Tag: writing

  • your eternity

    If nothing else, hold tight, never let go, against the current of time. If you can, take all these moments; a long laugh with a friend, the smell of fresh apple pie, freshness of summer wind on cheek, rolling skyline, streaked with sunlight, morning coffee in the quiet dawn, the stars fairy lights ever watching, serenity, gentle warmness of a full body hug,smiles…

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  • it is beautiful, it is sad

    It is unbearably beautiful, and it is unbearably sad. I am sitting on a bench in a quiet corner of the botanical gardens, and I am trying to pinpoint, once again, this emotion that has been a constant thrum throughout my life. People drift by, and I can almost feel time, its inevitable essence, flow…

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  • Shrapnel

    It’s been about five, six years. I’m still picking his shrapnel out of my bones, I’m still learning how to walk again without a limp; I’m still training myself to forgive and to understand and not to flinch. I can romanticise it, of course I can, weave it into my story, make it floral and…

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  • late night, bus rides

    it is quiet almost complacent on the late bus ride home, gentle lethargy, a long day blinking to a close; rolling past all those anonymous stories scattered under street lamps;the music in ears over the rumbling engines, all reverb and misplaced longing. im still scared, still carrying the weight of the day to day, but for now,…

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  • a tenderness

    a tenderness; dew drop rolling off autumn leaves, a brush of a hand at the sunset beach, gentle glances over quiet pauses, overhead a songbird sings. i want to hold this moment, a warm light a jar in my heart and i will kindle it softly, for the rest of my years.

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  • It’s about wonder and curiosity, not happiness

    The old adage “live every day as if it were your last,” can be wise words to live by (if not tinged with existential fear), but I’ve found that living every day as if it were your first is just as applicable as the former. Living every day as if it were your last has…

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  • in betweens

    i left footprints at every stop, curled thoughts around them, draped memories over them, every intersection, street lamp, all those in-between places more honest than most. and it’s always the inbetweens that told the truth, where you wrote your stories, where you always belonged. palimpsest of hearts in the middle, scribbled ink through crooked roads;…

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  • bravery

    Sometimes bravery isn’t lion man, knight in shining armour, running through the fire; sometimes bravery is: Saying no, even though your voice shakes in your chest. Getting up in the morning, leaving the house when it’s the last thing you feel able to do. Leaving a toxic – place – environment – relationship – you’re…

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  • has the love

    Wrote this poem about healing from toxic/abusive situations; it’s about learning that violence/chaos/fear don’t equal love. Instead, it’s gentle and kind and balanced and you deserve to feel safe. I’m not religious but it’s written as a prayer, it felt right that way. O Lord has the love,the notion of it – Been twisted bramble thorns, Curved vines…

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  • infinitesimal

    we are a brush of life,next to each other a blink of an momentin infinitesimal spacetime. “where do we go when we go?”i know that even when we are gone,the love we shared, it remains. lingering in the blossoming flowershope in the springtime,floating in the sweet scent of apple pie in the flowing countryside,between the notes…

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