My words are a direct reflection of what is being played out in my mind. For artistic purpose and dramatic effect I have duct-tapped the "edit" button…
An occasional flash - lightening rod memories With a touch of blue/red blood dipping From my sleeve to the wood planked floorA reminder that this girl is not immune to heartache Flowers fill the spaces with the scent of lavender and lily of the valley Sprinkled throughout my hair with a crown of baby's breathAs …
twilight clouds roll in wind is a lull but not enough to keep the angst at bay or discomfort within my own skin cutting like a knife to my core slip knot hanging from the rafters and what was worn on my sleeve like a badge of purity faith and honor has been severed and …
Fair winds following seas shouted from the deck and I do another lap around the proverbial widows walk Although these days it isn't so much a part of the grieving process as it is a reflection of my own personal ups and downs ...and it is a safe place to burn Time has no sense …
What will it take to push past the moment where all my thoughts are tangled and memories, images keep weaving between tears and anger? there is no rational; truth or lies that can change the outcome the place I've landed is foreign to me uncomfortable, unprotected and roaming in the wilderness of ambivalence and uncertainty …
Evening falls, surround sound lull with the slightest hiss and rattle Background ambience for the weak; the feeble and absent minded The full wolf moon is on the rise A soothing vibe transports me into a trance-like lovely sleep Somewhere in the upper level; reminiscent of a sky in a da Vinci painting Glorious and …
Baby blue sky, clear with wisps of feathery clouds The temperature has dropped like a stone; As the ribcage bends to accommodate the chill in the air It runs up the spine reminiscent of the touch Cold hands - a lovers deception It's not just the weather It's a state of mind When the heart …
Deep breath in; now, blow, blow, blow Reluctance sits uncomfortably in the middle of my chest my heart beat skips and races like a petulant child and each day moves me one day further from the source of my discomfort, lack of intuition, sense of betrayal and loss I ponder less and less what was …
“Yet each man kills the thing he loves By each let this be heard Some do it with a bitter look Some with a flattering word The coward does it with a kiss The brave man with a sword” ― Oscar Wilde “Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound …
1.1.1.1. flashing retro orb lights from the past disco ball spin off and somewhere out there in the abyss of bullshit and reflections simmering off the cuff comments and intentions are flying high touch down no return choices made one on one excised from the heart like cancer from the soul scarred and somewhat tattered …
Trilby Yates 