In a moment of silence.

I heard you calling out to me last night
But I did not come
I could not come
I could not allow myself to see your face
A mirror of the past
Reflecting and refracting memories
some forgotten for a moment
More like, intentionally set free
because they hurt so bad
Those sunny - carefree - lounging days
Those pick me up after school days
Those scream at me for stupidness days
Those don't tell mom or dad days
Those days...
Where for thirteen years we were us.
Brother and sister.

It's Tuesday, February 14...ok...and!!?!

The all inclusive,
infallibly incessant,
impeccably rouge(d) flora
scream out to my peripheral vision
To be the watcher -
Thirsting in my hypothetical
desert-ed dugout.
I'm comfortable here anyway...yea...(in)fallibly comfortable...


*The red is my half-assed way of being festive. I guess...

Asleep in her den, she dreams.

I dream of becoming the lioness
who sits on her throne of stone
I think I can I know I can...at least I want to,
be - the id, the instinctual animal lying -
dying to be let free from inside of me
I need to act on a notion -
a care free whim -
a who gives two shits attitude -
an undeniably thorough concept
yet mistake driven yet null and void of any regrets
I am the lioness
whose eyes posses a beauty masked with a cunning twinge enveloped in that thing -
that thing -
that thing - that makes a woman a woman
that thing - a hundred times more luring then a scent...long flowing locks...or a vagina.
It's that thing.
That person we all dream of being.
It's that thing.
That person we could be if we were...if we had...if only...
Dammit, it's that thing, it's who we already are -
hand crafted in our core,
by the women, past lionesses who dreamed long before.