I use blank pieces of paper, old napkins from breakfast, and the white spaces on my starbucks coffee cup. Yes, I know what your thinking; how do you utilize these objects to your benefit? I’m a writer. All blank spots are filled with the 228,132 words placed in the Oxford English dictionary. I can’t promise I use all of those words correctly, or put them to good use, but I at least try to apply them to my life.
Every kiss creates electricity, that dances across my trembling lips. The shock executes an affectionate burst of zesty desire. At this moment I am completely consumed in us. As your fingertips trace my strong collar bone my skin energizes from the acceleration of your caress. The advancement of my potent addiction for our growing love shows a different side of me. You bring out the anticipated love I made sure to carefully stitch away inside the rifts of my damaged heart. The solitude of my perpetual devotion to you builds a wall around my pure gift I reserve only for you. Your gravity pulls me into the sanctuary of an authentic man’s embrace. A man like you knows about my fragile strength, but encourages me to push my breaking point. Together we find the only gift life pushes into a corner; true and undefiled love.
We communicate through song, you and I live seperate stories.Our lives roll along smoothly when were together like the words fit perfectly in a song.Each step comes differently as each note fills the void in the air.The melodic tune is not drear but full of life expressing our strong bond.There is never a dull moment or song that could describe us.As our fingers interlace the song prepares the future.Two hearts become one when the last note is played and the song becomes a whole when our lives consist of one another.
The anticipated wait killed my siblings and I before my dad arrived home from work. We sat on the steps waiting for the roar of his truck to reach our driveway we were decked out from head to in our fishing gear. This wasn’t any regular o’le run of the mill fishing no sireee this was Alaska fishing. My little sister, brother, and I, all with our smelly waiters and fishing caps ready for action, ready to snag a big one. When my dad finally arrived home we lept into action grabbing last minute items while dad geared up. Most of the time we were already seat belted in the truck before my dad could step inside the house. When we arrived at the seaweed infested river all our eyes would grow wide with excitement. Striding toward the river with the look of a professional fisherman we all cast and “fish on!” After casting our third time we usually hooked a Salmon. What a rush! My stomach would flop and I fought with the fish struggling using every technique in the book making sure my fish didn’t wiggle its way off the hook. After I tugged my fish onto the shore I took pride in what I had accomplished. Wearing ourselves out we knew we would be dog tired in the morning but we didn’t care. All good things must come to an end so midnight was our curfew. When we had lugged all the fish back to the truck we headed off to the cleaning station. I never would clean the fish but watch carefully so when my time came to do so I wouldn’t end up butchering my prized possession. My dad skillfully cleans and guts the fish, keeping some parts for bait and some for dinner. When everything is finished we race home to hit the hay hoping tomorrows run will be even more of a thrill.
The icicles outside loose their chill and shed their water. Gravity pulls down on the water glisining in the sunlight. As the heavy drop ascends through the soil it nourishes soon to be life that will erupt from the ground. Snow glides effortlessly through the empty sky and lands gently on majestic mountain tops. The bitter cold air bites at my body leaving a stinging sensation to exposed skin. Winter blesses the trees with frost bitten branches and lakes with solid sparkling surfaces. With slow refrain winter holds on till the sun stretches it’s rays across our frozen tundra.
With the little light I am able to produce, shadows reflect on the walls in the cavity of my heart. These shadows bend over and cry when life has pushed me to the edge, pound on the walls in frustration when I feel like cracking, and rejoice bounding themselves to the flame that kindles their happiness. As a women I am a mystery allowing these shadows to play inside my heart, but God forbid I allow them to burst through my wall. I will open my life to the person that decides to dance along with the shadows inside me. Sometimes I feel like letting go and letting these people I encounter take my hand and bring these shadows to life. What is wrong with letting the shadows that ache to be set free take shape and form the actual person I am?
As toddlers we take our first steps. Our parents rejoice as we start wobbling and tumbling around the house. As we develop these steps take us further in life. I want to print the shape of my foot around the world. Along the coast of every ocean and in every street of this big world, my foot print will be left. Every impact of my step will force the ground to mold along my arch and create an opposite but equal reaction. With every stride, I remember that I can never reverse my steps and take back my forward motion. I carry on and leave my impression carefully. Soon time will wash away my prints into the ocean and erode them form the streets in Greece. The only thing that will matter is that I took my first step.
I am the wild, crimson rose erupting through the soft soil in spring.
As soon as I have blossomed, I dance with the wind and grow radiant in the sun’s rain drops.
I am the murky reflection in a fresh afternoon rain puddle.
I slowly disappear as the rain evaporates in the humid summer air.
I am words from the family bible reaching out to those who need a helping hand.
I am a cream colored shell tossed in the glittering, aqua ocean.
When I reach the sandy shores, I sink into the grains and wait to be washed back into the sea.
I am the twisted vines that climb Juliet’s tower and watched true loves first kiss.
I am a smooth pebble on the worn path many weary travelers cross.
When I am found I am tucked in a pocket for safe keeping.
I am love that floats through the air.
I jump on the hearts of many and is blocked out by those who were loved.
I was the cracked ground that many stepped on, but now I am the tree many gaze upon.
I was the seed that was planted into the ground by gentle hands, now I am the pear that is picked.
I am and I was a sparkling star placed on the black ribbon of sky.
I was taken by hand who now keeps me warm in their arms, no more to wonder, no more to seek out who I am.