me and night

Mind and soul. Writing around the Themes of my Mind.

I reblog and answer asks at: mwtnreblogs.tumblr.com

We think we’ll be young forever. Then we wake up old, feeling our young hearts beating in our forever young minds and we don’t know what to do.

After midnight mass

Slight touch brings forth combustible feeling
Leaving stand up hairs poised electric

From gentle hearts come beats on the heels of dreams
And dreamers are worth speaking to

From finger tips to examples of love making, peeling
Back the clothes is necessary as clocks go tick

Continue touch, elongate feeling, as a lover weans
Off the others static matter, electric as the lightening blue

Evaluate

Evaluate my coming and goings
Foot steps bank my hearts content

Riveting, revolving, parameters
Concerned with unconcerning matters

Evaluate my evolution as woman, me
Define my existence against my beating pulse

Solidify, favor, foundation
Softly express a real explanation

Evaluate my fine motor skills
Dictate the delicacy of my finger tips

Solely, wholly, bravely
I’ll pull you out of maybe

Evaluate the possibilities
Evaluate the possibility
Evaluate the possible

Evolution is off the charts with fuckery.

Summer warm, blood cold

There are moments in the sun that remind me of the summers yet to come. The ones I’m holding on for.
The touch of warmth that shoots straight for the heart and melts the blood frozen there.
Deep breath to inhale the moment, to stand still and feel its pulse.
Weak, I waver at thoughts of being lost from the warmth again.
Weak, I handle what battles form with everything I’ve got left.
If you’re going with me, take my hand but ready yourself to catch me when I fall.
Because fall I will, without warning likely.
That’s just what happens when your foundation is crumbled and haunted.

GD. FML. My BF is in the same room as Quintin Tarantino  and I’m stuck in my house with my wine. 

lemon

I bought a car and your answers aren’t doing me justice.

I put together thoughts that make believe you were right

to say I told you so.

I thought about an infinite number of ways to put up a fight

and you tore them all down like a majestic, knight in shining

not so armored jeans and a t-shirt.

What have you, you won and I’m walking to work

with a bag in my hand full of excuses to remember

the reasons why you love me.

Can’t is a failure for Can to dance on

What I cannot do is forget the sound of babies left on church doorsteps.

What I can do is move forward knowing that I didn’t do that to you.

What I cannot do is let go of the moments that I lost because I live the life of a fool.

What I can do is laugh at the faulty foundation that holds me and you up in the revolving game of life.

What  I cannot do is imagine a difference in my life before or after the moments that changed it.

What I can do is create a future with moments that I live in today and remember that each movement is one toward tomorrow.

What I cannot do is forgive myself.

What I can do is love myself.

What I cannot do is remember times of happiness like the ones of tomorrow.

What I can do is think upon the mistakes and heartbreaks of yesterday and learn from them.

What I cannot do is stop living.

What I can do is keep going.

A paragraph of a memory on love.

I can close my eyes and feel our kisses, the swirl and press of your tongue to mine. I can feel the rhythm of your heart like when I press my hands to your chest, we’re barely breathing and what we are is inhales of each other. Warmth.
I open my eyes and blink into the sun. Warmth.
The feelings imitate each other like a child contemplating his reflection in the mirror. Natural warmth from our sun star and natural warmth from loves sensation.

Breathing songs

What hold I let you have on me

What control I share with you to be

on a path that leads beyond the night

and into the planetary guiding light.

What songs I let you write for me

What lyrics do I sing for you to see

that we are going to make believe

this comfort is not going to leave.

I bear arms and you bear soul,

I breathe out and you inhale,

You exhale and I breathe in

we play games and switch the role

that made us want to have a chance

at the balancing act, choreographed dance.

Small stories

I’m feeling the explanation of small town semantics.
Flighty and tied down at the same time
Like only yesterday we wanted to kiss the wet pavements
Under a misty moon while dreaming beyond the stars.

I’m returning to hold your hand, I’m returning to face
Another sun lit afternoon dragging our feet across
Miles of fields, chaining their way through the back yards
Of future weepers and yesterday’s explainers.

When I say I love you believe it was written like a
Scribbled number across a napkin at the diner.
It’s the sender who would be the caller if either
Had a choice in the matter, but the futures up to money.

Roots aren’t set in a day, trees take time to grow.
We aren’t planting seeds where the soils dry.
You’re running past the boarder line and I’m chasing
After you only to catch your fall.

Play time

mewiththenight:

Rolling in oh my god—where are the devils playing?
I’m dancing in the fields, the sky line glistening like cum
Fresh as a mother, pasty as the backside
You’re going to run when you’ve got everything to hid

I’m jumping in piles of what was aftermath only to fall over
And drum upon the path…

Shorts on love: Breathe

mewiththenight:

Fall in love like a song and you’re high. Roll back from your knees, arch your back and you’ll fly. A breath is a moment we can’t hold onto. Watch it dance across the room and float on.

You’ll experience a trip when you rotate around vision and fall back, hips and lips and tumble over what we’re…