the edges of myself

words, words, words

I’ve closed my heart before locked it tightly– buried the key beneath layers of shoulds and coulds and woulds   I’ve watched myself walk away treading carefully, moving backwards longing for an explanation some semblance of the truth   I’ve understood the sting of rejection– internalized its pointy edges, embracing their lessons along with the …

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I think it’s important I be up front about this now– before we traverse this path any further and then you look back at me incredulously and say– “hey, you could’ve warned a brother,”– so here’s your warning: I am a fiery bitch. Sure, I can be sweet and tender– and I’ve tapped into loving …

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I’ve been moving through a lot of late.  The thing I notice about myself most notably is just how quickly I seem to be processing things these days.  What took me 12+ years just a couple of  years ago is now taking weeks, days, or sometimes just hours.  Some people might find it hard to …

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just two young babes when first our voices met seeking out the harmony amidst a sea of melody. Immediately we fell as only children can– making promises and plans far beyond our capacities. As the years unravelled, we held tightly, clinging to the familiarity– a warm soothing blanket– the gentle knowing unlike any other. We …

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my beloved friend, without whom navigating the darkness and light might prove impossible. We’ve travelled together, lifetime upon lifetime in different configurations but always held by love to bring ourselves to this place of perfection each of us perched upon our precipice and dancing– filled with a joy that fear cannot begin to touch.   …

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this is for me. a necessary part of my process this singular narration a weaving of words to give birth to these feelings welling within– unnecessarily contained. The worlds of trust you are teaching with your reticence and fear are miraculous– though not without bruises and bumps– sometimes maybe even a little blood. i know …

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a poem of sorts in that my hand is listening to brain unfurrowing my brow in allowance, an unleashing. i ate poems for breakfast when i was young– crammed them down my throat voraciously– bathed amongst them– allowing their words to drip from my body to dry. i dabbled in love and heartbreak at a …

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