An Empty Love Letter

Even though I don’t know who you are, I know that you are the one. At least, I imagine, that, you are the one. The person I will spend the rest of my days with. You will comfort me in my darkest hours. You will watch over me, love me, and caress me,  that is what I tell myself.

You will listen to my thoughts, you will tell me they are silly but, you will encourage all of my dreams. You will fill the void within my bed with sweetened moments of bliss and joy as you wrap your arms around me, providing  me with the safety of your embrace.

We will build memories of our shared life together. We will share our favorite memories and the bitter ones, too. Because,I will remember, forever, the first time you made me cry and how mad I was at you.

I will remember when…. but, that moment has yet to come.

I sit and gaze up at a starless sky. I I whisper to the wind waiting for an answer, waiting to hear your name bellowed in the breeze.

Instead, the wind just howled at me, wooed me away.

I think about this love that’s waiting for me. In the space far away from waking and inbetween the deep sleep is where I meet you now. A dream world where the stars are in your eyes. Then, I wake, alone, again in my empty bed.

As I lay awake, alone in the dark, I think about the moments of loneliness I endure at night.  Then, I close my eyes again, to fall asleep.  I doze off just to meet you once again in a place that’s out of reach. And in the morning, as I wake, I wonder if you dream about me too?

Eternally yours,

The Regret

We often ignore our dreams and avoid aspirations because we have responsibilities; this type of avoidance can lead to regret.  “I got bills to pay, mouths to feed, ain’t nothing in this world for free.” Far too often we push aside our hopes and dreams as we douse the passion of fervent youth when reality begins to settle in around us and we take that job to pay the bills.

Then, we comply with the rules of society and work ourselves into graves. Yup, that sums up the whole of existence. Some work themselves into lavish graves while the rest of us meander through to simple boxes in hallow ground.

What will remain of you when you die? Or me for that matter? (This post is really all about me, everything is always about me.) The progeny? Eventually that dies out too.

What will your legacy be?

Ha!

Cliché.

Personally, I don’t want any more regrets. I don’t want to say I should have done this or that I want to say “I did it.”

So I am going to say I did it.

No ragrats,” right?

I am able to say I’m writing that book and other things. In my copious spare time I am liberating the ideas locked inside while listening to Daddy Yankee’s Shaky Shaky.  My book is a contemporary multicultural romance novel and I am compiling sordid short stories with women as the central focus. My women are unconventional standards of imperfections; they’re the Kate of my mind. They embrace everything we should not be, explore the not so nice parts we like to hide while discovering the quirks and kinks that make us—well “Freak out Le freak, see’est Chic.”

Don’t fret the regret. Don’t give up the dream. Unless it involves becoming a rocket scientist when you aren’t inherently bright or really good with numbers and whatever else that sort of stuff entails. But if your dream involves learning, or visiting a new place, writing a book, becoming a ski instructor, starting a business I say try it.

And, if it doesn’t work at least you know and you can always say “I did it.”

The Soul of My Blog?

Blogging is an adventurous outlet, with an innate freedom of expression that allows you to explore the weirdest ideas that could come about. Maybe you are able to traverse the confines of your soul and release them with new words, or maybe you just write. One time I told someone they wouldn’t find my blog, to which they responded that they would. I was told they would, one day.

Then this question arose.

Why do you want me to find your blog, who said I wanted to see your soul?

I laughed a bit at this. My response was it’s really not my soul.

I never think of my blog or my writing for that matter as a way to view my soul, but today I thought about this comment and thought about my blog.

Why do I write?

I always ask myself this question and I never have a concrete answer. I write just because I like to and I think I have a way with words. Sometimes my emotions may gear my writing, life might influence the words and other times something around me just sparks the fuse of my imagination and the explosion of words erupts with a big bang (it’s usually the latter). For instance, Would You was inspired while I was at the gym and Shawn Mendes’ Mercy started playing on my Pandora station. There is nothing very deep or interesting about where the inspiration for this particular poem came from but it turned into something; it popped into my head, poof! just like magic.

