Category Archives: Introspection

It begins

I live it

I breathe it

And now it’s all I want to do

 

I thought for a while

How do I explain it to everyone?

Then I thought,

Stop thinking and start writing

 

And that’s all I do these days

I can’t explain it

I just wake up and it begins

And keeps going

Until my eyes rest at night

And even when I sleep, it writes itself

Onto my brain

And before I know it

I’m awake writing bits and pieces

Of everything I think I thought

And it begins again

And again, every day

 

And each time I doubt everything

I do

My lover’s eyes whisper

Keep going

And that’s exactly what I do.

It begins.

———————-

I’ll be writing more freely like this for a while. I find the unstructured, poetic style comforting. I find it truthful, I find it healing. I’ll be touching on all aspects of my life – Relationships, heartache, mommyhood, love, loss, friendships – openly and freely for all of you to see. I’ll use names when it’s appropriate to do so, and poetic verse when it’s not. I can’t wait to begin this raw writing approach… I guess I’ve already begun.

Now to begin sharing with you all what I’ve been thinking, feeling, realizing, and WRITING for the past few weeks. I won’t share too many details just yet — But, during my LifeofKi hiatus, I began somewhat of a personal project, and it is beautifully molding how I see and write about the world inside and outside of myself. This is my life, these are my thoughts, dreams, hopes, and fears – unguarded. All of it for you to see in the weeks to come! I’m ready to do this. I’m ready to speak about it all. I’m ready. Now, it begins. I can’t wait to hear what you think.

Cheers, readers.

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Need

It feels so lonely, growing up. I feel so alone, as a grown up. I thought I wanted this, but I don’t. Shed me of these layered skins I’ve tried on. They don’t look so pretty after all. I don’t know what I want to be, as a grown up. When will I grow up? I just want to ask questions. I don’t want to have all the answers anymore. I just want to take a hot bath in a pool of unknowns where I drown in naked surrender of the things that scare me…. Like open water. I don’t want anyone to save me. I want to choke the waters that chase my fears deep into my belly until regurgitated truths surface and my breath meets yours in embrace. Relief will hug us as I cry out my fears of growing these roots deep into yours. Breathe in me, you. If I tell you that I’m scared, is that enough to interrupt the pace at which we’ve rushed this life? You’ll always be mine…. Won’t you please let me weather this blow? Changing seasons from a young girl to a grown up. I still need time.

need post

Be patient with yourself…. It’s not the worst thing in the world to wake up and realize that you’re in need.

We all are.

I challenge you to speak up about what you truly need from life, from the Universe, from others, from yourself.

You will be heard, I promise.

 

 

This post is for Sally. Your struggle is my struggle. Your happiness is my happiness. I’ve seen the good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly — as you have seen all of mine. We may not be living the lives we had planned, but isn’t it beautiful to laugh at our naïve ways as we grow to become the strongest women we always hoped we would be? I love you, and I created this with you in mind.

Calling

Sometimes I find myself laying on the floor at weddings wresting ugly thoughts that scream at me, telling me I’m not beautiful, not worthy, I don’t deserve to be here on this Earth celebrating with wonderful people. And then I look up at tiny lights on the ceiling that are actually a direct reflection of lights within me. For the most powerful images are not those from our past, nor the ones that lay ahead; they are the voices and images that lay patiently within us. So I wrote a poem about that day, at a wedding, laying on the floor.

 

————————————————–

 

My efforts to love you

Tossed away.

A severed connection,

You put me at bay.

 

Now I find myself in a beautiful house, with beautiful people, with a beautiful spouse.

 

And I lay on the floor only to find,

Nothing consumes me like you

On the mind.

 

I look up.

I see a miraculous sight.

Colors glowing, illustrious light.

I wonder why it is you treat me this way.

Flip of the switch

We’re strangers that lay.

 

One day you love me,

I’m beautifully so

Exquisite like diamonds

Inside, I glow.

 

Yet today we are strangers

With hollowed eyes

Ignoring passion

For you,

Hear the cries.

 

Tonight I know you have left my side

Your abandon, I surrender. You win. I abide.

