Taste like summer rain & poetry

Days like this hold that longing feeling, that ache to fucking feel it again. A summers rain, drenching your soul, echoing across your skin, whispering do you feel me now. Washing away the illusions of that perfect girl to unearth the darker side of her. A flame that eases in, touching the most sensitive areas of your skin, burning away the ink she swore she would never wear again. Yet she aches and screams from the soul, feed me all those thoughts the rain uncovered as she tears at your flesh to reveal the sweet dark ink that bleeds in words. The taste of those syllables on the edge of her tongue wanting to be tasted, to be devoured to be fucking felt. In those hidden places she calls her ribcage where ivory memories snap back into existence forcing her to purge until she’s wear nothing at all. Summer rain washed skin bare & wild, where she lost control and allowed her soul to spill.

#prose #poetry

We are forever falling in love with moments, as we should. Too many people say, I just can’t wait to be happy as if it were a place or something physical you could grab hold of. Little do they understand that it is a moment, a feeling, a forever snapshot you take for your heart so your soul can remember what it felt like in the moment. Happy, forever fleeting and slipping through fingers as if she were a rain storm driving her touch through your skin , to soak and drench every fucking inhibition you ever ached for. She comes in waves, people, in nature in touch, specific words you swore you would never hear. She leaves her mark on your mouth, a smile, a tear for your cheek, an ache of your bones where everything that every touched you in a way to bring sadness is washed away way. She a moment, she is me and I am her. A moment simply bleeding through.

#poetry #ink #spill

This January heart holds every curse of winters touch. She brings me to these hollow knees in salvation while drinking from the cedar creek, that keeps me numb. Forever grasping for the light but never to find the touch that sets these winter bones ablaze. She keeps me cold & reserved as if I’m piling kindling beneath my ribs, so I can douse her in kerosene tears and burn it all to the ground. As if covering my soul in ash & memory could somehow revive what was lost so long ago. I still reach for matches hoping one day the burn will ease the scars. You can’t plant forget me knots in soil that refused to thaw. Not can you escape the brazen whisper of what if at the end of the day.

#prose #poetry

Will you hold my hand while the world spills out of me, would you plant the decaying petals of yesterday beneath the soles of my feet. I could water them in salt stained memories & watch the life I wanted to grow to be something more than a selfish miracle. Would you tie up my hair while the emotions slipped out of my eyes coloring my everyday in burnt crimson autumn leaves, the ones that hold their color until winter steals her last shade of breath. Do you promise to haunt the hollow echoes of my rib cage & light a fire that refuses to die beside my burns of a sun drenched daydream. Could you possibly dig another hole to keep my secrets safe, tucked among the moss & pine while I drink from cold creek waters or wash my dirty soul in the shallows where the mountains hold the remains of everything I tried to drown. Would love taste as sweet as the promises we made all those years ago to never let go or hold back before you forgot to grab hold of wrists that felt the burn of your lips & my blood never felt the same. Those are the days that keep me bound in stitches the ones I placed into my flesh with two shaky hands & the promise to come back & allow them to flow from me. These memories of yesterdays, tomorrow’s & some days.

Mahogany ink still forces its way through every fiber of my existence, it forces me to spill my every thought into existence. Writing is not for those who have something to hide, you can place words on paper but it does not give you the fucking feeling of the moment, it does not express the ache as it pours out of your veins until they are translucent and their is nothing left of you to give. Until the ache is written in breaths & heartbeats & everything you could not force your mouth to say. Writing is living where most people decide to hide from their truths because they live in fear of what someone else may think. Fuck what you think! You are that person that drenches the soul in emotions coiled so damn tight they could burst your heart if you hold out any longer. Your release is your exhale and it should be a beautiful fucking mess. Those are the pieces of yourself you tuck behind your soul when the wind catches your harmony just the right way. We lock up the darkest parts of our existence to quiet a voice so loud the trees could be heard screaming, just fucking breathe. This is me breathing, screaming at the paper until my heart stops breaking apart my chest. I refuse to exist in a world where I cannot spill my guts & have the paper hold them once upon time like my mother.

#prose #poetry

Three years since I allowed the darkest parts of me to slip from these bitten lips and etch the paper I craved to touch. I killed her off, I buried that version of me buried deep inside this ivory cage of regret. I snapped every rib of who she was, reliving the pain of winter white delicate ivory and shoved handfuls of dreams, love & wildflowers that would never seek the light of day. She is too dark for this life, too damned to ever get it right. Balled fists as she sleeps & blood stained lips as she fights to contain that version of me. Yet she slips out of cracks she could not quite mend, the deepest of scars that refuse to close. She bleeds & then weeps for the life she buried among the withering pine, hoping one day she will have the courage to bring a shovel & dig up the remains of that tragically touched soul. She aches for touch other than the sun & licks her lips never to be undone. All that remains are twisted emotions caught in my throat & the urge to let them weep from me. The paper never judged me and the ink allowed me to breathe enough to not end her completely. Yet I still I find pieces of her scattered among these mountains that her heart finally calls home. 

October takes her first deep breath & exhales autumns brazen kiss. She sets the earth on fire with ember leaves marked by decay as winter crawls along her spine releasing a years decay, but not before she marks the earth’s soul with deep colors of a life once lived, fucking beautifully. Everything you ever loved in green and hours of sage will deepen & darken to amethyst & ruby scars traced among the ivory bone of birch. She will whisper against your cheek as her cold fingers pull tendrils out of hair allowing your summer soul to escape on her gentle winds. Chapping your lips once bitten as the sun scorched your golden dipped skin. You will inhale & hold her tight between the breaths of forgotten autumns, digging up the dreams you planted the lifetime of springs before. Your eyes will force close as you feel the exhale in places you have forgotten to touch with gentle fingers & the darkest of desires. The echo of a life once lived before the pounding rains drenched your ambitions and solstice spoke your name. You will leave your heartbeat & initials carved into the flesh of that old oak tree just the same as you left your fucking love scarred all over me. I will not dream of days where you and I still meet beneath the goldenrod & yellow sunsets etched our fates, but I will always remember the way you made me feel when the moon rose & the sun slipped away, where my name slipped off your sun kissed mouth like a fucking prayer.