I would be lying if I said life didn’t inspire me but it doesn’t always move my inner soul to reveal itself. There are times when I write these sordid tales that might make you cringe or a sappy love story at times when I might not believe in love. Then, I will shift gears and write a poem about a ghost, that’s Casper’s cousin. I may even kill someone off in a tale and smile when I’m done writing it and it’s not because that’s what lies deep inside, it’s because that’s what the muses pushed into my mind.

I’m not sure if they ever found my blog, I don’t know if they will ever read the posts but I hope they keep in mind there’s more between the lines. Writing is a part of who I am, it is a part of my soul but it does not reveal my soul. Writing for me is a journey of exploration and a way to let my imagination run free.

Beyond the Screen

A screen cannot ignite a spark that sets your soul ablaze. Those feelings of grandeur that swelter to bliss, that only happen when eyes meet entranced in a gaze; then lips collide and the warm embrace of touch flows inside.

Showered in hope, arriving in paradise-transmutation occurs; elevating you to the next level of life.

Only when that moment exists beyond the screen in real time away from the shallow halls of naive love-beyond the screen and true to life.

Love

Love falls from the stars above
To guide us through a change.

One in which our lives converge
Finding our new way.

These bodies shift into new forms
Faltering through the lust,
Then
Emerging out of sin.

Walking to the light of love,
Removing all our fears.

Without a broken heart you see
You can never know the bliss;
Of whence true love’s kiss, awakens you within.

Her Story

In reality, I never thought that this would be the path I chose.

Wait! scratch that, I still haven’t chosen a path and I don’t have a plan. Life has become a day by day existence with the occasional plot twist deprived of a climax. It’s more like walking up the side of the hill but never reaching the top.  Casually, I walk back down without looking up.

The rut of everyday life is dull. Excitement is minimal, I often sit back and wonder: When did this happen? No, I never imagined things would be this mundane. I often lay awake at night creating excitement in my mind, imagining characters and scenarios with dramatic endings— then I go to sleep.

I live in my existence longing for a difference, boredom consumes me while pleasure eludes me.

By now I imagined my life would be complete. The husband, the kids, the home, the career and I can’t forget the minivan complete with a carpooling schedule. Yea, well at least I have a cat. I think I am on my way to becoming “The Crazy Cat Lady.” I could hoard a herd of cats and let them be my friends. At this point, it doesn’t seem like a bad idea, and then when kids walk by I can scare them. I’ll run out of my first-floor apartment with my  worn fuzzy slippers and tattered bathrobe. I am sure that would be the highlight of my lonely days.

Often, well most nights…

Who am I kidding! Every night I sit at home with Ben & Jerry’s watching Friends re-runs. “Your life’s a joke, you’re broke, your love life’s D.O.A. It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear. When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month or even your year.” That is probably the most accurate description of my life and it’s in the theme song of a show I am always watching. How sad am I, reminding myself of this never-ending rut?

I forget what a love life is like. It’s been mishap after mishap and now my life is dryer than the Sahara Desert on the hottest day. The last guy took me for a spin but it didn’t work out, and I don’t even know why. Occasionally, I find myself wondering where I went wrong and then I snap out of it.

I think I don’t know how to date, my attempts at flirting are abysmal and if guys didn’t make the first move I’m sure I would still be a virgin. I have never been that girl because I just don’t know how to be her.

Oh well…. woe is me, right?

Ring, ring, ring….

“Hello.”

I can’t believe he’s calling me. I never thought I would hear from him again.

We talked as if nothing happened, even though I know something did. Although, I don’t understand what happened or why he left, but I do know that it feels right talking to him again. He triggered some weird feelings, stirred the pot and walked away as it boiled over. I am sure he meant to do that. He’s arrogant and charming all at the same time. What a jerk! but he’s so cute, smart, and well—Yes dammit! he’s packing below the waist. As women, we often lie and say size doesn’t matter. But YES it absolutely does!

I think, no, I am sure that if he would have told me to jump I would have said, “How high?” I know I sound like an idiot, but I don’t care. That man did it for me! Well, I was hoping he would do it to me!

I guess I better get ready. He said he’s picking me up tonight and I have to go get some razors just in case. Well, I am hoping that is the case.