Her world opens and closes as she melts into him.

He doesn’t know, or maybe he does,

how much she holds back.

A peck on the lips, a deeper kiss.

She wants to devour him.

She wants him to feel what she does.

She is not even aware of onlookers,

she doesn’t care.

She only cares about feeling him;

physically, mentally, emotionally.

She has this moment only.

She memorizes his breathing,

his finger tips, his eyes,

the taste of his lips.

She is both alive and dead.

All those words she meant to say



Waking You With Kisses



Originally posted on The Migraine Chronicles:


I wake you with kisses

from your head to your toes

I wake you with kisses

on your lips and your nose

I wake you with tiny nibbles

on your ears

I wake you with tiny nibbles

on your rear

I wake you with kisses

at the nap of your neck

I wake you with kisses

down the length of your back

I wake you with nibbles

inside of your thighs

I wake you with love

as you open your eyes

View original

I Dance with Depression

I dance with depression
a slow sorrowful waltz
dips and twirls
that fade in and out

It’s not glamorous
the dresses have no frills
there are no vivid colors
disco balls or thrills

I don’t know when my partner
will show to take
me by my hand
I’d like to tell him no
but the choice isn’t mine


He pulls me to the floor
before the music starts
the dancing begins
as my self-preservation

Thoughts of death and suicide
slowly infect my mind
I don’t want it to happen
but it does
from time to time

You see
I dance with depression
I try to tell him no
but he drags me to floor
and it’s happening more
and more

A Thousand Times


A thousand times I tell him goodbye.

In my mind.

Who am I kidding?

He runs through my veins.

If I cut myself open and bled dry,

he would still be with me.

He is my air.

My lungs labor for breaths

when he is not near to filter my pollutants.

He is my Superhero.

Saving me from myself.

The wicked, belittling bitch that I am.

He is my Sunshine.

Warming me, and

shining brightly unto my dullest days.

He is both the loudest

and softest voice in my head.

He keeps me from

going crazy,

yet, is my truest insanity.

And a thousand times

I tell him goodbye.

But only in my mind,

yes, only in my mind.

In An Instant


She knew in an instant

the weight of his world

why she would always

and never be, his girl

She could see through

his eyes, into his soul

she felt it in his touch

why, he couldn’t let go

She knew in an instant

every lie in his truth

so as she held tightly

she was letting loose

She knew by his kiss

the instant was gone

still within her heart

she’d forever hold on


Recently I paid a visit to my childhood home.  My parent’s home, as I refer to it.  I spent most of my childhood years in this town, and house, but I have been away now longer than I had lived there.  Still, family and friends will ask “how long will you be HOME?” or “when will you be HOME again?”, I smile and reply, “I’ll be VISITING for 5 days” or “I’m not sure when I’ll VISIT again.”  That place is not my HOME, nor do those people know me.  They know the girl who grew up there, the women I let them see, but they don’t know the me I have become.

Then I return from my visit and my current residence has been rearranged.  My bed is moved, my dresser, my writing desk, all of “my comfort” materials.  I am standing on unfamiliar ground.  I am not surprised, this has never been my HOME.  This has been the home of my children and their father, but not mine.

I have yet to find my HOME.  Someplace I can find peace, comfort and wholeness.  I’ve caught a glimpse in rare moments, in coffee shops, truck stops, dark offices, my car, parks, beaches, but never in a house.  Maybe someday, maybe not, some people aren’t meant for that.  Maybe my HOME is in the eyes of my children, and loved ones, maybe it is not a place for me, but rather a feeling.  Yes, I think perhaps HOME is a feeling, and I shall need to visit often.

Let’s see if I can

Originally posted on The Migraine Chronicles:

I met a boy
or rather, a man
I’d like to tell you about him
let’s see if I can

He makes me smile
from the inside out
it doesn’t matter
what we are talking about

He pulls me close
to hold me tight
I’d like to explain this
but my words aren’t right

He offers me comfort
without a sound
just knowing he’s with me
the feeling – is profound

He makes me tingly
from my head to toes
and the places in-between
including my… nose

He gets me wet
with just a look
I’ve got it bad
Yep, I’m hooked

I’m honestly in awe
that he bothers with me
I don’t understand
what it is he sees

But I’m sure not questioning
because he might change his mind
and men like him
you just can’t find

View original


She removes her flip flops to bare her feet

wishing she were baring her whole being

She wants to push him into the soft grass

not giving a damn about the mess

As her hand lays softly upon his knee

she wishes to run it up his thigh just as easily

She wants to kiss him hard and harder still

to feel every tingle as her body thrills

She longs to turn in his embrace to face him

rip his shirt from his chest to feel his skin

She wants to ride him there where they sit

and that smooth face of his, she wants to lick it

But now is not the time, nor is this the place

she gathers her composure, she shows the greatest restraint

His Arms


I am taking a small break to reconnect with my safe and tranquil place ;)

Originally posted on The Migraine Chronicles:

I loved him before

but now, I love him more

I had a complete moment of clarity

with his arms wrapped around me

every doubt in the back of my mind

disappeared in that moment in time

my whole world stopped, time stood still

I’d never felt so safe and tranquil

and now I love him more

than I did before

View original

3 am


3 am, I reach for you

I’ve forgotten, I’m no longer allowed to

3 am, no vibration from my phone

I remind myself, I am alone

3 am, are you still awake, looking at the stars

laying there, on the hood of your car

3 am, holds me hostage as early day breaks

memories haunt, my heart aches

* I have written this piece hundreds of times in my head for the last two years, it was time to get it out of my head…

The Cut

The cut is much deeper than I care to express

Blood runs crimson from my beating chest

Pain remains hidden behind expressionless face

What has been lost cannot be replaced

The void so wide and gaping, incomprehensible to me

Cause of this affliction is my current mystery