Left untended...

How many blogs do you think are out there that are left like a garden in an old house? Well, I can say that mine has definitely been that way for awhile. Too often I get the urge to write and sit there with my hand glued to the DVR remote. Tonight it was just too strong to resist. Not to mention that all of my Greys Anatomy has been watched and the last episode COMPLETELY struck a chord. There was this point at the end where Arizona comes into the elevator and Callie is in there and just whispers her name...almost like a sigh. She turns around and just starts to make out with her...of course, it is just days after their break up and everything is so fresh and so newly open and festering.
Is it weird that I miss that feeling? Not that I want to break up with my hubs or anything, but that RAW passion. Like you just picked a scab and its so fresh and bleeding over. No matter how gross it is, or how you know you are going to bleed, you do it anyways. Perhaps this makes me slightly masochistic, but isnt there a certain amount of masochist in all of us?
I'll maintain that I probably have more than most, seeing I come from a whole family of "pickers", but I am ok with that. I've been in love with memories my whole life. Self medicating myself on romance novels and fairy tales...idealism and dreaming are on the forefront of my mind at any given moment.
I cant help but wonder though, if sometimes i feel more than other people. How vain, right? Leave it to a 27 year old romantic to think she feels more than the average person. But MAN...as quick as I can turn an emotion off, I get caught in those moments when watching or listening to something and my heart catches in my chest. My breath is cut short and my stomach drops. Tears well in my eyes and I feel EVERYTHING either the show or the song is trying to convey. Memories flood and its almost like I have been put back into the skin of mine when those events happened in my life. And, in those short and poignant moments...I thank everything that I am, was and am to become for those experiences...because love is such a special thing. Everyone takes it for granted...you say you wont, but you do. The little things creep in and your vision of a person changes in a moment from what you have built in a lifetime. But those moments, they take you back and they make you live...Appreciate all the loves lost...all the love you have given and all the love to come.
So, whisper someones name in an elevator. Pick the scab. Kindle some of that RAW passion back into your relationship...and if there was never any to begin with? Close that window and open the door and walk out. Because, everyone can feel that with someone. It may be for an instant, but as that song plays 5, 10, 50 years down the road...it will be enough to clog your throat and get your blood pumping...FEEL.

Taken Over...

The starvation climbed up my throat-
threatening to spew from my mouth.
The greed lodged itself under my fingernails, begging to claw, to reach the wants, the needs, the yearnings.
the music boomed in my ears-
deafening me from all logic and reason-love clouded my judgement-
He bombarded my mind.

Dreams steered my heart and abandonment guided my steps.
Among it all...I was at peace.
for chaos was the blinding light that was my comfort.

~

Grains of Sand

My life went out on a limb today as the Mail Man took that letter.
My fears and dreams are in that bag, soon to be delivered.
He will read those words, but not see the tears and anguish that helped it form.
He will miss the emotion I've had to supress-
My heart that has been torn.

Will he rip it and blindly see red in anger directed at me?
Will he feel that inner girl that lives inside...that girl that few do see?

It's been four days now, since my insides were sent my that Mail Man who had no clue.
My mind wanders the possabilities that could occur when he reads those yearnings-
I wonder what he'll do.

Has he seen my writing, felt my pain and thrown it in the trash?
Or- has he closed his eyes as lost as me, yearning for the past?

I hope the day coms soon, for I can't endure it much longer.
I hope he doesn't keep silent in loss for a solution...
In all- I hope this makes me stronger.

For now I'll wait to see what is yet to be-
For Fate has an interesting plan.
I'll dry the tears and take a breath...
It's just one more grain of sand.

~

Desolation Taunted

She stared at her reflection in the water-
Desolation looked right back at her in defiance.

She smiled right back in good humor-
And, so represented the balance of her own.

She tested her laugh in the ripples of the stream,
stretched her hope in the rays of the Sun.
But, the one thing that held her in perplexity was the world that held her home.

Home was a foreign word-
One of those tales that began with, "Once upon a time..."
A place where families ate regular dinners at a table and not a T.V.
Where dreams were talked about and encouraged.

Dreams she kept to herself-
Dreams wee the fuel to her fire, the kindling of every day life.
Dreams here her home, a place that warmed her when the cold reality caused her strife.

She stared at her reflection in the water-
Desolation tainted her smile.

Hope won out in the end-
For it was what caused her to travel that extra mile.

~

Never Empty...

I dreamed I was experiencing starvation.
My mouth no longer salivated upon thought.
My stomach no longer rumbled at smells.
My mind no longer yearned for sustenance.

I was dreaming of emptiness... emotional emptiness. And, the only thing that kept me living was the hope that seared my cheeks in the form of fat, warm tears.

I awoke gasping and I vowed never to be empty. Life filled my lungs and I drifted...

~

Traffic of life...

Life is a destination... amid to's and fro's, stops and go's-
Caught u in the turbulence of traffic. Crashing the emotions screech upon you. Yielding, the cautions creep to the lights that are awareness.

Life is a fabrication... amid truths and untruths that break upon me like the crashing see.
Let myself be caught up in the tide? Or, float upon the shore like a soul that is lifeless and has died?

Dreaming is a world that holds comfort,,,is that the floatation device that keeps me breathing?
There is a distant star among the clouds that is my focal point...My life's destination.

Can i make through the fabrications and hindrances to be the woman I know i can be, or will I be weighed down a thousand screaming souls clinging to nothingness and sink irresolutely into the void?

Truths left untold can only tell.

Heres to the stars...

~

Questions

I did mention this is a younger me, right? If you are just tuning in, I am posting old poems and such from a journal dating from 2000-2005. Although younger, if i do say myself...i was quite introspective. HA. But... on to the poem:

Life is full of questions and let downs,
Rises and falls.
Do we all posses the ingenuity to pick ourselves up after every fallen plateau?
Can our smiles be so eternally ingrained in our daily routines that people no longer know when to hold out their hands?
Complications are more comfortable than happiness.
People come and go - so the saying states, but is any one person willing to hold on tight to those they don't want to let slip through their fingers?
Is fate a word everyone believes and lives by?
How can a clock run every life known to God?
Where did the simple things go?
Love...
Laughter...
Hope...
Life is full of questions...
Does that mean death is full of answers?

~