I Am Laying In The Tall Grass On A Cloudy Afternoon The Air Is Still, The Grass Does Not Blow In The

Let me revel in these Small doses of sadness In their warmth, In that quick, biting Shot before blurriness

I find myself a sponge In a hot bath, soaking, Letting sadness fill me Until I become heavy

But in the small doses Measured in spoonfuls, In small bites, I cozy up with sadness Carrying it in my body

I am just the winter air Freezing a downy bed I'm a thousand snowflake pairs Crushed beneath a sled

Sometimes I'm a bitter chill That nips atop a balding hill I am more than winter air I'm dark days ahead

Come to me asking for love And I will lay you down in the Forest clearing Sun through the branches Slivers of gold, tiny trickling rivers Like goddesses over your skin. Here it is, I will tell you Here in the damp grass, on top Of the mossy rocks, softness I can't offer that anymore Though I want to Gaia, please take it from here

Here is my hand. Hold it, touch it, embrace it. The hand that reaches out for you Is a solid hand, a steady hand, A writer’s hand, A lover’s hand. It is your lover’s hand.

The hand you hold Is the hand that holds you. It is the hand that dries your tears, The hand that grazes your lips, The hand that is gentle with you, Strong with you, Passionate with you. It is the hand that is with you.

My hand feels you. My hand feels your heartbeat, Your breath, Your tension, The heat of your skin, The release of your stress, Your desire. It is the hand that desires you.

My hand alone sometimes trembles. Sometimes it is lost, Sometimes it is scared, Sometimes it’s unsteady. My hand is cold without yours, My hand needs yours to grab, Its fingers locked between yours. In your hand my hand is safe. Your hand is safe in mine.

Your hand is my hand, And mine yours. Where your hand goes Mine goes too. My hand goes with you. My hand is always with you.

Do actions really speak louder than words? If so, my actions are to Put pen to paper, to share, to express What I otherwise could not unscramble in my mind.

The action of showing you my heart, A glimpse into my private sanctuary; That is a commitment I could not Match with gestures or tangible doings.

With each letter I unfurl What I've hidden deep within my proverbial soil, Unraveling all my coiled roots and Rebuilding myself piece by fragile piece.

Maybe from words we can take away this: I am crafting, I am weaving, I am building a solid foundation upon Which all my intentions have the space flourish.

My grief feels large and heavy I have cried into buckets And now I am carrying them Around like a punishment

I can't let go, I refuse to I am tied to these burdens Rope raw against my skin For now I need this anguish

And I need you, the source of it Because I am crying for you For the inevitable absence of you I feel it so strongly already

I can write about love I can write about birds and cats And the movement of water

I can write about solitude About the comfort of silence And have it all mean the same thing

Christmas to me is a quiet warmth Background music, spicy candles, My favorite blanket at home.

A comfortable kinship with family, A respite in celebrating alone.

I untangle with the string lights, A gentle glow I feel deep in my bones.

Christmas is a gift I unwrap slowly, With delicate hands and a softer tone, These silent nights are all my own.

I grip the windowsill too tightly As the dark clouds pour Heavily over an angry ocean Crashing, spraying, flooding Lightning strikes again, again! It's a storm, it's raging, and it's

Too loud! Too loud! Too loud!

Then you tap on my door You slip into my mind And everything else is on mute

They say no man is an island So I am no man I am merely made of sand In an unknown ocean I am just a bit of land

Anyone can visit me As long as they don't stay Or they would be deserted too So after a couple of days I would have them washed away

On my island there would be a tree My only bit of company I am happy to be alone With the salty breeze Over the island that is me