24 January 2019

Posted on January 25, 2010


I look into my purse and see the Eiffel Tower, and I know I’m going home. My peace of mind is a river with a tide, and tonight the waves are sloshing against the rim of the glass. The air is thick and sweet and I want nothing more than sugary rain.

The dress of mine is whispering from the closet and staring into my soul with a knowing and a mystery. It holds onto my body in my dreams and sails with me into the unspeakable make-believe journeys I take in my sleep. It is my only companion and the only one who knows me and where I am sent after I close my eyes; a demi-god of fragility and innermost emotion.

I derive the most potent energy from feeling your breath on my hair and the heat from your skin as you kiss me goodnight by the white metal door.

Every day I try to weave what I feel and every night I want my eyes open. I am contentedly lost, and for fifty days I will carry a wax candle and will wait for the archer of souls.

I am not afraid.

Posted in: alive