd tell him that's how I feel, sometimes. And he'd just have to accept the ache of a woman's heart. I'll be honest, though. I'm not so brave. So I will lay here several hours more until I sleep. And after I wake, I'll pray everything is okay. If its not, maybe I'll tell him. And then I'll put on that smile and it will become so real and the shine will ignite, again. Finally. 

The Film

Craig put his creative talent to work again an made an awesome trailer of our first hike together of the season. 

Watch, and enjoy.

Positivity

I won't pretend like I know everything going on. All I really can do anyway, is try. I am finding joy in it, slowly. I have learned to embrace these imperfections. To love the flaws and learn from and laugh at old mistakes and embarrassments. This worldly-life is too short to regret. In anyway I can, now -- I can see even the smallest rays of yellow sunshine. How lucky am I? I am totally in love with this new life I've been given. It's a breath of fresh air and a hardy serving of positivity, daily. I thank him. Once he found my wandering soul, he gathered me up and took me in and cared for me like I've never been cared for, before. I'm the luckiest. (Have I said that enough, yet?) Then he put sparkles on my left finger and asked if we could care for each other forever. "Yes," was the best, most promising word I've ever said. And it just keeps getting better.

all these grins

i've needed to spill for some time, now. countless times i've sat myself down under my warm blanket with my laptop on my lap and that little cursor blinking at me -- waiting for the gush of words i collect in the shoebox in my heart. but so many times, as i sit there and stare at the boring screen, i lose the train of thought i may have had. nothing comes out. so i shut it down and pretend to sleep until i finally do. its a cycle that today should be broken. ..if i really do post this. backspace is usually easy to hold down, you know.

the more i've dwelt on my life and what i release, i have found that perhaps i'm better at writing and remembering the cruel things. the down days and the sour moments. i don't document the good things nearly enough. thats why writing has been so difficult. i don't know how to accurately describe all these amounts of happiness i possess. but man, if i were sad, i could write a thousand novels.

there just aren't words that can explain how i feel and i can't paint pretty enough imagery.

but you should know, with every fiber of my being - i am happy.

sunday, love.

cream lace and lemon in the air

its sunday morning

trinkets are round about

his tie on straight

music in the silence 

procrastinated lessons being planned

his charming dances

spreading faded pink smiles

across my done-up face

these are the best days

mornings of messy hair

and drowsy eyelids

and afternoons of compliments

hugs and stories

preparing with positivity

and funny faces 

for the week ahead of us

we are quite skilled

we've got this "us" thing down

and its only been five and a half months

and we just keep melting, together

sunbeams

come ride with me

inside golden loops

and marigold splashes

warm and bright

our faith pushing past the nay-sayers

imagine it

the first fingers to touch the sun

and be filled with impeccable energy

the ride

the story of a lifetime

chasing sunbeams until dreams come true

a slow, long blink

theres a calm and no storm in sight
a tea kettle on the stove
with no steam or loud noises
just a calm
floating in the ocean
cuddled under a plethora of blankets
melting into a good book
there is a peaceful silence
bird chirps and sweet piano music
everything lovely
filling the air
this very atmosphere
has enchanted my whole soul
in these footsteps
i am rested

my painting

simply: it isn't always easy. very seldom simple.
its a view. an image you have spent twenty-two years painting. so imagine the frustration of the difficult tasks when told your painting is all wrong. you're a dreadful artist - gloomy and dark. fix it. "fix it." people say it like it isn't the hardest thing in the world. they say it in a way to cause me to believe they have no problems of their own. who are they, anyway? why is my business so fascinating to them and why do they feel the need to bombard me with their cruel opinions and selfish advise? ..i'm putting them deep down in mud. the fact is, i get it, you know? the gloom and gray shades, i get it. i do it, sometimes. but not always. mostly, i'm sunshine and pale blue skies. fluffy white clouds and cheerful robins. but give me a break, this is reality, here. the storm clouds are going to stuff them selves into my small apartment and crowd me with their ever-giving negativity. just give me a moment. hold me while i cry. i'll get it under control - just building the familiar muscle to fight. and one of these days i'm going to win.

