I am trusting you with more than my body.
I am trusting you with more than my breath.
I am trusting you with my submission, my will, my place.
I am trusting you with the space between who you are
and the dominant you are still becoming.
Distant dreams of love stretches across the miles like an unseen suspension bridge,
A fragile connection binding souls separated by distances wide,
This longing lingers heavy, like a mist, shrouding every thought,
Life is suspended, caught between highways and heartbeats,
Voices echo softly in the phone wires, reminders of what once was,
Each whisper carries the weight of dreams waiting to be realized.
Fully, Completely
You say my name like a half-remembered tune,
a song you hummed while locked in a trunk of a rusted-out car,
windows down, cigar smoke curling like ghosts,
before distance rewrote the chorus,
before we forgot what the verses meant.
A pine tree scratches on the roof, echoes in the night,
Snow blankets the cabin, but my mind is full of fright,
Every whisper of the wind sends panic through my veins,
Is it them waiting in the dark, or just my restless brain?
Scratches On The Roof Read More »
Poetry
A dominant stands like a lighthouse on the shore,
strong and unwavering against the shifting tides,
its beacon cuts through the darkest storms,
offering a steady guide for the one who sails,
never forcing, but shining the way forward.
A Lighthouse On The Shore Read More »
Poetry
They do not lie to shield your heart,
The truth would tear their plans apart.
The lies are told to keep control,
To shape your choices, guard their goal.
In the quiet of the office, a glance, a harsh command,
Two souls entwined in silence, where power takes a stand.
The scent of red ink, the rustle of the pen,
Where the line between desire and restraint is drawn again.
Beyond the Secretary Read More »
Poetry
Out here, we are the edge of somewhere and nowhere,
The last stretch of stateside before the river runs south.
This town clings to the border like it forgot where to go,
Like we are all half-waiting to cross over, but never quite do.
The highway bridges at the water’s edge,
Where only the brave or the lost take that final step.
The little things build the deepest trust,
Small actions, soft words, never just a must,
A touch, a gaze, a quiet command,
Creating feelings, as if by hand.