Love and Wednesaday



Wednesday

I was meant to love you.
Love you, like I did that Wednesday.
And not in an obsessive
I can’t breath without you kind of way.
But in the way it feels when
millions of butterflies are dancing in the bellies
of those sharing a first kiss.
Nervous and flawed,
Not perfect but always honest in its intentions.
I remember falling asleep
To the rhythm of your heart beat.
The beats sounding like waves breaking on cliffs
Beautiful, strong, silent.
Having never felt a real closeness to another human being,
I realized on Thursday
I was truly a part of something special, intimate.
A secret language of lovers, honest and real.
I found purpose in loving you.
And not that I mean my purpose is you.
But I found purpose and truth
in my ability to love so freely, and be so giving.
Never perfect just honest and warm.
In the moonlight and breeze of the pacific ocean
I knew I belonged to you
As much as you to me.
In this moment and vulnerability, I found myself.
I was connected to my heart, and my heart connected to you.
Like puzzles pieces no matter where they are placed
There is only one true and perfect fit.
I had no doubt we were a part of moments larger the we knew.
Understanding love and the universe, sacred things.
Distance would soon separate us,
But having seen lifetimes in your eyes,
and melting into warm embraces I hadn’t known
And will never stop hoping to feel again.
I find comfort in this memory, where sadness is a gaping hole.
We were never perfect only honest about feelings
and instincts.
Tuesday brought sadness
I will never forget, and not one of loss
But one of knowing it would be long
Before I felt these things again
Years later, we are still not perfect
But honestly connected
Because we shared secrets
Most will never know.
And I guess it was never meant to be perfect
But it was honest, soulful, and full of life.
And I was meant to love you, maybe not everyday
But just on Wednesdays when I find myself alone
And being honest.

*Original poem written by me over a year ago, edited, revised, revisited and loved again. Not perfect, just an honest reflection of a very real moment in my past life.

Jesuis Aime'

(image: classy-in-the-city.tumblr.com)

happy place.

happy place.
I hate that I still get nervous when you call.
Even after all these years, the butterflies are still there.
I hate that when I convince myself to forget and let go,
that stupid song comes on the radio, out of no where, for no reason!
I hate how when I think about the happiest time in my life
we are back on the road up the coast and driving through miles of smiling cows.
I even hate that my simple pleasures, my hobbies, all somehow lead me back to you
And remind me of the times I spent beading butterflies and prayer beads
Stuffing envelopes full of love and me
I hate that sometimes when I close my eyes and silence the noise in my life
I can hear your voice whispering “sweet baby” and feel goose bumps still.
Vividly I remember the scent of your skin in the morning pacific ocean air
And the places we were in, and the many stolen kisses under sunlight, moonlight
And everything in between.
I hate that I feel breathless and almost childish each time you paint me beautiful.
I seem to forget feeling anything but happily peaceful when I listen to your sighs.
I hate that no matter how much I say I hate these things
It never seems to change how I feel about you.
Most of all I hate that I know I can feel this way about someone
And be without them, missing them, and feeling jipped .
And to be completely honest I have never hated how I feel
Only that you’ve never known how much I hate that you are not here
That I am not there and that we are not on that road, looking at happy cows
And catching a glimpse of what happy looks and smells like…

Another original poem written over a year ago, edited, revised, and I think finished for now. A happy memory, and a happy place...how I wish I could smell that ocean air on the cliff..and wave at the happy cows on my way to the purest happy moment my heart has ever known....

Jesuis Aime'

(image: sunsurfer.tumblr.com)

the language of letting go.

Sometimes you just have to keep that past in it's place, so that you can remain in the present and keep hopeful of the future. No matter how deep the pain runs, how much the memories sting, we have to remember that it is now over. And while we can not change what has happened, we can learn, grow stronger, and overcome obstacles displaying the highest of our human potential. We have survived and lived to breath another day. We can forgive ourselves mostly, and learn to love and laugh again without fear. Perhaps scarred, and a  little bruised, but always knowing that we made it through and can find our spirits reborn from anguish to shine brighter. I'll be completely honest, I didn't use to think this. I would hear it said more times that I care to repeat. But it took what it took, and finally I felt and believed these words in my bones. I felt myself rising from ashes not to forget the mess I made, but to understand that in that bloody mess, I found myself. I was able to take my own hand and walk out of the tunnel shining my own flashlight to the end. I was able to quiet mini storms of my regrets, doubts, anger and fears in order to listen to the tiny voice inside my heart, I had forgotten was there. When all is said and done, I can now say that I helped save myself, purely out of my own recognition of self worth and love. I also owe infinite thanks to the many hands that silently and invisibly kept me from failing too deep, that created pockets of love around every part of my being. From the birds in the trees singing morning songs about new days, to the leaves blowing freely on the wings of the wind, to the sweet purity in my nephew's laughter. I realized how small the chaos was in the grander scheme of things. My bad days were lessons in humility I had left to learn. And just as I once read, it may not always come wrapped in a pretty bow, but LIFE still remains and will always be a gift.

Jesuis Aime'

memories and rambling...

memories and ramblings.

My love for you is rooted in memories.

And I’ve often wondered if they’ll fade with time?

We have.

It all seems so long ago…

Sometimes I ask myself if they feel the same as when we made them.

Asking myself if they are as real as the empty void I have left.

A gaping hole taunted with memories of everything we had

I read old letters and look at pictures

Things seemed so different then.

Both guided by what was in our hearts, ruled by feeling and need.

We both were different then.

Me, in my innocence and willingness to be swept away by you.

You’ve seen the very part of me no one else has seen.

Vulnerability, unguarded, unconditional willingness to love and be loved back.

The look in your eyes has always been so peaceful.

A saving grace when the reality of this world is too much for me to bare

So willing to gaze me at ease.

My ego wonders if the price we paid was worth it.

We swam in many rivers fighting currents and our fears.

Many voices of concern and mocking what we attempted to make work

And here we are today…

So separate, so distant…

And yet while you look back with fondness in your reveries of our past,

I can’t seem to let the feelings and memories go...

I use to think it was you, grasping

…at the only pieces of myself

left open…and available…

Now I realize it’s been my soul clutching

To you…my escape from loneliness.

My love…

Things are so confusing now...

And these memories…

Are like ghosts haunting my heart and thoughts.

Pointing out my missteps, reflections, future and my need for a happier present.

And it’s so easy getting lost in you…my happy place

My most peaceful state…

The scent of you still lingers like heavy hearts and my heart bound like hands

Clutching to keep reality at bay

I think about the words that left me then, which I speak in silence that

My love grows still and always, and these, my memories

count passing days hoping to manifest in flesh…again.

An original poem written about a year ago, reworked and edited, like all my writing is still and probably will always will be a work in progress.

Jesuis Aime'

(image: details to come)