My life in the uncultured lane

I'm not one for small talk
And I'm usually well behaved
But I tend to prattle when I'm nervous

I talk about puppies and poetry...
People I know, and people I don't know
And how I wish I had longer hair
And how the color you get when you mix pink with purple should be called punk
And how pumpkin pie is better than pineapple upside down cake, but not by much
And how I generally love people, but I like some people the way I like my coffee... in small doses and far apart
And how I once grabbed a handful of what I thought was my ex's butt, but it was the butt of a priest
And how I was once chased out of church by a man with a stick
Because I wore shorts and he swore I was a sinner
And I am, but redeemed by grace
And while I'm not proud of most of my behavior
I promise I'm working on my poise

 

Careless

My love is quiet
It will not grind on you in a dark club where the music is too loud and everyone is too touchy but will reach out for your hand at a poetry slam when it locks heart with a sonnet
My love will rarely drag you out of bed for company but kiss you on the shoulder at 6am then head to the living room to finish a book
My love hates small talk but wants to know your deepest thoughts
My love doesn't try to be the life of the party, it strives to be kind the loner sitting in a corner
My love is not loud
It used to try to be, because that's how the movies and music videos and mills and boon described it
But at the cusp of 32, my love has learnt to be itself
Quiet
Steady
Reassuring
My love is not loud
If loud is what you are looking for
It's okay to bang the door on your way out

Prerogrative

Look at paintings and have too much time on your hands.
Sleep in.
Work long hours.
Or don’t.
Spend time with family and friends.
Pray.
Or don’t.
Love.
Say no.
Say yes...
give yourself permission to indulge in whatever feels like freedom.
Think.
Feel.
Or don’t.

View from Chupa Cabra during a race last night, it felt like freedom!

Fluently Us!

Mom no longer asks what I’m up to

Not because she doesn’t care

More so because she can’t keep up, and she doesn’t approve of half of it anyway 

The fucking nose ring and other possible piercings she doesn’t want to know about

Sky diving, sailing, country hoping, moving all the damn time, not dating the senator’s son, not getting married, not giving her grandchildren, not calling her every day.

Mom no longer asks what I’m up to

Because she knows I manage to take care of myself 

Having control of my body, trying new things, exploring the world, not dating assholes, saying no to proposals that only fulfill social obligations, not having children for the hell of it, not calling her everyday. 

Mom no longer asks what I’m up to because she knows that through it all, I love her the most and always find my way back to her. That will never ever change and that’s all that matters, everyday.

Not Grieving

Maybe if you make yourself so busy that you literally don't have the time to process the death of your grandmother, you'll forget that your heart is breaking softer with every ignored message from family and friends. 

So, 

here you sit, 

not writing, 

not calling your mother, 

not crying your heart out.

Black Bird 4

*needs work, a lot of work haha*

Sometimes, we mourn a love we never had
A love we could have had

But chose not to settle for
Yet, we mourn the loss of it
Because… hope!

Hope is such a dangerous thing
It leaves you wanting, needing
Reeking of something so strong they can smell it miles away
And who wants that?

Hope is such a fickle thing
It leaves you confused, deranged
Wondering why you have faith in something that proves over and over again it’s only here to hurt you
What is wrong with you?

Hope is such an inspiring thing
It makes you learn, invest
Growing into the kind of person you would be proud to be with
What’s wrong with that?

Hope is such a beautiful thing
It is curious, yet grounded
Knowing that contentment comes from self-love and companionship is just dessert, albeit delightful
There’s nothing wrong with that.