maybe baby

and then,
(and only then)
i might let myself

photos.   

skin.

photo.    

and so they run
half naked
the waves licking
wind whipping
their legs
arms
skin.
electricity builds in their chest
collapses as laughter in the air around them
mixing with the salt,
overwhelming the senses.

flushed with their own daring
surprised by their own confidence
they expose parts of themselves to the world
that normally hide in the dark

skin
that is shy
shapes
that are concealed
colours
that are lost
they are finally revealed,
finally beautiful
no longer shadow.

but here,
atoms collide, shift, disappear
here,
anything can happen.

so instead
waves swallow them,
as they wallow in this half-world
and forget what it's like to feel
modesty.

and then
(pay attention)
the climax approaches
there's no slinking
no cowering
no covering

only running their arms by their sides
only embracing movement that is usually ignored
only flying
only freedom

this,
this is the feeling that can't be described
this is the moment between waking and sleeping
this is the part that people leave out.


afterwards
they walk back with a smile
a secret that glows in their chests
lighting up their faces
that can only be traced to their damp skin
wet hair
sandy feet

this is the feeling that can't be ignored.

yes

photo.  

Perhaps they are not stars but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through

                                                 

             -Old Eskimo Proverb

fresh air

back in a week

wanderer

photo.  

shallow breaths, mine.
mind wanders as feet do the same
slipping occasionally on thick tufts of grass
thud
my hands and knees meet the grass with a rough kiss
catching me by surprise
a gasp escapes my lips
scattering my thoughts
they are lost in the wind

breathe

photo.  

The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Relax
this is in your hands

don't worry.

it will be okay.
this will pass.
it will.
and in two years time you won't even be able to remember this.
writing this
thinking this
feeling this


you won't even be able to remember who you were.

photos.   

don't worry
because this,
this is fleeting
and soon enough
                you won't care

i'm glad it's ok

photo.  

okay,

i trust you.

let's go with your idea

I can't help feeling it will be awkward next time we see each other.

letterhead #5

photo.

Dear Meg,

This is my second letter to you.

You could already know what I'm about to tell you,

But somehow I don't think so.
Despite how confident I sound in my previous letter I wasn't sure it was you.
I thought maybe it was someone else,
Maybe I was making things up,
After all- a lot of people like frozen raspberries.
But tonight you cleared all doubt.
You have a blog, with 18 followers, you've been on it a year.
You signed a comment recently with your real name.
But most importantly, tonight you said you wouldn't want me reading your blog.
Wouldn't want me following your blog.

Sorry it has taken me so long to tell you.

I guess I didn't want you reading my blog,

Knowing it was me when you did.

But that only reinforces the point that I should be honest.

At first I wasn't sure what to do,
But I think I have the solution.
We stop following each other.
Stop reading each other's blogs,
Which sucks because yours is one of my favorites.

I don't want to force you to stop following mine but

How can I post everything that's going on if I'm afraid you'll judge me?

Afraid you'll tell someone or interpret it incorrectly?

This blog is the equivalent of my diary, of counselling,

It's everything I don't tell my friends.

I guess I'm taking the easy way out.
I really admire your writing.
I haven't breathed a word to anyone and I promise I won't.
Please do the same for me, no matter what you read or what you've read.

And please don't stop posting, I would be so upset, feel so guilty.

I even considered not telling you because I didn't want you to feel like you couldn't use blogger anymore.
And now you've left tumblr cause people are reading it.
I'm sorry I screwed this up for you.

I've already read all your posts so it's okay if you do the same.

But, please don't utter a word.

Please.

Thank-you for being so nice to me when I started.

Fair's fair.
I thought I should tell you on our own turf.

It's Grace.

la vérité

photos.  

here we go again
with your false hope and my reckless promises
your meaningful looks and my empty words
your beliefs and my aversion to changing them.

the storyline's the same we just rearrange the characters