How long will this last? Who me? I don’t know.

The mirror shouts reflections you refuse to show.

 

This love, it is patient.

This love is for you.

Though you won’t wait for me,

I’ll wait for you.

 

I say I, when I mean we.

For I am you

And you dear, are me.

I speak to you daily

Can’t you see?

I am the light

That only you can set free.

Love me completely.

This is how it must be.

Surrender yourself

Let go

And breathe.

This you know, we both truly need.

 

Love yourself,

That’s all I will say.

That’s all I want

For you each day.

 

Look up at those lights as you lay on this floor,

It’s me, I’m calling, please do not ignore!

Get up now dear

Please lay no more.

Reach out, be brave

Now open the door.

 

I’m calling.

for me from missy

–Original Poem (original artwork created by a beautiful soul and friend of mine)–

I challenge you to listen today. Listen to the voice within. Stop for a moment. Don’t look forward, don’t look behind, look at what is calling out to you in this moment. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you hear it? It’s you. Won’t you accept this beautiful gift?

Love and light,

Ki 

 

 

Seen

Facts:

120 pounds

5’8”

Breast size is all of, well, a handful.

These sizes portray the body that carries me.

 

At the ripe old age of 24, I have seen all sizes on my body. 140 pounds during my teen years; a curvaceous 186 pounds by the end of my pregnancy; and for 9 months I witnessed a miraculous transformation as my breasts ballooned from a perky size A-cup to size Oh my GOD your boobs are ginormous! I have pimples, stretch marks, and moles. Dark circles taint the area underneath my slanted eyes, and a rather large nose protrudes from my face. These are all facts. Another fact: On my worst days I want some of it altered, other parts removed, and I welcome the thought of implanting foreign objects underneath my skin.

For years I clung to the saying: “If you don’t like something about yourself, fix it.” Fix what? I thought. The external things? Is that what ‘the saying’ is saying? Or am I just interpreting it all wrong? Since grade 4, I incessantly coddled the idea that if I alter the smudged curves and crevices on my body, I will miraculously look beautiful and feel worthy. I declared, “If I lose that extra ‘insert absurd number’ of pounds, get a nose job, boob implants, and work toward rock-hard abs I will undoubtedly be happy, cured, full of confidence and love for myself. Finally, for the first time, the worries will subside. The anxiety will fade. I will feel equal to those more beautiful than I.”

It is maddening. A fantasy. A trap. A prison of lies.

I’ll admit it though, on my worst days I want bigger boobs, a rounder ass, fewer pimples, straighter teeth, longer hair, tanner skin, god you name it. The recipe for my worst days calls for the vilest criticisms of myself. You’re pale, your thighs are thick, your ass is saggy, your stretch marks are disgusting, you have buck teeth, you’re too thin, you’re too fat, you need to ‘tone up,’ you look like an ogre.

My worst days leave me depressed, doubtful, sickeningly delusion.

As I write this, I am still 120 pounds, I stand five feet, eight inches tall, and my breasts remain, well, a handful at best. Pimples stand their ground on my face, dark circles accentuate my distinctly almond-shaped eyes, and my nose is still – how can I put it lightly? – large. The difference today? It isn’t one of my worst days. For some reason, I am not lusting after a more beautiful body. For some reason, I choose to see things a little differently.

Gratitude fills me on days like today when I wake up to a calm mind, not yet verbose, not yet powerful enough to play tricks. I sigh with relief. I am hopeful that the cunning words of yesterday will be the gentle thoughts of today. I am ready. I think. I muster up the courage to look in the mirror as objectively as possible and take in all that I see. I am gentle with myself, a tad critical, but there is no mention of a giant ogre today. I wince painfully. The thought of accepting my less-than-perfect-figure is excruciating. To take in exactly what I see without judgment or criticism?? Terrifying. The idea of accepting all that I am? Colossal.

