Seven Heart Shaped Lockets

   Every year since her 20th birthday, Shelly's grandma had given her a heart shaped locket. Said that's how many true loves one can have in a lifetime. Said that seven is the amount of times you can forgive a man before you leave him. Her grandma was 91 when she died. She said her age had love luck mixed with the number 13 superstition and she loved that. The day that she died was the day she gave Shelly her last locket. She was a wise woman and knew her time was up. When Shelly was called to her bed, she placed her hand upon her grandma's cheek and looked into her eyes. Tears rolled down her grandma's cheeks, reminding Shelly of dew on a maple leaf.
   "My dearest granddaughter. It is so close to your birthday and I wanted with all my heart to be there, but I fear I don't have enough strength to last. So I am going to give you your present early.
   She pulled out the last heart shaped locket, this one slightly bigger then the rest.
   "This one was always my favorite. I met your grandfather the year I was given that. It was magical."
   Shelly nodded and her grandma continued on.
   "As you know this is the last locket I will ever give you. You must find your true love and nothing less with it and when you are old and your children have children, you must give these to the first born girl on her 20th birthday. You must tell her the same things I am telling you now, then she too will live a wonderful life. Do you promise me Shelly?"
   "I promise you, Grandma."

Not About the Bird

A hummingbird stared,
it's beady eyes,
it's controversial hunger.
Was it worth the pain?.
But did it ever stop to think
about its pain?
My pain.
My life.
Passers by,
barely a glance.
Berries picked,
barely a thank you.
My body quivering.
Flakes falling.
Empty.

Abandonment,
Each to it's own degree.
Encounters,
Each receding across the board.
Loneliness,
Each pull leading to withdrawal,
Mind,
Each raped through desire.

Freedom

Freedom,
To roam the house with no one in it.
Freedom,
To be as lazy or determinded as you wish.
Freedom,
To sing at the top of your voice.
Freedom,
To talk to yourself without seeming crazy.
Freedom,
To wake uo at 3am just for the sake of it.
Freedom,
To miss the ones that have gone.

Friendship

A new frienship today,
Eight years of seperation.
But interests are common.
Her mouth moves often,
My ears strain to hear all.
Her curious nature astoundes me.

Perfect Life

A perfect life is no life at all.
It's condescending,
Humiliating.
And you feel no pain.
How does one connect if they only feel happiness?
There is no way they can.
This was just walked by,
He looked slightly depressed.
How will you comfort him,
If you don't know what it's like?

Round-a-bout

I came to a point today where I had to do it for myself. Not because I was told to, or because I needed to, but because I had to. When I sat it was in a growth of bushes, smack dab on the muddy earth, branch supporting my back. I had no sense of time, I could be here for minutes or hours, but truthfully I didn't care. This could be the perfect place to people watch, if there were more people. But I'm glad there's not. Every person I see brings me out of my thoughts, out of why I'm here.And the whole time I have a sense of a homeless man coming to stab me because this is where he stowed his bag. My head is thinking, but I need it to relax. I'm in the middle of a round-a-bout. Literally. Does it mean something that i chose this very place? I don't know. But I do know that its a one way street, and I'm stuck in the middle of it. As soon as i leave I'm back on it until i visit this resting place again. Its like a safe haven.

Beauty

If one was to see a lady,
a petit old lady,
her hair the colour of ashphalte,
wrinckles as deep as a conyon,
veins seen from miles away,
short and stout,
bones of a skeleton,
clothes from past centuries,
eyes full of hope.
No matter what one sees,
it's not what she sees,
she thinks she is beautiful,
because in her heart,
she is.

Fury

So much anger coursing through your body,
It can't be withheld any longer.
It triggers the muscles,
Rage of strength.
But it still flows through you and needs to get out.
It puddles in your eyes,
Flows down your velvet cheeks,
And at last the anger drops to the ground.

Our Seperation Need Not Be Final

"Where were you yesterday? I did not see you from the time the sun cast his light upon the sycamore trees, to when he dimmed the valley and went to sleep. I was worried you would, not only that day, but every day there after, not return from the place that called to you. It excites me now that you are here with me, so I can look upon your face."

"Fear not, for now of all times. I am in your presence, but oh, it will be a short while."

"Whatever do you mean? Often you leave with no mention of it, returning in the back, back to how it was the day before. But...this was different, wasn't it?"

"Yes, misary is upon us. Sharp rocks from cliff to cliff, falling boulders if any shall withstand the pain. And if you shall avoid all that, then fire that singes our coat, and it saddens me to say that I believe it would never grow back."

"This was what you thought you must do yesterday?! Risk your life for the families of the sycamore and ferns?"

"As they can not move, yes I thought it was my duty to protect. Those males and females are just as alive as we are."

"But there are so many of them and only two of us."

"And you think that is why they should not be helped? Remember, just because we are not with the others anymore, doesn't not mean they have fallen off our earth. One day you will find them, and our children will find them, and their children will find them. For now though, you must take care of the children in your belly and make them strong." 

"Where will you go? The dark days will soon be upon us. Soon he will rise for just a short time, being tired like the rest of us. Please, you must stay!"

"I wish, oh, I wish I could. But I must go. Remember one last thing when I leave, and hold in in your heart forever. Our seperation need not be final."

Free Project

Two Books

Two books.
One for what happens,
One for what you wish to happen.
What if they were switched?
Would dreams become reality?
And would reality become a notebook?
A notebook you could burn.
Destroy until there is nothing left.
Shattered.
Would you take that risk?
Knowing that as you live out your imagination, you could cease to exist?

Most Beautiful Thing

If I think of the most beautiful thing in the world, my imagination can not begin to form what I have never seen. Those seven wonders of the world, that have been all the hype, do not appeal to me as much as others, but I know there's something there. In my mind I start with a field full of tall grass, with yellow flowers scattered throughout. Indian grass is also along the field, a perfect tool to play 'tree or bush' with. The field becomes surrounded by pine trees, their scent reminding me of Christmas day. Morning due glitters of the needles, reflecting the sun that is just peeking over their tops. In the middle of the field appears a girl, her worn out red woven blanket lays behind the place where she stands. Her innocence of the world radiates off her, and she looks with large questioning eyes. But behind the wonder is pure excitement, as she twirls in her new found dress. This little girl can be whoever you want her to be, each to their own. These images reflect off my childhood, although never seen together. Beauty into one, to create a peace of your heart.

Quinn Says No

Why did you say no?
Did you prefer black over white?
Was it that you couldn't dance the dance?
Or maybe you were to throw a coin at our imprisonment?
Can't you cooperate?
Maybe that was the only word you learned while you 'goo'ed and 'gaa'ed in your crib.
Grow up Quinn!
Or you will be stuck with nothing.

Cliffhanger. You are exactly as it sounds. Dangling on the side of a rock, fake or no, with only a few uncomfortable ropes to keep you safe. As you can tell this was not my favorite activity. Unfortunately, I had been invited to a birthday party and wound up face to face with my worst fear. I managed to get halfway up, but my hands became clammy and my body shook. I called to come down, but the worker pushed me on. I stared up, and prepared myself for the worst.

Once it was Just the Bears and I

Shower me with reasons of chagrin.
Avoid confusion even when tumbling down, regardless of how painful the shock.