Tuesday, June 30, 2015


Weaving patches to cover the torn pieces, the needle pierces right through my finger, 

I don't attempt to replace my comforter, I cut pieces of old fabric, I seek stronger threads, 

I do my best to preserve my relic, but sometimes It's easier to cover myself with other blankets,

But I long for the old, I long until my tearing fabric full of patches is upon me,

Sometimes I cheat on all my blankets and lay between completely foreign sheets,

But I'm never able to sleep, I stare at the ceiling, anxious to rise, ready to leave, dying to reach for my patchy old cover,

Full and thirsty, desiring the lick of your sweaty skin, wanting to hear your grunting, needing to say I'm needing, 

As torn as I am, as much as I patch, I know that your water can soak up the desert that's become my skin, 

The patchy blanket that covers my heart has changed since I laid on your sheets, 

When your waves crashed my beach we created paradise in my body, you didn't mend, you didn't patch, you filled every crevice.  


Friday, June 19, 2015

We Choose

We decide within ourselves how we feel about experiences outside ourselves. We label situations as good or bad, as positive or negative, based on perspective, awareness, action and reaction. 

 We choose things, people, places, based on the amount of pleasure or pain they inspire. There are no coincidences, we are, we seek, we attract, we become, we create the feelings and the life we want. We suffer when we stop creating, we become lost, stagnant and at the mercy of the architects around us. 

 A moment is perfect when we choose to bring perfect awareness to it, a moment is sad when we choose to bring awareness to what's painful about it. And just because we bring awareness to sadness doesn't mean that we ourselves are sad, we are simply witnessing a sad perspective, we have simply brought awareness to one of the infinite perspectives we can choose to witness life through and it happens to be a perspective of sadness. 

 Fear, terror, shock, can sometimes sneak up on us, for our own defense mechanism will naturally generate these feelings to protect us in life threatening situations or when a dear one passes away. But it is our choice to remain in such feelings after we realize what we are experiencing. 

 We choose whether to give continuation to certain emotions, we choose whether to continue to entertain certain feelings. So yes, we choose who we love or should I say, we choose who we allow ourselves to love. Sometimes we make decisions so quickly that it might feel like we had no choice but we have complete freedom over who we choose to journey with. 

 But when it comes to fitting with another perfectly, well, for a glove to fit your hand it must not only be a certain size but your hand must also be open and relaxed.


Wednesday, June 10, 2015


At first sight he was pretty, pretty with an Ivy League haircut, pretty with smooth golden locks parted to the side, pretty with gold eyelashes and eyebrows, pretty with ocean eyes and a smile....a very pretty smile. 

A beautiful preppy man out of a Ralph Lauren catalog, he held his head high, his neck cocked attentively listening to every word I said. His humor was cut and dry and I  surprised him by not being faded by his blunt remarks. 

He sat up straight, held his glass gracefully, slowly sipping his Samuel Adams ale. Pretty and poised, like a leading character in a James Bond film. 

His military training was apparent in his reserved manner, he kept his hands to himself and his speech was direct, his eyes were serious and his piercing glance scanned me for truth. 

He was arrogantly funny, entitled yet charming, and knew exactly what he wanted. I was hormonal, having hot flashes in October, high on anxiety, sweating and lying to myself about what I was doing there. 

The beginning was painful, I refused to give in to my desires, mainly because I hadn't planned to and once I make a decision I'm a hard head to change. I was green, I wanted to meet new people but in my own secluded way, I didn't know what I was in for so I ran away. 

 And as I was leaving he played me "You can go your own way", a Fleetwood Mac song.
He thought the song appropriate as it was one of my favorite artists and he felt that I was making a mistake. 

After a few laps around the block I went back, I wanted to be with an adequate man and having no strings attached no longer sounded so bad. He had deleted me, but he too went back, maybe because I was a prize once refused to him or maybe I simply made contact at the right moment, you'd have to ask him. 

Months had past since we first met, I had no expectations,
My experiences didn't let me, and I went in there thinking,
"This will be quick and easy",
Like riding a bike, like cleaning my teeth, "This will be easy, I can do this". 

We came together again at the end of March, as an ex lover of mine would say, "I made it happen". And he trusted me, maybe because I stood up for myself when we first met, maybe because I didn't laugh at his jokes, maybe because I didn't give in to his pretty hair and eyes and smile and....And so he accepted my words as truth and put his life in my hands, and flattered and extremely stupid I did the same. 

And he kissed me with his pretty face and lips and tongue, and he touched me with his pretty hands and fingers and finger tips, and he pressed his long torso against mine and began to cleanse. 

His burning skin, his sticky sweat, his unparalleled intensity, his unstoppable energy cleansing me, his exuding pores, his dripping wet hair soaking my face, his glistening abs rubbing against my belly cleansing me. 

I felt his entire being inside me, conquering untouched spaces, filling empty places, pushing out idle visitors, carving out rotten memories, filling me whole, he washed, washed old ghosts and created new marks and dents and ripples inside me. 

In a primitive physical way,
In a anti emotional way,
In a non-intentional spiritual way, he dressed my infected wounds, poured himself into me, infected me with healing serum, creating the necessary antibodies I needed to kill the diseases eating me.

Emptied and replenished, erased and renewed, dirtied and cleansed, he reset me, setting a new standard, giving me a new beginning with greater heights to climb up to. 

Magnificent, perfect to me, underneath a mischievous cloak lies a sweet boy, a leader, a structured soul, inside a fierce beastly body lies a compassionate healing man. 

I realize that without my own perfection, without my eyes and vision and senses, without my presence, awareness, perception, he couldn't have performed such miracles. He's perfect through my experience and reflection. 

So I give thanks, I feel gratitude for the opportunity to experience perfect cleansing moments of healing and clarity. 

People come into our lives and we judge, we judge them for being different, we criticize, and many times we miss out on amazing experiences that can happen when two entirely different worlds collide.