either way, we’ve all learned
and it’s been a year.
Saffron and Amber reveal their dress,
I sit and wonder how it’s possible, Winter,
how beauty presents as a mess, yet is defined by the eye.
Dirt needs its rest, leave the weeds, even
a fixed tin roof allows for dry, so
let nature grow – haphazardly.
Disrobe the world, let them be,
focused on how to heal.
Honestly? He didn’t really need me.
Our minds are consumed
with a legion of details.
Where to begin deemed
obvious by most,
if you could feel the pulse;
a quickened heartbeat,
you’d know there’s no recovery.
We’re past all that,
bits too forgone to consider,
the beauty lies, quite perfectly
just beyond
and your hands belong there.
insurance required
beginning of the ending
memory delete
Driving the farthest eastern reaches of the Sandhills as this scene beckoned. Was it the water, sunset or hills calling names? The topography, a sensuous mastermind, plays within thoughts while memories flood the present.
How dare it.
Just as beauty sets in, and atop the already gorgeous scene, to share this – would have been the only cherished wish left to whisper. A hand held. Hard kiss, even tug of the hair and a reminding of the natural, even recommended design for an alliance.
Useless comes to mind, but doesn’t it always? Untrustworthy. Less than. Nothing deemed attractive found near not even near, by not just one, but from many.
Wicked is fate as she tosses over another just out of reach, if only the physical qualities found irresistible and encouraged were obtainable by another’s remnants. Would life continue to offer beauty with hopes someone might see?
bits of sparkle,
the color of mellow,
wild: her mortal teaser.
bouquet of modesty,
prairie grass her fringe,
yet, a classic beauty.
contagious; the hum created
faster rubber, faster
goosebumps
sideways smile, slight dimple
upon me
the possibilities await
and the doves coo’d this morning
Mesmerized by her icing
She’ll seduce you with her touch
Summertime is clearly over
Listen as Winter whispers, “Hush”
essence everywhere
sliding, slowly, before me
found beauty, lifeless
and myself sat searching.
water breaks past roots, stones and debris
flows towards my lense; healing.
Chortles echo in the distance,
oh, one day love will be,
Verdant , my keeper – Forest King
show me where life will lead,
tears dampen this face, and my page,
Colorado heal me,
God, show me grace.
I
I am
I’m just
I’m just sorry
I’m just so sorry
I’m just so
I’m just
I am
I
***
I’m sorry my words have been so dim as of late – for a long time now really. They’re lacking the beauty and happiness I swore I’d share when this site begin six years ago. There was sadness then and I wanted joy to survive the pain I felt, so I came here to teach myself to recieve happiness.
I’m going to do my best to share my light and the acceptance of myself again – the joy I know exists inside my heart. There is a little girl inside of me hurting something terrible. I owe it to her to show her beauty again, so I must try.
Not sure if it’ll be short stories as it was in the beginning (she likes those) or poems & photography, which aren’t perfect or winning any awards, but reflects what I see and feel. Bringing me much closer to love.
100 thank yous to those who still linger in my words. You are appreciated.
Hope to see you around,
Aud
curvy in multiple places
my soft spots will be
a favorite
twilight peeking through
i do wish to be with you
if bound
she is, because
she wants to be. Or
is she just that afraid
of abandonment, again.
powdered in pale pink
tranquility becomes her
touch depreciates
her heart isn’t shattered
it’s defeated,
depths of its final
landing, unknown
to many.
but to those who
greet her,
the many who
survive the fall,
they’ve found the truths in and of love
and have vowed
to show her
flush, is her flower
timid, yet she’ll grow.
ruddy, her spirit,
and you adore
how it’s shown.
innocence is her
mind’s essence,
full beauty yet to be shown.
He said, Dare yourself
to see yourself
as I see you.
View you, as I do,
Radiant.
displayed here
the significance,
you know,
is in the details.
watch her grow,
strength
affects the crimson
upon her petals.
reflections of self
causes me to see
I’m not her
will never be.
fairytale lesson
heard, and told again
and again,
little girl, listen!
full skirt of amerillo,
beauty incomparable
obvious,
she’s Belle
and he: her beast
there is no you
in their story.
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 