I look. I scan. I let go, loosening the grip on everything I’ve ever known. I trace the contours of the body that carries me as eyes unknown to me reflect mine. Pimples surrender to a face. I connect the dots of stretch marks and watch as whole breasts form before my eyes. Flesh, exposed and seen, is taunted by a hungry mind, ready and waiting to pour shallow pools of imperfection into each virgin thought born. And for a moment I stand in naked embarrassment scanning the eroded shore of my body as if to say Here I am, now take this grit and wash it out to sea for good.

I give life to the ghost of fear inside as I feed its existence and it feeds on me. Yet, it is in knowing this diluted path that I choose Truth over lies.

It is a hell of a lot easier to cling to the illusion of myself, believing that I am not beautiful; I am not sexy; I am not lovable. These thoughts would be easy to befriend yet again today. These thoughts are comfortable. This path I know all too well.

Truth is… the problem is not how I look; it’s how I choose to see.

Readers, watch your thoughts. Come to know and befriend the lies that feed upon your insecurities. Yes, they are lies. Don’t believe everything your mind tells you. Believing that your opinions are the truth is the veil through which you perceive reality. Lock away each nagging thought as it arises – they can and will relentlessly fight you with each dawning sun, each hour, sometimes each minute. You don’t have to live with your illusions. Truth awaits you today… It is always there… waiting to be seen.

 

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Forgive

I’ve been thinking for a while now how I might approach the topic of forgiveness. I could write a poem with metaphors, catchy alliteration, and laughable prose. The product, at least in my hopeful writer’s mind, would be a lovely illustrative vision that dances freely in one’s mind. My fear is that the meaning would be lost on many. I think it is best that I say what I need to say with honest and raw emotions.

Honestly, my aversion to forgiveness is one of the biggest sources of anxiety in my life – and has been since I was a young girl. I am the fruitfully sponned child of divorce. A nasty, exhausting, ‘heart-pulled-out-of-your-chest-and-to-this-day-still-learning-how-to-breathe-again’ divorce left me colored with a rainbow of dysfunctional qualities. Statistics looked at me and thought, “Yep, she fits in with us quite nicely: Binge drinking, pill-popping, suicidal, teenage mother. Couldn’t have predicted it better ourselves!”  

There are days, many days, when I look at myself and think, “You pathetic fuck; get it together!” And quite the opposite, there are the occasional coffee-induced bursts of confidence that allow me to smile at my story of survival and strength. But nothing is more constant than my aversion to forgiveness. I think to myself every day, “When will I let this go? When will I let my past be my past? When will I forgive myself for all that I did wrong for so many years?”

During my childhood years, my parents were faithful providers, careful teachers, and undeniably miraculous, loving human beings. Anything my sisters and I truly needed was provided to us without hesitation. Anywhere we wanted to go, we were taken. Anything we wanted to do with our lives – productively, of course – was supported, and more importantly – encouraged by my parents.

As I mentioned, this post is about forgiveness. You might wonder: Well, what is there to ‘forgive’ when you were so clearly loved back then? What is there to be hurt about when everything was provided to you before and after the divorce? Why suffer despite the fact that your parents did everything they could for you? Why carry this burden from childhood into your adult life? Well, my answer to you is this: When a change like this takes place gradually, it is difficult to comprehend its meaning, especially for a child.

It was a slow transformation. My parents continued to provide for us, take care of us, love us, and support us. But there was a shift, a moan of sorts in my soul. An aching moan for the loss I had endured. The loss of a united family. The loss of a faith in marriage. The loss of a sure and steady foot in this world. That little girl in me lost all sense of control and all sense of herself. She was loved, yet had no love for herself. She was taken care of, but had no will to take care of herself.

I made a choice that day when the ground broke underneath my feet and tore my family in two: I chose to give up on myself.

I tell ya, I was one angry little girl at fourteen. I don’t think I blamed myself for the divorce, but I sure blamed them back then. “They fucked this up! They didn’t try hard enough. They didn’t love enough. They should have found a way. They want us to suffer. They did this to me!”  Verbal cries of ‘fuck you’ and ‘fuck this!’ soon faded and crept inward, seeping into the dusty shadows of my mind. A silent poison echoed throughout my body: “Fuck my life. Why should I give a shit? They didn’t try; why should I?

