Back in

I lost myself within myself.

Stuffed that amazing 22-year-old

with the world at her feet

into a prison of my own design.

Closed off all the exits.

Stuffed my eyes with books and tv,

shoved smoke in my mouth

and noise in my ears.

Maybe if she can’t sense what

I’m doing,

she will just learn to love

her prison.

I keep throwing new things

down to her, to keep her occupied.

Past the throat that only closes

goes sadness and guilt

and a lock of self-worth

all rolled up into a

black hairball of despair

for her to play with;

dwell on.

Make it so big she can’t get past it.

Swallow more anger

swallow more disappointment

swallow it all down

to weigh upon her chest.

I’m running out of room

to hold it all in.

She’s finding ways to get around me.

She’s leaking out of my pen.

Tells me to force a hook

down into that one-way throat.

She wants to grab the other

end so she can tell me to pull.

Rip out the darkness, the sadness,

the guilt and the anger,

tear out the throat

so a voice can fit out.

Spread my arms out to the heavens,

raise my mouth up in a scream.

It’s going to hurt

worse than anything

to pry open my eyes

and clear out my ears.

But I can’t stay this way

any longer.

She wants to get out.

She deserves to get out.

And once that space is empty,

there won’t be any problems

for the light to find it’s way

back in.

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Without Words

Ok, this is just a bit out of my comfort zone, but I’m gonna get over myself and pull on my big girl panties and post it anyway.  It’s another HH drabble from back in the day.  But there’s no shame in my game, because she still makes me feel this way, 8 years later.  This is the one I was talking about in the Words post.  I didn’t end up asking her if I could post it.  I’m just gonna hope that she won’t be mad that I wanted to tell the world what she does to me.  Ok, I’m gonna go hide now.

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I’ve just found the proper pen to convey what I need to say.  There’s just a certain something about the way you look at me just then.  A certain something that I cannot place, yet drives me mad.  My handwriting even feels sexier somehow, just thinking about it.  And you’re not even near but I can feel you.  I feel you melt the rest of the world away so quickly.  Your breath floods my senses.  They perceive nothing outside your body.  They have forgotten anything else exists at all.  And I love when your eyes devour me, from across the room.  Like the first night I wore that slinky blue thing, I was so much more nervous than I seemed.  But your eyes calmed me.  So intense.  I had to look away.  Then your shy and quiet grin, as if to ask, “For me?”  Your touch then, even through the silk, was electric.  It sent your current all through me.  The second you touch me, I want you.  And my body knows it.  My awareness of being watched lets me know that you notice.  You notice everything.  My breathing, my movements, how I hold you, how I grab you, how I dig my fingers in your back.  How could you not notice?  Then the torrential downpour of kisses, leaving me breathless and swimming in the puddle of myself.  My neck prickles with even your slightest breath.  And though I’d never say it, I love the torture of it.  To feel myself writhe to escape you and your grip tighten to entrap me further.  I could never stop you.  Or perhaps I just wouldn’t.  And I love when I feel you want me just as bad.  That my body is the only glove suitable for your lovely hand to wear.  Sometimes I see the look in your eyes that tells me you wait, simply to hear me ask and breathe “Please”.  The wicked grin that ensues is maddening.  I feed half off your actions and half off your reactions.  I cannot take my eyes off you.  I feel your hands on my legs, the back of my thighs, slowly.  As you take in the view, I wait for you.  Then there is the something.  The something that makes me mistake your name for God’s and I shake, hold you with all that I have left.  And your devilish smile, not letting me go.  I can’t even see your lips, but I know it’s there.  And the sweet kiss that comes after, as I hold your face, look into your eyes and tell you I love you, without words.

A little more leakage

Today I share 3 poems/writings from the very beginning of my relationship with HH.  I will only preface this by saying that HH and I had a tough beginning, as we started out as friends and were both with other people.  We made some stupid decisions back then, and hurt others and ourselves in the process.  I regret the hurt we caused, but I will never regret the outcome.

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1/20/02 – 4:26am

The light seems to have

    lost itself in you.

Your eyes,

    your hair,

        your smile.

It reflects off of everything

    and back to you.

It cannot escape your grasp.

    Like me,

       in a way.

I keep bouncing off,

    yet finding myself returning to you.

Like a boomerang,

    I throw myself away

       and return every time

    like I don’t know how

       to do anything else.

And I don’t know if I

    should,

        but I’m inexplicably drawn.

The light is definitely lost in you.

    Perhaps it is that light,

       in you,

           that I search for.

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I walked around in the supermarket,

    aimlessly,

        for an hour,

    wondering what you would want

         if I cooked you dinner,

    in our house,

        somewhere in the future.

Or if I wrote a song,

     what words you would

          want it to have.

I don’t know anything about you,

     but I know enough.

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11/15/02

You sleep here,

    cocooned in my bed,

       so peacefully

    as I watch you.

And I am content

     just to hear you breathe.

I want to kiss

    where your hair

       meets your neck

    but I do not.

I do not want to disturb you.

    My love.

Love is admiring from afar

    for now,

       knowing that when you wake,

     it will be in my arms.

2 in 1 day?!?!?! But I couldn’t resist…

Found this one and it simply cracked me up because I can remember this exactly. Written 3/30/99 at 9:59pm. (I was very precise back then with the dates and times, but I’m pretty glad of it now.)

In my rear view mirror
I saw a man use his
reflection in a piece of
glass at the bank to
replace his combover
where he wanted
it after the wind
had blown it
awry.
And I wondered, silently to myself if he
silently wondered and hoped to himself that
no one had seen him. I feel for him. His
combover secret is safe with me.

My teenage brain leaks out

Ok, so recently, my good friend Mamasoo posted a poem and admitted to me that it was probably only the second poem she’d ever written. Well, this simply blew my mind, due to the fact that between the ages of 16 to 22, I had a writing book on my person at all times, in which to write my brains out. So this prompted me to go home and dig these out of my bookcases. Imagine my surprise when I realized that I’ve authored 3 full books of original works! Some were just rambles, some really early ones were rhyming ones and most were simply my own little brand of poems. So, I’ve decided I’m going to periodically post some of these, to get a glimpse into the person I was, and how she came to be the person I am.
This is the first one. It was written on 12/8/98.

According to you…

I rode my golden chariot
into the center of your life
With flowers embedded in my hair
and the greenest emeralds in my eyes.
I brought the purest light with me
and left it upon everything I passed.
I look around my grim surroundings
at the dark figures huddled
in the corner.
I peer into the blackness
that is only stained darker
by the rain
and try to make out a face.
I catch a movement in the
corner of my eye.
I turn quickly to see you,
afraid, cowering from me.
My gaze softens
and I beckon you to me.
I take your soiled face in my hands
and look.
Look through to your soul.
I see your anger and the darkness
that lives in you.
And I see the fear that you have
of being consumed by it.
I choose to save you
from the toils of this world.
I take you up into my chariot
and slowly bring my lips to yours.
You back away, at first,
not wanting to dirty me.
But I pull you closer,
force your arms around me,
sullying my white garb.
You run your hands through my hair,
and push the flowers to the floor,
like heavy bricks from a building.
Run your fingers across my face,
leaving muddy streaks as you go.
Yet I long to kiss you,
to know your taste.
So I lower your face to mine,
and take what I want.
I feel your lips, your tongue,
your hands on my back
and I love you.
And I wonder how you existed
here for so long,
how no one came before me,
to keep you for themselves.
And I think to myself,
as I memorize your smell,
that according to you,
I was the light.
But when you ask me,
it was I who was saved.