Between East and WestThe sunrise is precious to me;a gift from you, there in the East.Bringing me a few more hours closer,but reminding me of the thousands of milesthat still separate us.Later, nighttime beckons me to standon the back porch of this old house,searching for the star we chose as ours.I find it nestled at the corner of the Big Dipperand I smile through lonely tears,for perhaps you are seeing it too.I settle beneath the blanket,resigning myself to another night ofblack and white dreamsand you in two-dimensional color.Sending prayers for your safetyI drift to the land of fitful slumber,dreaming of a daywhen between East and Westthere is only a breath.
monster playpenFor a more in-depth description, read my latest journal. I put it there so as not to influence the reader.Have you ever been dependent on someone you loved? Wanting them to fix your problems, feeling loved and protected...and then realizing almost too late that they were causing everything they "fixed"?
waiting for you to come homethere are no words here in this room,only the artificial glow of your emerald eyesas they watch over me from your pictures,silent and unmoving on my screen.your smile is frozen in time there,but I remember it when it was warm,invitingly poised just close enoughfor me to touch with my lips.the skin I love so much is there, too;covered in a variety of colors and fabricsbut I can see places on your neckwhere I remember kissing you..there are no words here in this room;only the silence of you being goneand the whisper of sound as my tears fallonto clasped hands.
Flutter - euphoria and kindredfragile wingsmove gracefully,open and closeover a delicate body.In search of lifeAnd luscious nectar;Parting petals andLanding on insignificant feet.it guards the secret of its flight:fairy dust clinging to thready veinsand see-through colors catching sunlight;fluttering in defense.Pushing off in to the airBumbling in graceful gracelessnessThrough an array of semi precious perches,coming to land inquisitivelyon a tiny finger.With the soft stroke of a finger tippaper thin wings crumblein merciless curiousity;And innocent admiration shinesin the child's bright eyes.
By the BookI am Abraham,forced to choose between you loving meor believing in my heart's destiny.I am Joshua,leading a charge against the walls of Jericho,wishing they would fall and you would love me, no matter my choice.I am Jonah,laying in the stinking belly of your will,wishing only to be spat out upon the sand, alone.And I am Stephen,for I would give my life rather than deny the truth I have found:I am who I am.
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