It is so easy to give into sadness and pity for oneself. Even more so when you’re a child. All you know is ‘your’ life. All you know is what YOU want; what YOU need; what makes YOU happy. I was certain that divorce didn’t ‘feel good’ to me, so therefore it must be ‘bad.’ I had no capacity for compassion, love, or empathy for my parents or anyone affected by their divorce. I couldn’t fathom it. I couldn’t attempt it. I gave up – on them, on me, on the world. I just gave up. I gave into my suffering. I fed it, every day, every hour, every minute. Like a starving lioness in search of food for her young, my suffering would pounce on any ounce of resistance. So I gave in to every emotion, to every negative thought, to every path toward self destruction.

I am still haunted by that little girl’s voice. Her fangs latched onto me ten years ago and infected me with the vilest thoughts imaginable. Her suffering is my suffering. Her tears salt my face. I carry her with me. She is a friend. She is a foe. A downright parasite, if you ask me! I hear her when I hear no one else. Yet recently I tire of her weight upon my back. My once playful strides in life are now heavy trudges across the floor, and I wonder what it will take to forgive myself in order to set her free.

I think the most beautiful aspect of childhood is the freedom to be oneself with ease and grace, without hesitation or fear. This way of life and living is free from the restraints and concerns of the ‘ego,’ so much so that the influence of the outside world is paid no attention. It was at fourteen that I chose to see a world, once so open and fresh, as a dark and hateful place. It is in this choice – ten years ago – that my life stopped. I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t know how to love anyone – myself most of all. I didn’t want to live.

So, forgiveness of what? –You asked earlier … As I said, with such a slow transition I could not see the depth and meaning of this life event. Ten years have passed now. Ten years of neglecting myself. Ten years of not loving myself. Ten years of looking in the mirror and repeating over and over: You are not now nor will you ever be beautiful, worthy, or lovable. You are broken, you are bruised, and you are worthless.” Readers, I have ten years of hate, lies, and deceit built up in my mind. And forgiving myself is the only option I have left in order to stay afloat.

Only now can I begin to feel compassion for a suffering little girl. I can’t tell you exactly what has changed or allowed me to see the necessity of freeing her. Only now can I see that she was drowning in fear, choking on the waves that crashed against her once pleasant and playful childhood. I now know that had she dived just a little deeper into the ocean and not stayed so closely to the shore, she would have found what she truly needed. As many others far more articulate than me have said time and time again, being caught by these waves of discomfort is our downfall when we fight it. Wildly fighting the undertow, we remain in the same place, allowing for fear to grow stronger and resistance to reign.

Maybe I’m at such a dark place that there is no option but to see the light. Maybe others closest to me have shown their lights upon my path and allowed for me to see the depth of my issues. I don’t know what this is – what’s happening in these moments. I think when I have these flashes of insecurity, of fear, of vulnerability; I’m beginning to see a tiny little light within. It’s not very bright, and I don’t have an eclectic vocabulary to express the vast array of emotions I feel or what is being shown to me. Really, these moments are very quiet, very still, very unfamiliar. I hear the voice of the little girl within me, yet simultaneously whispers are faintly echoed throughout. They are subtle, almost silent, but I hear them. They are compassionate and loving and momentarily guide me to feel compassion and love. It comes, and then it goes. As all things do. But I find that when this compassionate and loving feeling reappears, I begin to trust and love myself more and more each time.

I think the only ‘truth’ in my life will come when I can lay down all of the lies, the hate, the disgust I feel toward myself  – and put all of it to bed for good. I hope that in releasing this scared little girl, I will feel profound compassion and love for myself and everything around me. Perhaps that will allow me to accept my perfectly imperfect life just as it is. I’ll let you guys know when I get there. Until then, my journey continues.

I think in the end, you have to find your own way home. You have to find that place of comfort, of stillness within yourself. You must own your truth and take that first step toward healing.

My first step is forgiveness.

I hope you find the courage to take your first step too.

Cheers, readers.

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In Recovery

I am in recovery.