girl.

my brow is growing old of its too familiar furrow. the aches are becoming somewhat of a habit and i think my physician would classify this as an unhealthy addiction of gray clouds and sweat pants. but what am i to do? it isn't like i can pull magic powers from the pocket across my loud stomach in my hoodie and change my very DNA. its unheard of, unfortunately. i'm only me. mortal as you - i can't change it. so i am finding my unstable smile and frown forced to deal with it. i believe they call it reality. living. whatever. it wouldn't be so difficult if i didn't have someone who cared more about myself that i do. (he is ever so wonderful). i almost hate watching him watch me as i writhe inside myself but paste a faulty smile on my pink lips. he knows. he sees right through any action that isn't me. he understands its part of me, but i can easily decipher him. deep in his big heart, he wishes he could take it from me. steal my burden and my cramping muscle. he wants me to be at peace. but thats only what magnificently happens in fairy-tales. like i said, this is reality. its real life. no fairy godmothers, here. what a drag. the worst part about it is as i waste away on this leather couch snuggled in turquoise heaven, my mood attacks his. he becomes as sallow as i am. his feet drag behind mine and his smiles become limited. all i can bear to think as i watch the dark gloom take him over is: thats my fault. all he deserves is to be happy and i've ridden him of his right. how dare i? so i furrow my brow, again. there should be a way to fix this. but i can't find it. maybe tomorrow evening i'll find the light ground and can mend my broken atmosphere.

the rare kind

i smell like a home cooked meal straight out of my mother-in-laws kitchen. its a smell that intoxicates you with warmth and memories of laughter and a new addition to the family you've always had. as i  lay here in my gray bed, i am finding that my limbs are exhausted and my brain is slowing. my heart rate is rested and night owls - the rare kind that sleep - are beckoning for my companionship. its quaint. but my lover isn't yet in bed so my eyes cannot rest until i've snuggled him into his twitching sleep coma. for being a day of rest, i always feel so warn of exertion at the end of this day. its funny how little things like that pan out over the weeks.

tired, overslept eyes
wake to an unknown sunday afternoon
last night felt like warm wind
and these sheets are too sweaty, now
he'll fall out of bed first
always more chipper than i can be
i wait for minutes to melt by
then unwillingly cover myself in water
its time to wake up, after all

clouds

a mess of sheets. piles of pillows. the melodic crinkle of fabric settling over skin, bones and muscle. one entirely exhausted appearing man. a young soul who deserves the comfort of endless feathers and cradling blankets, offering only the best form of joy and rest. the man under the covers sleeps soundly, but always aware of what surrounds the things he loves. the hardest working human the earth became privileged enough to hold as he made the most of his every day. what a steady clock, he is. an example to the rest of Gods children. a hero to many. a husband to one lucky soul. he cozies up to another fluff of softness and inhales so deeply. good morning, love. sleep as long as you'd like.

thick liner and pressed flowers

i feel as if i should go back to what i consider my "roots" when it comes to spilling my soul onto pages or spilling it through scattered, frantic fingertips. i've strayed too far. tried too hard to conform. that has never been my style, just inquire of my educators as i grew up. i'll be me, thanks. old pictures. forced visions. description in a way i call just. the style i so desire - the things that i love. only a new chapter. time away has altered only small pieces. insignificant to you, greatly important to me. you know, the kind of writing that reminds you of classic red lipstick, thick black liner, pressed flowers and old, dusted novels. the comfort-food lyrical words. me.

Grassy Haven

I'm stuck in the middle. Trapped between being fair - being liked and doing what I feel is right - or what I want to be right. So how do you choose which side to take? Which field of grass do you jump into while you're teetering on top of the fence you find yourself on, so often? Which side do you justify? Which field is the right one? How do you find out - and be completely sure of - which choice is the one you should grasp? I just need some stability under my feet. A grassy haven, no more wooden splinters. So I keep on praying - my answer is due in the warmer months, anyway.