wine from a jam jar

redefined by never was
a stranger to this history.
sweet sweat we wore
like armour,
sword and sheild
to could be.
night wounds
hurt the guilty,
rusted scars of fidelity.
leave your potential with me
it lingers, it stings.
i've written this before,
same sound, different pen.

heartcenter

there are some people that you will always recognize.

i took the span of last week to go back home. not home like my house, home like the place that shaped my person. my sense of self and purpose. (i went home to Dance)

as i had hoped, the people who shaped my person, self, purpose, also came home. and it was better.

i saw, in a small window, what i had and what i loved. and losing atmosphere and interpersonal connection is a lot like losing yourself. it took me a long time to realize that there is a mourning process for that - you can mourn the loss of familiarity, you can mourn change of self and place and people.

it's a condescending balance.
the give and take of change and resentment.


i saw it, for a few hours a day i could fool myself into thinking that nothing had changed. the delusion of familiarity gave me a profound amount of clarity that i would have otherwise assumed would set me back three years to a person a barely know.

funny thing, things weren't the same, not at all really. sure the people had grown, taller/wiser/more bitter/less optimistic, and that atmosphere was a skeleton of what i should have been - what it was.

and i am a skeleton of what i was. but that even remote recognition made me feel what i was missing, what i was looking for. it cannot be recreated, it cannot be found elsewhere it just is. was.

acknowledging that is somehow now enough. because this time i left loving where i've come from, not hating what it made me. what it destroyed for me.

so yes, sometimes people are enough;
if you let them be.

sing me to sleep

you know those times where words come so easily out of your mouth you don't dare say a word? well that's where i am - and i don't know why.

normally when i am in these moods i retreat to my front porch with a cup of tea and a pen and paper. but my porch is miles away and my inclination to put pen to paper is dwindling. though, worry not, i do have the tea.

i'm at that point where no music, whether it jo stafford or the carpenters, sounds right. where i can't even stand the titles of the songs let alone the songs themselves.

and it took me one very little movement, the slightest nudge, to get me here. maybe it's the guilt of giving up on someone who's been a someone in your life for 5+ years. maybe it's realizing you never should have put effort into him to begin with. or maybe it's just feeling so detached.

that reattaching to something new detached. where you don't know what to define as familiar and what you should recognize as different. transitions i guess.

transitions of feelings? right - that's unfair. setting your mind for something new. well old new. familiar new. that's it: calculated risks.

that's all i am. i read situations too well not to know what i am getting into. its a dance with boundaries. the fred and ginger of free falls.


(billie holiday's "misty"? a song my indecisive self can hum too? this will be nothing some corona and an audrey hepburn marathon can't cure.)

decisions are for mondays and i have just given myself a 4 day weekend to seclude all prospects of emotional strangulation.