Aren’t we all? Every person I know is recovering from something —

A broken heart; addiction; loss of a loved one; failed marriage; estranged relationships; eating disorders; disease; depression and anxiety; foreclosure; abandonment issues – let me tell you, the list goes on. This is life. This is what so many of you are struggling with day to day, and it just breaks my heart each time one of you reaches out to me and shares your story. I feel your pain. I feel the struggle. I struggle too – you guys know this, and that is why I am so thankful I have this platform to share my story as it unfolds.

I am recovering from an abusive relationship with myself. You guys know this. It actually seems silly to say it like that – to articulate it in such a way that places me as the victim AND the offender, but this is my truth. It is the least I can give to you to show my appreciation for what you guys give to me each day. I’ll be honest; I am embarrassed to voice the terribly destructive thoughts that float through my mind just as a coy, fluffy cloud passes over a brilliantly blue, seemingly spotless summer sky. Within seconds of the clouds’ arrival, they chisel away at yesterday’s half-assed attempt to convince myself that I am worthy of anything. Sky is now grey with ash and soot – and all I’m left with are the tears that cleanse my soul. Back to square one, yet again. Confused, frustrated, angry with myself. How could I let this happen again? How could I let those innocent clouds become knives – cutting through each layer of my confidence? I bleed profusely, and my world is suddenly painted red with suffering and deception.

A fourteen-year-old Ki would have chosen booze…. Yes, alcohol was my friend at a young age. You’d never know it then. I was a ‘straight A’ student, a talented athlete, and I wore a pretty smile that I meticulously painted each morning as I awoke. Funny thinking about it now, I was never really awake. I was sleepwalking through my life. Yet, you saw all the potential in the world. I saw nothing but lies and pain. God, if I had only known then how much the world offers us each and every moment, every single day, I am certain I would not have slept for so long. You cannot sleep through life and truly live. As I think about her now, my heart breaks for fourteen-year old Ki. I carry a piece of her with me today. She’s still in recovery. I am teaching her slowly that hurt is a natural part of this life, but it can be managed and sorted through. Recovery is possible.

I recently found meditation. Or shall I say, meditation found me? For I am certain that the Universe offered it to me – crying out to me to take this opportunity and run with it. Fucking hold on tight, and run with it (I’m certain that this is how the Universe speaks – this is your cue to chuckle). A wonderful friend of mine sent me a link to Oprah and Deepak’s Desire and Destiny 21-day meditation class. Something deep within me whispered that day: This is a bit out of your comfort zone, but you have no other choice. You’ve exhausted all other options. This will be your therapy. This is where you – Ki — will rest easy. You cannot do this alone anymore. Being strong does not mean you must walk a path of recovery alone. Let this be your guide. You will not regret it. You deserve this. Yes, you DESERVE this.

And I never looked back. I have been quietly meditating since November 13, 2013. I am confident in saying that it has changed my view of this life completely. This post is not an opportunity to ‘plug’ Oprah and Deepak and sell you a CD on meditation (no, I did not get paid for providing the link). I’m telling you guys that you MUST find something that guides you in your recovery, whatever it may be. TRY EVERYTHING!! If exercise is your meditation, then get a gym membership today! If reading is where you find your bliss, then by all means get in the car and go to the nearest bookstore and stay until it closes. If going to church is where you feel your heart mends the quickest, go to the next available service – and if you’re too hesitant to try it out, send me an email and I will go with you! (Provided you are in the Midwest, USA)

Please, please, please take it from me – if you do not know your path in life and you do not know what helps you become a better version of yourself – then you must keep on trying. Dip your toes in foreign waters. Hell, I’ve tried on religion after religion; considered joining the police force (what??!); thought having a child would fix me (This IS NOT THE ANSWER, I PROMISE YOU. Children bring happiness and joy – but they WILL NOT FIX YOU); I even joined a local group of Instagrammers who share my obsession with photography, and this has worked out wonderfully for my social and mental health. My point is you must keep searching. You must keep testing new waters. Some of these endeavors will do wonders for your recovery. Some, well… just won’t. But that is the beauty of this life: You have the choice to try new things. You have the choice to overcome that which you perceive as a struggle. Release the fear. Let go of the thought that you are struggling. Recovery is positive. It is an opportunity to learn and grow. Your setbacks are beautiful because in the end, they provide you a new opportunity – a new direction – in this beautiful life.

