when will this flower die?

Her hair has grown longer since the last time you saw her. But the smell is the same. Oh, how you've missed that smell. She fills your arms in a long awaited embrace you wish would never end. But it does, and the cold replaces her. She looks at you and smiles. It's the smile that melts your insides, but you keep your composure. She's been fine and so have you. It's apparent that both of you can carry out happy days without each other, but here are these reunions that feel fantastic. And the fantastic feeling is yet again followed by weeks of happy days without one another. This works for you both, but in the back of your minds you're both wondering what will happen with it all. These meetings will eventually end, but the cause is what's in question. Time, other people, other places. Perhaps they won't end. But I suppose we won't know today, and probably not tomorrow, nor the next day. So we'll wait as we have been until something happens.

where are you?

Today I mailed the love letter I wrote to you.
Postage? Oh, no, there wasn't a need for that.
Well, I sent it by a red balloon of course.
How else should one mail such a thing?
What do you mean you won't get it?
Well, yes, I suppose there's a good chance someone else will find those floating feelings, but we both know what the letter said.
You don't have to have read it to know, just look in these hazel eyes.

love lost.

It's been a while. I feel different than I used to. I'm happy. With myself, that is. And that's where I wanted to be. Well I'm here now, and I feel great. But will that become a problem? I'm so comfortable with myself that it seems I'm not letting many people in. Relationships. What a complicated element in life. The love one mostly. Love left my life almost a year ago, and I haven't seen it since. The traditional, romantic love, that is. I love a lot of things, but a male companion is not one of them. I would like to start that up again. I used to hate not having one, but that's definitely changed. But where is this man? I don't think he's close. There have been potentials, but there's always something about these guys that doesn't feel quite right. Even the smallest thing can ruin it all. I can't really reference an example, because there's a sure possibility that my mind's creating these quirks. It's probably a combination of my mind and a slight incompatibility. So I think about this, and conclude every time that there's no real action I can take to solve this. Maybe I don't see it as a problem? No, I don't. And I always figure that my ideal man will come around eventually. If not, then, I guess I'm just stuck with myself, which doesn't seem so bad.

People.

I need to get away. These people are just overwhelming. But where can I go where they cease to be? It seems there's no where with a realistic chance of getting to. I keep to myself during these times, which seems to work alright.

Today I witnessed two "people" stoning turtles. Turtles who were quietly sitting on their half drowning tree like they do from day to day. People. That word has a more negative connotation to it than animals. What kind of species are we that some have nothing better to do than harass turtles with rocks? More importantly, why do people like that walk this earth? Stupidity levels are way to high in the human race. The worst part is that we continuously make it easier for these beings to survive. Catering to everyone's incapabilities. Mind you, I'm not considering myself a perfect being, but never would you catch me at the scene of rocks and broken shells.

I later come home to my apartment. The outside is starting to look more like a waste bin every week. An empty jug of orange juice occupies a parking space. The dumpster is no more than sixty feet from any of the occupants' doors. People. I'll pick up the rubbish myself just to obtain cleanliness for a couple days, who else will do it? The majority of faith I have in people is that they won't fail to continue fucking things up, they never do.

back home again

The train's been still for an hour now. As everyone's wondering what's holding them up, I'm wondering if you can see the same side of the moon.

I finally pull into the driveway of the old house that's hosted eighteen years of my life. Thoughts of you temporarily subside. I set my purse on the floor next to the leather love seat and my overweight, yet handsome cat stretches his body across it, as if keeping me from leaving again. I smile at him. I missed you too.

Familiarity proves comforting, and I begin collecting things to bring back to my new home.

Old pictures. Memories that can never escape. Moments that can never be erased. Time has no relevance to the people staring back at me. The childhood images take me back to days of laughter and pure happiness.

Those days left me long ago. The days of innocence, naivety, and oblivion - gone. My imagination will never be as splendidly irrational. Rational thought has become a gift...or burden? Both. Because of which, I snap back to reality.

I come back to Lampasas now because it's old - old and familiar and comforting. I come to bask in my barefoot, play-day past, to get away from the present life I lead with rational thought. My mind that was once run by endless make believe has been corrupted by time. But that's life.

The stars shine with a "welcome back" gleam that lets me know they're glad to have me back. They always shine brighter in Lampasas.

father of mine

Sitting across from my father on the boat, I notice just how much time has changed him.

The clothes he wears match him well, and their holes have stories to share. They’ve been with him for years, and won’t soon be thrown out. Baseball caps mask his balding head. His remaining deep black curls have faded, some even to grey, the same shade as his scruffy beard. A front tooth was lost from years of tobacco chewing, and his bottom teeth seem more crooked than before. It's difficult to see he's missing a tooth unless he smiles big, and in those moments it doesn't really matter that he is. When he's happy, everyone's happy. His hands are hard, callused, and worn from stone carving, but they still hold strength tight and can still hug tenderly. Years in the shop have given him a perpetual dusty appearance. While he stands from dawn to dusk carving stone, time carves age into his olive skin. But time has over looked his soft eyes. They're as blue as the bonnet flowers on the road side, and proof that youthfulness once resided in his tired body. Even with all of the aged imperfections, he’s still handsome. I love you Daddy.

dreams and memories

I had a dream of you last night. You kissed me, and I kissed back. I had forgotten the feeling you get when you kiss someone you like for the first time. I'm glad I remember how that feels now. Of course, I have't really felt it since October, but I remember that there is such a feeling. It's something to look forward to again.

i'm the best friend that i have

I'm slowly beginning to realize that the only person to depend on in life is myself. Once I become completely comfortable with myself, life will be easier to live. Maybe not easier, but at least it will have more direction. People too heavily base their lives on the relationships they have between other people. Human beings are not the only things on this earth. I can more easily relate to the blooming tree outside than most of man kind. We're so absorbed in ourselves that we forget about the rest of the world. Open your eyes.

is it even home anymore?

Should I find it sad that you don't hold anything for me anymore? There's no reason to go back. There's nothing there for me anymore - except memories. You were once my home, but I can't stand you anymore. We had a good bond when it lasted. You raised me to be the person I am today. It's just ironic how that person doesn't want to stay. I'm sure you understand. I spent eighteen years of my life with you, and I can't honestly claim that I don't miss you sometimes. But as we all know, people change. I need to get out and explore this world we all share. You served as a good starting foundation for my life, but now I'll say, goodbye my friend.

less than perfect storm

The lightning translates to static on the radio. I watch from the back seat of the truck as it illuminates the dark sky. I'm reminded of the lightning party we held in the park last spring - to think it's almost been a year.

I long to be out of the truck with my back on the ground, looking into the darkness. I won't need an umbrella, let the rain drops soak my pale skin. I'll wake to the early sun light drying me, warming me back to life.