Longing to be a Writer,
a wordsmith of the spirit,
the possibility within my soul,
can I see the ability to really do it.
Aching to grow to become more,
yet so afraid to open my door,
Others will see and make their choice,
Whether or not to hear my voice.

I have always categorized my life and my memories into the seasons.
Remember that one summer when...
Remember that winter we…
I'll never forget that Spring when you…

But what about the in-between?
Those few days where you find yourself treading on the green-gold line? Those are the very best.

you dreamt of better days,
   while all the nightmares haunted you.
you kept the hope alive,
    the hope that god hears the screams,
     the screams that escape you every night.
hoping that the day dreams you have could one day
        become a reality.
but your nightmares always haunted you,
     and this is why your hopes died,
      this why they fled from you.

‘I don’t trust you anymore,’ I said.
It was playful, as it resulted from a humorous exchange of kisses
in which I was seduced and then kissed in such a way that provoked a cringe.
I was feigning frustration as I giggled, as I had been fooled once again.

Though, when I said that, he let out a little whimper.
The implication of what I just uttered, had it been sincere, was momentous.
At the same moment, we both knew.
‘Oh baby that’s not what I meant, I trust you with my everything, just not kisses right now.’ (laughing)
He then kissed me deeply, and things went quiet again.
Running through my mind, constantly –
‘I trust you with kisses too.’

Trust is a fickle thing.
Twigs fallen from trees look quite elegant until you snap them in half and try to put them together again.
A spine can recover from being broken, but not without suffering.
I suppose I don’t really understand at this point –
I have never had half of a broken twig in my hand,
and I have never had the feeling of spinelessness that must come with losing who held me up.
I have never had those kind of tears in my eyes.
I hope I never do.

Most sticks get stepped on in the end,
and that is why I am afraid.
I cherish so greatly our moments intertwined,
laying in my bed,
laying on the couch,
sitting in a classroom.
My body is still my body, and your body yours,
but sharing mine with you and having yours shared with me
is when my body feels comfortable on this earth.

I got in my bed tonight, and I took off my bra.
It was done up in a way I would not have done it up.
I keep it tight, tight enough to leave imprints in my skin.
‘The tightest setting,’ I always tell him.
Tonight I didn’t remind him, and I discovered it to be on the loosest setting.
Intentional or unintentional,
I felt love when I took it off.

1. His hands travelled over my back, reaching for the edges of my bra that he had undone.
       I was comfortable without knowledge of my clothing’s organization.
2. He was fumbling in the dark, and his fingers landed on the clasps keeping my bra loose.
       I’m not sure if he’s tired of seeing marks on my skin
       or if he just unconsciously assumed it shouldn’t be too tight.
       Or maybe it signified nothing at all,
       and I just am always finding new ways to love him.
3. Tonight I feel him all over me.
       Hands on my skin, words in my head.
       The lullabies that the movement of his body sings and the beauty that grows with every word he speaks
       are overwhelming the whispers of sadness and anxiety within me.
       His love drowns the negativity out of my soul tonight.

I’m not sure of anything.
Whatever trust is, I don’t think I could define.
I only know we have it.

I closed my eyes.
Felt the warmth of the sun on my face.
All the grief and pain
Was simply too hard to erase.

I could smell the ocean in the air.
I opened my eyes only to see you far off in the distance.
I knew it was you there.

I called out your name
As I ran to you.
My prayers had been answered.
It was all too good to be true.

Beautiful as always
You smiled and held me so near.
This moment was happening
It was all perfectly clear.

You laughed and said
"I'm happy you're here. Welcome to my beach in the sky,
But you can't stay forever."
As a big sister always knows why.

"You see there is a little place at my beach in the sky.
It's called Heaven and that's where I live.
I am happy and content
And have no one else to forgive."

"I dance in the sun and play in the waves.
I collect seashells as I watch the sunrise and set
All of my days".

"I know no more hate, sorrow or grief.
I only know love and peace.
And I stand firmly with my God on that belief."

"You have not yet learned what it takes.
You can't be with me on my beach in the sky.
Just because you think you have faith
You still have not learned why."

"Go back to your world and do what you can.
Be kind and gentle to each and every man.
Have a compassionate heart.
Remember my words as we now must part."

"Little things matter.
Be the best you can be.
Take great care with others
As you would a seashell at sea.
Be helpful, be strong
And never ask why.
That's all it takes
To reach my beach in the sky."

I opened my eyes
And felt the mean Spring Winter cold.
It was all an illusion
Everything I had just been told.

The snow flurries fell.
I was not on a beach
But was back in my hell.
It could have all been a dream
Until I looked down
And discovered a seashell.

Jackie Bush Holcomb

if loving her was supposed to be easy,
  then maybe she wouldn't resemble art.
because she was like a painting placed in a gallery,
   a painting hidden behind the beautiful sculptures.
everyone always admired her from afar,
   attention focused on the beauty that is easy to see.
no one ever got close enough,
close enough to see the beauty behind her madness.

speak gently of yourself
the same way you would
speak
of
someone you love.
let love echo in all the words you say about
your self.
                  
                             - self love