From Thursday the 12th:

Turn your face toward me,
Find my mouth in the dark.
I let each day evolve.

She falls up into sky blue dreams,
The weight of her crush,
She falls deeper every day,
A lightening of being.

There are two paths she may eventually face
There are three paths that he can embrace.
The world is still for now and they are content?

I keep writing, searching for words. There are many yet not the right ones.
The days pass and I find them but they fade and then the new ones elude me.

Her demons are slain in swift thrusts, they do not own her. Her past dissected and reasoning applied, she tarries no longer. He brings the present alive and the future, she refuses to define.

She longs to touch each scar, especially the one she yearns to make.

I feel a lot like
Turning water into wine
Lead into gold.

If you ever knew that girl, you could see
She lies deeply sleeping, never to be free.
The new one, the new one is real.

And the one person I can trust to give me shit tells me to ride it through.
As if I wasn’t going to already. Love you, M, you’re a doll.

My heart hurts

I kneel before you, not in submission,
I tower over you, not in control.
It is all in mutual benefit.


She walks close, shoulders touching his, reaching for his hand in reassurance. “I understand at least,” she looks away to distance at children playing and dogs running, then up at his face, “Your not wanting to hurt her.” They move on in silence, the words between them. He pulls her closer, but she keeps her distance.