one thing I can tell you is that I love the texture of a good pen
the feeling of the scrape, or glide, against the grainy paper
the sound of scribbles, etches, curves and swirls
the simple joy of writing filling me with desire to fill the page
doodling for the sake of seeing how the ink flows
journaling for the sense of letting it out
pouring myself out deliciously via pen
I must be learning the a b c’s again.
Baby steps to figure out what love is like.
A – a kiss. How do you kiss someone you feel no emotional connection to? Not like you.
B – boy. A different one every so often, they come and go. None make me feel as you did.
C – cupid. Suddenly hit. Not sure if I am ready for this – again.
Who is playing with my heartstrings?
life gets weird,
love is strange,
we write words
to feel sane.
it’s been too long
i’ve been thinking about you
do you think about me
as often as I dream of you?
time has passed
but you’re stuck in my head
as if you’ll never leave
hopefully I’ll move on instead
it’s been too long
me thinking about you
and pretty sure
with me, you’ll have nothing to do.
sat in bed with a cat on my lap
reading a book – or deciding whether to nap
alone in my room, just me and the cat
calm and quiet, nothing can compete with that.
as the years pass, I wonder and ask
if anyone in life will be up to the task
of standing next to me, for all to see
a relationship – a “you and me”
after many nights
a few good fights
we’ve arrived where we’re at
next to you
sat in bed with a cat in my lap
I don’t want to write a love song
and it turn out to be about
you.
Everyone has a story to tell.
He told me his,
and I told him mine.
Until they intertwined.
what would you do,
to go back in time?
change a single thing,
create a new rhyme.
what would you do,
to go back in time?
would I be yours
would you be mine?
what would you do,
to go back in time?
to fix the cracks
and walk the line.
what would you do,
to go back in time?
lift the dark
a light, you shine.
what would you do,
to go back in time?
to try and try
until we intertwine.
what can i do
besides look at you
give you a kiss
if something’s amiss
what can i do
besides look at you
in the morning sun
after a night of fun
what can i do
besides look at you
in bed at night
talk it out when we fight
what can i do
besides look at you
when you make me laugh
feeling like my other half
what can i do
besides look at you
my heart sings
as you slide on the ring
what can i do
besides look at you
morning, kissing you
one more thing to scratch off the list
to-do.
vulnerable, vulnerAble
the same in french and english
universal fear
of being
open.
afraid to show ourselves to another,
we cut ourselves off.
put ourselves in tight little corners
small little boxes
cut off the strings
that tie us to one another.
i can’t bear it.
i can’t breathe under the weight, the pressure
the fear of being judged.
so i protect myself.
i distance myself.
i tell myself little white lies:
you don’t care, you don’t care.
so that, if it turns out, that you
do not care.
it will be something i can
hopefully bear.
One Page, One Day Writing 