CIV

Falling asleep to your pulse against my cheek.

Rhythmic and sure.

And your breathing is steady.

And now I can't breath.

For fear of disturbing that peace.

[Image Kate Moss via Pinterest]

CIII

And now I breakdown in the Woolworths carpark. Because every word you say is gemstone, and moments worth their weight in bronze just breeze me by.

The moments are so few these days that I cry before I hear the end tone, and only just does my whisper mask the catch, and only just do you miss the sob, and only just have I trained my throat to quell the sobs. I look around for strangers who might look on, but even then I couldn't stop the rolling and even then I couldn't stop the shudders. And thats a lot for me.

I'm usually quite good at keeping it together.

I don't know about you but its all been a bit much lately. I don't know about you. That's the truth and it hurts. I don't know about you do you want me to? I don't know about you but the moments are so few these days and one day I'll break before the end tone. And then what will we do?

I'm usually quite good at keeping it together, but we're not right now are we? So neither am I. Every word you say is gemstone. Is that what makes me feel so heavy?


[Images Lena C. Emery]

CII

Today is a good day
My breathing is light.
It won't always be this way
I am sure.
Tomorrow, or the next day
Or a moment between
Clouds impend over the skyline
But they do not stay.
Perhaps they pour, or sprinkle
Cast shade
Perhaps they simply blow away
And I look up at the heavens marked by passing time
And I shout, "It's marking me too."
For it is
I am sure.


[Image via Pinterest]

CI

 

Is this not the greatest thing?

[Images Nicole Trunfio Instagram]

C

The long walk from 'what will people think' to 'I am enough'.

We've lost our plausible deniability for not thinking about these things deeply.

Knowledge is not just something you can move across the table.

Poetry, it goes all the way through you. 




#100 dedicated to thinkers I admire, and things I know to be true.

[Words Brene Brown, Michael McCullough, Michael McCullough, Mary Oliver; Image Pinterest]

XCIX

Whenever I feel I don’t have enough hours in the day (quite worryingly often), I consider the fact that somewhere in Europe, or perhaps the America’s, it could still be yesterday. And if i can imagine myself there, I can imagine there being more time. I can picture the condition of the weather outside, and my far more placid mental state. Such momentary escapsim is also momentarily comforting. If only I could take all of my world on that mental journey with me. Maybe I’d meet more deadlines punctually. Maybe I'd never come back at all.

[Image by Helmut Newton]

XCVIII

“I love you,” she whispered, without a hint of doubt or shadow of regret.

“I love you, I do.”

“I love you more than I have words to say; more than there are words to say.”

“To the ends of my being, and with every stumbling beat of this gentle heart…”

And now she stopped, and caught her breath, and put down her pen.

“I love you,” she whispered, with the utmost certainty, and tore every one of her precious words apart.

Because loving isn’t enough, and loving will never be enough.

Love was her escape, and Lord knows it couldn’t last misuse in that way.

First, to face her demons, and then, to love…

“I love you,” she whispered, “… I love you. But loving you just isn’t enough.”

[Images via Pinterest]

XCVII

'Love is free and time is fleeting.' 

Maybe that’s why real love is so rare; so fragile. Because imperfect people make imperfect decisions, and in the blink of an eye a person can choose not to love. Not to feel. Not to acknowledge. People make that choice everyday – and lives are changed, homes are broken, walls are put up and lifelines shut down. I do not wish to be one of those people. Love isn’t fleeting in the sense that a breeze is fleeting, or a flash of lightening. It is momentary, in that we make the mistake of loving only momentarily. Love exists. I know that it exists. It exists when I cause it to exist. It exists when I give it life, and action, and voice. It exists when I acknowledge it and when I nurture it. It exists, more so than anything else this world has to offer. Love love, because it is so precious. Make it your flag, and wave it.

[Images via Pinterest]