The catch?? Only YOU can do this. Only YOU can walk your path.

As Oprah and Deepak often remind me — Moments themselves are the gifts. The journey itself, the rich reward. Find the gifts in every problem in your life. Start over today. It’s okay to admit you didn’t get it right the first time. Recovery is a second chance at life! A rebirth!

As I’ve said before, we can always begin again. I’ll be here; anxiously awaiting your emails, your pictures, your smiles as you tell me what it is that nourishes your soul and guides you toward a healthy recovery. I am with you.

And I will chat with you soon.

Cheers, readers.

Ki

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Inspiration for this post:

–The place where this little dove has flown and found a home; your heart; your love; all of YOU–

–Poet: Jules R. Ryckebusch

–Musician: Edward Maya

 

 

 

Just Be

Sometimes I think about how weird I really am.

  • Some of my best friends are people I’ve never met in person.
  • Being in a bookstore feels like Christmas morning; heart filled with joyful anticipation of the unknown. Eyes drooling over each untouched gift.
  • The smell of freshly brewed coffee makes my heart flutter. Coffee mugs, well, it’s embarrassing how much I love mugs (and coffee for that matter!)
  • I cry daily (to say the least).
  • I have too many obsessions to name: Hand sanitizer, soft pretzels with cheese (Oh my dear god), sugar, Instagram, poetry, the ocean, trees, the smell of fall, the sun…
  • There is an indescribable energy that floods my body each time I meet a new blog reader and connect with him/her on a level that far exceeds any expectation. The gratitude in my heart is insurmountable. I wish everyone on this earth could FEEL it.
  • Although I have an eclectic taste in music, I must admit that Romanian techno beats fuel spontaneous dance parties in my household, err, often.
  • The idea of backpacking through Europe and staying in hostels while simultaneously taking copious notes in hundreds of journals excites every inch of my being.
  • I’m a proud American, but the most flattering compliment I’ve received as of late is: “You’re looking rather Euro today!” (Ki heart gushing still!!)

The list goes on….

Are you getting the point? I’m So weird.

Then I stop and think – there is an honesty to my weirdness. It is pure, fresh, and innocent. It is the kind of honesty that breathes easily as it seeps from my pores – mirroring the honestly of very young children. You know, the kind that emanates from those who have yet to realize the vastness of the hurt, disappointment, and responsibility that hides in this life. Children play without hesitation. They laugh heartily in the present moment. They seek out answers with curious minds and hopeful hearts. In love with life, their souls effortlessly take flight. They dream. They believe. They live.

As the years blend – one into the next — We lose sight of this ‘zest for living’ with age. We become stale, young adults who complicate every facet of life and who spread suffering everywhere. We lose our curious spark only to make room for the desire to be like everyone else; to do what everyone expects of us; to be accepted in society. We are afraid to be happy just as we are. Blinded by fear, we forget to truly live.

Navigating choppy waters, we struggle each day to rise to the top; to be the best employee; to have the highest paying job; to live in the most adventurous city. As we climb the ladder of ‘success,’ we miss the gifts that reside in every moment – Smells that excite the senses; smiles that warm the heart; laughter that soothes the soul. We forget that loving others (and ourselves) is a responsibility and not a luxury. Instead, we are caught up in our extraneous activities and ‘To-Do’ lists, allowing the present to dissolve quicker than cotton candy in your mouth. Spontaneity feels like a foreign term. Schedules and appointments consume us – drowning us in our overworked, overbooked, overly exhausted lives. We forget the importance of simplicity. Sadly, we lose the grace of the child within each of us.

I laugh at my list of ‘weird’ qualities and gladly embrace them as I grow older. For as long as I can remember, I thought that life was one continuous struggle to be a better version of myself. I now know that life is about survival, and you don’t have to struggle to survive. Simply put, survival is existence. Exist and be who you are, right here. Right now.

Hey, I like weird! Weird looks good on me.

Embrace who you truly are. It looks good on you too.

