A kiss by any other name….

That moment you kissed me,
was that the moment of now or never,
or was it the moment of drunk and horny-




Eyes closed to the sunshine
as warmth fills my soul
in a baited breath moment
that She took by surprised
as lips left their imprint
against the skin my smile-

Rambles as such is my mind..

Today is a day, that I revisit old feelings, hurts and sadness. My twins had their first day of school today. I wasn’t there. I didn’t get to help them get ready. I didn’t get to put them on the bus this morning. I won’t be there when they get home and have all the cool stuff they will have from the first day of getting to school. I won’t see those faces when they tell me stories of other kids they met.

I won’t be there. I cried so hard this morning,when no one could see, it hurt and pulled up those things from the first time I didn’t have them for the holidays.

But this is the choice I made, for both them and me. I am at a point in my life that if I can’t pull myself together and get a grip on the things that haunt me, I will not be the Mom that they need, the Mom that I needed when I was their age.

IT HURTS! But I know it is for the best,in the long run.

So today I am burying my head in music and the mundane things of house cleaning, and maybe some other writing.

I will be ok, and so will they.

Visions in smoke

She moves like silk
against glass,swirling
caresses seem to push
through the air
as so many thoughts
take wing, to be lost
among theĀ smokeĀ of
scattered dreams.

There is something about the way the breeze pulls across my skin, that reminds me of memories I don’t have anymore,lost in a life time gone past.
It feels good and bittersweet, like the last time I tasted the sunshine from your lips before the rain washed it all away.
Tripping through forget-me-nots and trying to etch the shape of your smile
into my mind,so the fragrance won’t leave me blind to the bliss I see there-


Here they come, the ever flowing stream of thoughts, and words and often unvoiced cries. Pulling the fingers to keys and pens,crayons or even the blood from broken fingernails. anything to get them out, to let them go outside the space they are in before they become the vibrations of power, the spoken sound of magic.

There is power in words, let us not be unaware


the promises whispered
into the sweet breeze
of yesterday, the love
that would always
still see me, even when
I was blind.
All those and more
left in the shadows of
what was left unkept-

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