Blankets and Boxes

I am not your puzzle to put together. I will not fit your form. I am an undulating storm. I will gather my skirts like billowing gusts of winters; air, I will bite at your cheeks. I will leave you begging for blankets, twisting in my sheets.

If you have need of order, find another.

I am done with boxes, locks, and ties. I will love you. Hard. Completely. Discreetly. Without shame.

I do not take your heart for granted. I will not consume you, as others would have done to you. I will expect you to run wild and free. And when you need to be held, my hands are open. Always open. Accepting.

My eyes will take drunken, lasting gazes over you. These eyes, they burn with passion.

I am too wise for what is the latest gossip, or your notions of fashion.

I have grown too large for the small minded places you will put me. I am not your mother, daughter, whore. I will break the glass at the ceiling and refuse to sweep the floor.

What is more?

I will define my success as happiness. As my own. As a birthright devined to me by my mere existence.

I will determine myself worthy. You don’t get a vote anymore. Your opinion of me, is ugly.

I am done caring what you think. I will drink in the nectar from the vine. I will call this victory

I will call me… Mine.

. Woman Silhouette Waiting For Summer Sun

What is lost can be found

The heart of a complicated and mostly kind man¬†broke- and the damn earth still moved on without it.. a few well wishers called to say “so sorry” and, , ” how can we help” ?

For him something great, and precious, and nearly perfect is lost-

And the world didn’t stop spinning, the breeze blew the way it wanted to.

And I found you. I found you in the corner holding flowers wearing a sheepish grin.

I found a place my hand didn’t just interlope.. it fit right in, Right in the place it belonged.

I know it because it is familiar. His hand, much BETTER than my own