Cheers, readers.

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@kileybw for more photos

LifeofKi is now on Facebook!

 

Bliss

Morning light splinters the heart.

Golden rays illuminate play wounds.

At least I’ll have a piece of you

Lingering on my flesh.

As if I need one more reminder of you.

 

Drunk from your scent,

I stand slowly, head spinning.

Failed attempt to match last night’s pace.

I wash you away.

 

You cuddle peacefully with your indifference.

I love the way you sleep.

Shame you’ve yet to wake.

Some people never do.

 

Your kiss, so hoppy it stings.

Feet trudge along the floor.

Heavy steps mirror the weary heart within.

Short of breath as silence kicks me to the door.

 

Is this your idea of bliss – loving me presently

Then wiping your hands clean of me?

You are a false hope for the fool that

I am.

That I was.

 

Glance back to feel you once more.

Like sand slipping through my hands,

Your eyes fade, gone, flighty as the wind.

Unrealized love.

I’ll miss you.

 

————–

 

Wouldn’t you know

The world has never seen a more sincere love?

Strangers blinded by the light within us.

At least I felt this, and lost you.

I lived it

As though true.

 

Can you say the same?

 

Does it pain you, Leave you cloudy,

Tranquility stolen, Sky no longer blue?

Laughter ringing in your ears as you reminisce;

Does it sneak up in your sweet dreams too?

 

Planes come, jetlag goes.

Our souls danced freely.

Giggles escaped from my lips.

My eyes stole a piece of your heart

That day.

 

I know you remember.

 

Years pass,

It is NOW that you truly see?

I loved you, let you slip,

Set you free.

 

This is my bliss.

Easy, let’s breathe.

So fickle your love then.

Stale no longer, thankfully.

 

Such a proud little thing you are,

Come around to me.

Happy for you,

I shall let it be.

 

Wish I could stay longer,

Give to you the sun,

Caress you once again.

Ego craving what’s left undone.

 

Take these words as my final kiss

And may the present be your bliss.

We have each other in this moment,

Forever you

I will miss.

 

 

–Original Poem–

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@kileybw for more photos!

 

 

 

 

 

In a Sea of Unknowns

I’m honored to have a second opportunity with The Easier Softer Way! It is an amazingly inspirational site with thoughts on healing, meditation, spirituality, Buddhism, recovery, and much more. It provides profound insight for those in need. I wrote a post on the power of positive self-talk and introspection called In a Sea of Unknowns. Check it out if you have a moment!

Cheers, readers!

Every new day is beautiful, you know.
Each newly passing cloud is a reminder that all things are temporary; this too shall pass – whatever it may be.
New life drinks in the warmth of the sun as it rises.
It is always there, you know. The sun, that is.
Even though you may not see it, it is always sustaining life, your life…

For the original piece in its entirety — The Easier Softer Way

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Gratitude — (Post for The Easier Softer Way)

 

 

 

Coffee

To say “I miss you”

Seems silly.

Bitter aftertaste upon my tongue

Lingering like morning coffee.

 

Speaking of coffee,

You never showed up

For that date three months ago.

My pride sits patiently by the window of that coffee shop.

 

….95 cups and counting….

 

The morning chill crept in through the windows last night

Into this awfully big house.  Awfully barren. Awful.

Empty rooms mocking the lone resident.

Faceless picture frames giggling at the bleeding heart within.

 

I needed you,

But you never came for me.

Did you get my letters?

Did your answering machine mimic my desperation

 

…and spread it like wildfire in that apartment of yours?

 

A need to hear your voice,

Yet I’d have no taste for talking.

But just to hear your voice:

Nectar of the Gods to my soul.

 

Each poem spells your name.

Driven by the caffeinated veins within,

Heightened senses,

Grandiose plans.

 

….I’ll get through to you one day….

 

You’re the only one

Who keeps me dancing.

Inspiration flowing through me,

It is magic.

 

Coffee shop dreaming.

Hearty laughter with my desires,

Shaming the thought of ‘reality.’

This is the life I’ve always wanted,

 

….right?

 

 

 

 

—Original Poem—