I’m not proud of myself for becoming like them;addicted to tiny blips of self-gratification,vacant validation.I have lamented my losses,burned countless bridges,all for the sake of self-protection.I wonder if I have it in meto see what someone offers,accept it gratefully. Then I remember.I don’t feel entitled to be a bitch,despite subjection to tinyand massive heartbreaks. Is it so…

The Opportunist

He was her first after a tumultuous marriage where touch had been rare and the newness of feeling desired, now, was welcome. She bathed in the depths of his eyes, locked with hers as they melded together, as if they had always been one. He called her “amazing”. She felt hope that maybe there was…

Soul Sounds

been coloring the creations of others distracted from creating my own stuck in my mind afraid of the pen my greatest ally dearest friend feel the waves of breath give life to words unformed inside my mind free write free flow let it all go structure unneeded rules broken this is my soul it has…


I pass winding curve after winding curve with Ray LaMontagne’s Jolene playing; one hand on the steering wheel and another holding a half-smoked cigarette. It’s Autumn and the road’s barren except for some false gold leaves glittering, symbolizing the facade we’ve become. I still can’t find beauty in this season of aged whiskey trees and…


When release came, tears streamed down her face, in an abrupt, tumultous cleansing of all the hearts she held inside, gone, not forgotten, time to say goodbye. Emily ©

Slip and Slide

November 13, 2015 Fate called and I answered to tragedy building grief overwhelming guilt still feeling boundaries instilling leading and wielding my strength shielding others briefly, until they shielded me Emily © Photo Credit: Game of Thrones


Roses remind of my grandmother’s garden, patterns on her bedroom wall, a rock ballad by hairband “Poison”, every rose has its thorn, a book by a genius, building vast worlds, fates resting on a single stem; potential for love, as I feel it now, blooming with only him. Emily ©


I cry, not tears of pain, joy that I know him, strengthened by his being, hopeful for his happiness as he is for mine. Emily ©


He’s the type sees others as they wish to be seen, patient, long-suffering, through my passionate waves. He’s a friend that hears my cries, and without prompting, holds me until he knows I’m okay to be let go; one of few I truly believe when they speak to me, a light in the dark. Emily…


He’s been away so long, she takes in each kiss and breath, each rose and gesture, subtle moments and vibrant fires, feeling the newness of mutual desire, opening places in her soul long closed, newly planted. Emily ©