Last Page, Last Line

Were you being polite or did you see the hidden secrets behind the veils of blue when our eyes met? Could this have been the reason for the brief, almost non existent upturn curve of your lips. A flash of warmth felt, a blush of red, had I given myself away? Why could I not stop these betraying eyes from looking? Why did you not look away? Now I felt like one of the opened books that laid before me, I was being read, I was being comprehended. Your eyes searching page by page, reading the secrets I kept hidden between the lines.

Dare I turn to the last page and read the last line or do I have the courage to let this story play out, chapter by chapter?

Did You Know

When the door opened, I did not look up, my eyes were transfixed on the book that laid before me, concentrating on the words of the text. I was spell bound, lost in their meaning, lost in my comprehension, unaware of your presence until I heard you speak. The words escaped your lips, in a whisper, barely audible, but none the less loud enough for me to hear them as you introduced yourself to the lady behind the counter. Your voice was the magic it took to break the spell that had been cast on me. No longer a prisoner to the text, my eyes lifted from the page, freed to search the room, freed to find the voice that had broken their chains. Did I stare too much, perhaps too long? Did you have that familiar feeling that someone was watching you, was this the cause, the reason our eyes met. Could you tell, did you know even then . . .

Finding My Way Out

The opening of my eyelids drove the darkness of the night away this morning as they opened to the sunlight shining through the windows of the bedroom. Arms folded over the chest, corpse like, I lay there motionless, allowing only the involuntary actions of my body to function. Blinking, clearing the eyes of sleep, clearing the mind of clouded dreams, I laid there. Aware of my morning hardness, aware of the deafening silence of an empty house, my senses became alive, but I remained a corpse in waiting, eyes staring out into space. Sitting on the nightstand, only a turn of the head away, a clock faithfully counted the seconds of the passing of the day, but I lost track of time. . . I laid there. The gears of a thinking mind, my mind were turning but no images were being projected, there was nothing but a blank screen. A maze of grey matter and I could not see the exit sign, body motionless, mind spinning, I wandered, I searched its corridors, finding only more dead ends. I laid there . . . catatonic . . . staring into space . . . Amelia Earhart lost.

Tumble Weed

All my life . . . I've been the mighty oak, grounded, able to withstand the gale force winds of the hurricane. Lifelines securely tied, I've been the anchor in the storm.

But . . . time is taking its toil. The winds batter my branches, even when there is calm. The teardrops overflowing the dam of my eyes wash away the earth that remains even when the clear sky keeps at bay the waters of the storm. Uprooted, ravaged by time, I topple over like the ancient pillars of Rome. I fall victim, to time. I can endure for you no longer. No longer for you can I survive. You must take breathe on your own. Our strength that once flowed through my veins is no more, I grow weaker, to continue will surely mean death for the both of us. Even now I wonder if it is too late? Have I strength enough to let go, enough faith, to allow myself to be blown across the barren landscape.

A tumble weed searching for its anchor . . .

It's Getting Too Crowded In Here

Too many irons in the fire, too many pots on the stove, too many hands kneading the dough. Hands reaching out, hands pulling me here, tugging me there, unable to go forward, unable to go backward, I stand and spin around and around. I can do just so much. I can be in just so many places at one time, and frankly, I do not want to do that, or that and I do not want to go there, be there. I don't suppose one of your many options being flung my way is to leave me the fuck alone, is it? You have problems? Well, I hate to inform you but so does she, he and it. And do you want to know what else, so do I. I would love to pull the magic wand out sprinkle you with fairy dust and make the rain clouds over your head disappear today, but I can't, I'm not God! If I was, do you think I would be living in this fucking closet? Can't you understand, I can not fix your problem, stop calling, the damn ringing of the phone is driving me insane. Don't you get the message by now? I'm not answering it! Today is my day off and I have a date with Stephen, Jr. That is, if you will stop interrupting me with the damn ringing of that phone.

Naked

I tear out, by the roots, a lifetime of teachings.

Acceptance without questioning why, will be no longer.

I stand here, as the day I was born, naked, bleeding from the wounds of a lifetime.

Seeking the truth, I present not to you, but to myself a blank canvas.

This time I will be the painter.