My heart feels raw, chafed against the chill of your absence. The starkness of your truancy pronounced by the warmth it held just a sunset ago. Where have you gone, purveyor of my heart? And why have you not returned? Like a mouthful of sweet honey, I grew fond of each moment we drew near. I’ve spent all day craving its delicate flavor. Long hours … Continue reading Mind full of honey, belly full of poison

Oh, my heart, a siren to good tidings and bad omens. Calling to me all that is virtuous and sinister, at once. How you lead me, in good faith, toward shores I will surely break up upon. I trust your judgement, and still, it is me splayed out upon the rocks. Such a dangerous gamble, allowing someone to serenade your soul. And yet, it’s a … Continue reading The blind spot of the human heart

In times of trouble, I seek warm waters. Forgiving, endearing embraces from gentle aquatic hands. In times in joy, I seek tender breezes. Crisp winds that tantalize my cheeks with caressing fingers. In times of sadness, I seek thundering showers. Dimly lit clouds to blot out the sun and cleansing rains to disperse the Earth. In times of uncertainty, I seek a well light path. … Continue reading Troubled waters

I hear darkness loitering on my front step. The scuttling of leaves down a dim breezeway. I feel its exacting eyes peering in through the cracks in my drapes. My contentedness dampened slightly by its looming presence. The hairs on my arm stand up. It’s near, and it’s waiting for an opportunity of vulnerability to let itself in. But what goes on inside my hallowed … Continue reading Hallowed ground

I buy all of my books and garments secondhand. I want my stories to have stories to tell and my shoes to already have miles in them. By the time they make it to me, my dresses have been on journeys and my books have already seen tears. I’m not precious about anything in life except life itself. I don’t need something to be new, … Continue reading Secondhand seasons

Stellar nurseries, a place once empty and still. But one day, the conditions were just right. Borne out of the darkness, suddenly stars. These perfect little conduits for wishes. These pinpricks we content ourselves to gaze at. We’ll drive miles, to a place where the conditions are just right, to see them in all their glory. Beings of stardust ourselves, our whole vessel is a … Continue reading Stardust to stardust

When I die, I hope the crepe myrtle weeps, and spills its petals upon the ground in the brilliant way it litters the world each Spring. I hope the wind kicks them up, like a despondent child at fallen leaves, and whirls them about in fantastic little cyclones. I hope that the rain falls warm through the midafternoon sun, and coats the exposed shoulders of … Continue reading May the crepe myrtles weep

The gentle tickle of windbound hairs grazing my peach fuzzed ear. That first smell of warm honeysuckle when Spring comes to thaw winter’s tyranny. Golden hour through the leaves of a thousand creek-lined trees. The full body warmth of a hostile red wine takeover in the extremities on a disapproving and cold autumn evening. Little sparks that ignite as the universe rubs up against itself. … Continue reading Little lights

Things will feel right when they are. It’s true of all things. The pear is not soft and sumptuous until ripe and the rain lily won’t bloom in a drought. Good things aren’t meant to be forced. Explorers have learned for too long that the visage of an oasis in the desert is often a delusion of madness and not a reason to press on.  … Continue reading In season

This borrowed breath of mine, so momentary. This borrowed Earth I walk, easily resowed. This big, big world I walk in full saturation, but a stroke in a bigger picture. I have never needed to be important, but still I wonder: what note will this borrowed breath add to a chorus of sounds already so drenched in opacity? I don’t mind being small or meek. … Continue reading But a borrower