02.21.2017

“We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.”  - C.S. Lewis 

The Coming Of Dawn

 

What should I want to say when I'm stuck in this time and place, where I'm neither here and you're neither there, and we're neither anywhere. How should I want to cry when your shoulders are no longer here to receive my tears, and your hands are no longer there to trace my broken wings. How can I will time to go by, when the past is so clear and the holdings of the future so uncertain. How should I pray when no syllables are there to utter from my mouth and fall from my tongue. Where should I go, when I have a hundred strings tied to me, pulling me everywhere and nowhere. How should I feel, when the times that I do I concave and fall apart inside of myself in the center of my sorrow. They say that's what happens when stars are born, but I am no star and you are no longer my sun. I try to talk to the moon about you but he hides beneath a cover of clouds, peeking out every so often to let me know he's still there. Still listening, though he may have no words to impart with. He sits beside my pain as I repeat my ramblings into the still darkness, over and over until they become dog-eared and faded. They flutter around me for a while before scattering upon the arrival of dawn. Soon the light will be reaching my toes and inching up my skin until I am drowning in the warmth of the sun. For but a brief moment, it is not the sun, but you, kissing my skin and bringing me back to life. I open my eyes and you're gone, the memory of you fading just as fast as it came, chasing the moon as I once chased you. I watch the stars disappear as my eyelids begin to close and I drift off to sleep, not knowing what the dawn will bring. 

Hurricane

Dance on an empty street with me; Feel the music in my bones.

Hold me tight at 3AM; Taste the salty tears christening my bed sheets.

Catch me singing along to the radio; See the worship in my heart.

Capture the gurgling laughter bursting out of me; Feel it vibrate against your fingertips dancing against my ribs.

Grasp the faint scent of flowers lingering on my skin as you push my hair from my sleepy eyes.

Stir up the fiery passion in me as you struggle to hold onto my words, trying to keep up with the electrical surges firing behind my eyes.

Feel your heart bleed as you try to understand mine.

Rip away the stitches. Open up the blinds. Break down the door. Smash down the wall I've built up around myself and I, I will show you the world. Open your palms and I will spill into the gaps between your fingers and become everything you are. You'll look up at the night sky and find the same constellations in the sun kisses running down my side. You'll feel the gentle breeze in the spring and remember the feeling of my breath tickling your cheek, escaping between the fortress of my lips. You'll swim in the waves of the ocean and envision my hair tumbling down my back, and suddenly you'll find yourself drowning in the thought of me. Completely saturated in my silhouette. I will open up my mind and speak of things you cannot understand, my words coloring the air you breathe, and running down your arms until your hands are stained. Run barefoot with me in the backyard during a rainstorm, and you'll will the raindrops to stay on my lashes forever. Let loose the storm inside of me until it consumes you, and you'll understand why hurricanes are named after people. Open up the flood gates, and run your fingers along my spine as I lay spent, too tired for words. You'll find yourself with tears dripping down your cheeks when you think I'm asleep, tracing your bloody hands on the invisible scars on my back. And finally, finally you will understand my silence.

Fire Breather

I hear your laughter but the noise gets drowned out by the blaring of the television. I look up at you and find your dark eyes gazing intensely into mine. Butterflies crash against rocks in the pit of my stomach. "What?" I ask, as your eyes continue exploring the depths of my soul. You smile and shake your head at me, gently pushing my hair away from my face. I take a deep breath as the world starts to swirl around me. The beating of my own heart begins to block out the noise and blood rushes to my head. I swallow, trying to comprehend the storm inside of me, lying just beneath the surface of my skin. I grab my glass and take a sip, the cold fluid slipping and weaving around my tongue. I sigh and look out the window at the snow beginning to fall, illuminated by the street lamp above. Your fingers brush my hand and, once again, set blazes running up my arm, consuming my whole body. It has always been you to give light to the fire burning inside my soul 

Gentle Things

I like the gentle things in life.
The curl of your eyelashes as they rest against your cheek when you sleep.
The way you absentmindedly run your fingers along the bones in my wrist when you tell me about the last days you spent with your mother.  The steady clinking reverberating through your truck as the rains soft fingers drum against the windows and we huddle on your leather seats to keep warm. The way you slowly push my hair behind my ears and feather kisses upon my brow as I cling tight and inhale the scent of you until it fills me completely. The crinkling of your eyes as you smile into my over-sized sweater when I throw my head back in laughter. The deep humming of your throat as we talk about the things we're scared of losing. My head resting against your chest and your hand on my back gently steadying the beating of my wild heart as the sound of your voice dances around me and lulls me to sleep.

The Next Seventy Years Of My Life

You taste like a sleepy, messy haired, bare toes, yawn over a cup of steaming coffee on a chilly Saturday morning. You taste like a rumpled cotton t-shirt and threadbare shorts sitting on the kitchen counter laughing at a joke I told you two days ago. You taste like a too hot latte, warming my frozen fingertips on an October day. You taste like fresh pancakes and giggles in bed. You taste like the next seventy years of my life. - D

October First

Tis the season of all things pumpkin.. Once the temperature dropped I began spending a lot of time baking anything and everything. My last creations I made were brown sugar cream cheese frosting cinnamon rolls, however it being the first of October I thought it would be fitting to post something more pumpkin related.. I was really lucky this day because I had hit every single grocery store in the area and everyone was out of pumpkin purée and I had finally found some at Harvest Foods, so of course I had to buy like five cans... You never know when the mood will strike😏

Anyway, below are a few pictures of the most delicious and moist pumpkin bread I have ever had the pleasure in making! Oh, and I topped it off with maple glaze. Can't get any better than that!