
I sit…
Tiger Balm filling the air.
Injured
But
Restored.
Age is creeping up on me
Fervently devoted to reminding
Me that mortality
And all its counterparts
Are HELL on EARTH.
We
Suffer
To
Live.

wandering eyes shift toward
a scarred wrist.
from years ago, fate
was sealed.
I think to myself,
“how did love end up here?”
I tilt my head…
I flex my wrist…
I find myself searching for
a connection when the connection
is already there.
slowly, I guide my hand
into the light,
lean into its luminance
and nod in approval.
if this is not significant,
if this holds no mark of welcome space,
if this is not proof that
I was made to love,
then I do not know what is — or
what will be.
I try to capture its shape.
I share it with loved ones,
they see it. and they don’t.
and I find myself smiling
at something so odd yet
a mystery too.
my body’s home to this flaw
and I do not recall the origin.
but, it is here.
as it sometimes appears on buttered toast,
as traveling clouds, and
in crumpled pieces of paper cut,
folded, opened, closed, and re-opened again.
my reminder, that if there is
only one thing I assume to be
my purpose in life —
and will always be,
it is to love.
Because I need to market my work a bit better, I have logged onto Instagram. If you so choose, follow me here.
Total Acceptance

Gently,
the needle glides,
my skin becomes
a perfectionist’s canvas —
a vision is born.
____________________________________
DHBogucki, who I lovingly call “B” blessed me with the ink you see above. I had an idea of what I wanted, pitched it to B, and he brought it to life. He’s a tattoo apprentice based in Western NC and a darn good one too! Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.
Or, What Love Looks Like On Eager Lips
love left us thirsty —
cherries popped in
the back seat of a minivan
shaky fingers and
plum-scented lips.
satiated by a
fountain of
YOU
filling an aching belly.
hunger
annihilated.
Originally published on October 14, 2017, via Medium.
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