Sentimentality …

Sentimental pieces.

An unsent card –

receipts –

a

dancing ballerina –

memories of moments shared.

I don’t know what to do with them all.

Currently they reside in a neat pile

next to pink leather.

Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like

to be heartless.

Without the inclination to keep happy – Summer windswept bits.

But if I was, would I be the same?

Not likely.

In the place of warmth

a

frosty maiden.

Cool and controlled.

In the next life?

Perhaps …

Pieces of life …

I’ve begun to pack away bits of life

Crystal pretties – ducks and bunnies

Voodoo dolls

Shells with memories

Artwork saturated with sweetness

A pink memory book that holds one finished page

but is littered with notes, receipts and sparkly pieces,

that still wait to be fastened.

Wanting to belong.

Yet somehow knowing they never will.

A dried flower falls softly to the ground – undone from its hidden place..

Books with earmarked pages

all gently wrapped  and placed in green bubbles and brown cardboard.

One soul defined –

and

heart remembered –

stored

but

not forgotten.

A moment in a memory …

It was an airport like any other.

Yet this time so different.

You were –

all I saw

all I felt

all I needed.

We were –

suspended in time and space

between a state of

grace and bliss.

There were not enough minutes in the universe

that evening.

I wanted to –

lean into you

breathe you

know you

feel you.

A  late night rendezvous

in the midst of

sleepy travelers

TSA agents

and

jet fuel.

I never wanted to leave.

Instead, I wished to tenderly press my cheek against your face, forever.

With the hope it would stop the clock.

I turned back and watched you go.

All the while wishing for one more embrace.

Slowly I descended into reality

as you ascended into the sky.

Beauty in a moment and a memory.

Right versus Right …

Is there more than one ‘right way’ to do something?

(I already know the answer but let’s go with this anyway)

I like to be right.

A fact that is somewhat irritating to friends and family.

With the exception of my mother, who believes that she is always right (she’s not).

Which leads me to the above mentioned question.

I have come to the conclusion (an epiphany even)  that there is a ‘right’ way to do something and another way to do it.

Basically I am allowing myself to believe that others should be able to do something their way without it being wrong (even though it is).

Huh.

It seems I am at a bit of a standoff with myself.

Right versus Right (wrong).

The trick is to not care and simply enjoy the differences. Right?

Uh huh.

 

The Pull …

 

 

I’m filled with restless energy today. 

It feels as if I’ve been infused with a sort of alien life force.   Something so unknown and strange. 

It’s as if my mind and body have been saturated with caffeine.  So much so that I swear the smell of coffee beans should seep from my pores.

Have you ever felt as if your soul were desperately trying to tell you something?  That if you’re very still you’ll hear it?

I feel there is an answer hanging in the air and all I have to do is walk through it.  As one would walk through a mist of perfume.

What is the answer?  For it’s not clear. 

 But the feeling is there and it’s time to listen.

Change.

New.

Growth.

Lessons.

Paths.

Soulful pull.

I won’t step around it this time. 

Instead, I intend to fully immerse myself in it.