It’s Blue And I Think Of You

Each morning, out of the corner of my left eye, the box steals my attention, just for a moment. I glance back to the woman in the mirror and begin the ritual called the start of my day. Shades of red, dabs of matte, outlines of eyes, a misting of the gold locks complete the routine of being presentable.

I rise naked to determine my wardrobe next. The box is again to the left, at my feet. About three feet of space that holds my youthful indiscretions, mostly joys but some admonitions. All my sentimental worthlessness squirreled away, hidden from the world, backed into the closet.

This box, my legacy of intimacies and sheltered private moments, up until my very end, will absorb more recordings of my life. I’ve said it’s my world to escape to when all I’ve got is seclusion and disease, propelling me towards the next phase of this journey. At my end, wanting to recapture the feels by dallying in the dull personal but nostalgic days of my existence. I want to revel one last time in my past, then let it all burn.

My dear friend balked when I told him my plan. He said the world should know of the events which shaped the woman the rest of the world sees. But it’s private, I said. Of course, he nodded, but it’s all the special in you. It’s the why of how you came to be. It’s the treasures kept hidden that deserve to live beyond your death.

I’ve decided to strike a deal with that dear friend. I will stick to my plan of charring all of what remains of my past should he die before me. But if I leave this planet and he’s alive, it’s my parting gift to him. May it bring him some joy to get to know the different stages of the girl I was before our paths crossed and intertwined. I’ll bet he’ll giggle, then cry.

My Angel

memories are a bitch
bubbling up
from depths
mourned long ago
tears falling
without consequence
my friend, you are missed

 

I was in my early 20s when I lost my good friend, Jerry Angeline, in a vehicle accident. His death impacted me deeply. This was our song and what triggered a flood of memories recently. It still hurts.

Beauty

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pxhere.com

some might say
serendipitous encounters
others would declare
destined connections
when life grants us
unbreakable bonds

i am humbled
i am in awe

beauty is pure love
filling in voids
never knowing
we had within
carefully caressing
old wounds

i am healed
i am alive

these moments
of connection
give us purpose
enrich and nurture
our souls
find the meaning

i am grateful
i am calm

 

Fake, Not Dope

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Presenting the gaggle, yes you.

Oh, do keep your insincerity down.

You sit and throw compliments at each other.

Faux kisses languishing in the air.

So loud as to not be believed.

You support nothing but your own agendas.

Every group has a leader who runs them.

One kowtows in silence for rewards of pleasure.

Another wants to be liked to the detriment of others.

The other doesn’t want to go against the crowd.

What a group of insincere cowards.

You spout off privately “reality, being genuine, love.” then act like little plastic dolls.

You wouldn’t know what real was if it hit you in the face.

Oh yeah, it has, but you dismiss it.

Authenticity doesn’t really fit in your group, or?

Well, fuck you.

Real people don’t hang with fake bitches anyway.

 

*Originally published here 3/21/18 

Expression

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Xaviel Lugo Arias

Inspired by FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION Challenge 5/31/19 – Art

art conveys
what the mouth cannot

visual feelings
are words come to life

the beauty in the image
convey a connection

every chance to look again
is a moment to go back to a memory

 

This piece was painted by my friend Xaviel. I adore his art! Enjoy all his work!

At Play

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A
brightness
permeates
in and around
the air. So joyous,
feeling light and free now.
Let’s enjoy this wondrous time.
Come play like in our youth again.
No one and nothing could bring us down.
Do you remember how you felt back then?
We escaped into our own little worlds.
Fantasies filled with fresh scenery.
Everything was possible then.
Rich daydreams colored our world.
Sun, fun, and games all day!
Innocent children
at play again.
I sure do
miss it,
friend.