Saturday, May 19, 2012

Image via ffffound

Loving her is like the morning dew - not crisp and cold, but refreshing and sweet; drops of candied sugar on each and every blade of grass before me. 

It is like clean sheets on a soft bed for an exhausted body; like the wonderment and possibility of what lies beyond a horizon thick with fog. 

It's like raindrops as the weather breaks, running for cover as we giggle and cling to one another in an effort to stay dry. 

It's like the smoke from burning incense, curling itself around the room and leaving its soft heady scent on all that it touches. 

It's like nothing else. And yet, heavy with warm familiarities and comforts,  loving her is like home. 

image via ffffound

I want you- naked in the morning light, skin soft under my fingers as I stroke your body and watch you sleep.

I want your arms wrapped around me, eyes wet with emotion, heart awash with love.

I want you there, by my side as I laugh and cry and rage, as our happiness carries us long in to the night, as our skin grows pale and thin, as our fingers search for one another in the darkness, as the sunlight sits warm on our faces.

I want you to kiss my forehead when I am ill, to laugh and run and play with me when we are well.

I want to cry in to your chest, weep softly as you pat me and reassure my worried heart.

I want passion- of a love unerring and a body insatiable.

And in return? 

I give you my heart, devoted and true. 

All the love you could ever hope for. 


The stars in the sky, the earth beneath our feet. 

Anything; all of it. 

And me.

The trouble with knowing too much

image via ffffound

Those frivolous, throw away comments- words that cannot be unsaid and thoughts that fester and seethe like an open wound on my soul. 

Perspective is such a worthwhile ally; one whose presence is not felt often enough by me, whose words of caution are ignored in favour of alarming, fearful ideas that creep and hide in the corners of my mind, spreading their insidious tendrils of insecurity and fear until I am paralysed; overcome.

What was said cannot be unsaid, what is known cannot be unknown.

And so I lie here, questioning every one, every thing, every thought uttered, every feeling expressed.
I am aware that I am my own undoing, that I lay myself bare, skin pale and vulnerable, and willing to accept whatever is given.

Those feelings, these ideas, the words you once said, what of them?