If you were to ask me to stop cleaning the bathroom and come and sit by you, I would.
I would gladly throw down this cloth, take off these rubber gloves and come cuddle up on the couch with you.
The sink can wait to be rinsed. The toilet can wait to smell piney. The bath can wait to gleam clean.
I’d forego to all, even the tiled floor, to come be by your side and let you whisper into my ear, caress my neck, stroke my forearm.
Tell me how lovely I am, and how you can’t get enough of me. That the stars have no contest when I smile. That your life was barren until I came along.
He’ll, I’d even leave the smudges in the mirror, to have you put your arm around my waist and pull me into a sweet slow kiss.
I’ve been thinking of moving to the Highlands, buying a small cottage by a loch and swim every morning.
There’s a river too, that haunts the glen, between my cottage and the mountains. I feel it, breathing within the shadow of mountains.
I know this is not just a pipe dream. I know someone who’s done it, made the move across the border, living a blessed life.
I’ve been thinking of an open fire where I’d bake bread with the sun rise and when ready sit sit out on the porch with thick slices, warm and buttered. Dripping butter and the air smelling like home.
My home.
I’m thinking there’s one village store miles away. I walk every other day for exercise. On the way, I bird spot. Blackbird, moorhen, blue tit, eagle.
Small talk with the store owner might be difficult after long moments of silence in my cottage by the loch. In the silence I can hear myself better.
Being a water woman and a mountain woman, I will welcome the solitude and the haunting rolling out before me as nothing would hold me back.
‘This year is gonna be about me. Never will I ever have a reason to doubt me.’ – Emily King
This year is gonna be about me, I’m gonna turn the tables, feeling all the feelings. Or maybe numb it out?
Car horns honking through the open window, sirens cutting through the heat haze, YouTube chatting while they play Mario Party, with the aim to lose. The only time when coming last makes you a winner.
I don’t wanna leave but this year is gonna be my year. I’m gonna love the music I love and I’m gonna love the words I love, words that open up worlds, one word at a time, each word moving further away from you and your crippling crap.
This year is gonna be all about me. Never am I gonna waste my time again trying to get your attention. I’m giving me all the attention. Chicken salad and all that stuff. Mayo too. Because nothing is off the agenda, for me, this year.
This year is gonna be me travelling and enjoying the experiences, alone and whoever comes along for the ride. You better have a ticket to ride as we’ll be crossing hostile borders and encountering enemies within. So you better be down for some deep shit, some deep emotional shit.
This year is gonna be all about me and no never again am I gonna doubt me and what I’m capable of. I’m allowing the cool breeze to caress the hairs on my arms and just breathe into the moment, budding into bloom.
This year you’re not gonna be able to handle this honesty, this raw heart of love and pain, again and again.
Weathering to shine through.
This year is gonna be all about me. And never again am I gonna double me. I’ll have no reason to, as I’m gonna shine through.
i try to connect beauty using words as healers of possibilities from the state within, the voice, a teacher, a sage, where my poetry winters, where I can see the ‘I’ like a clearing through the trees, where imagination lingers inch wide mile deep, conjuring for change and connection. i try language, not to trick or demonstrate my intellect, but to spark simple, stretching blossoms into ‘we’ rather than ‘them and us’. from the state without, i’m a beast, caged and muzzled. swallowed. cornered and supposedly cowered, i come out writing, wading into dangerous waters, owning my imagination to practice potential futures.
*“An ars poetica poem is a poem examining the role of poets themselves as subjects, their relationships to the poem, and the act of writing.” —Poets.org
Laughter and fun, with trust and communication, honesty and commitment but not in a heavy sense but much love and affection and respect and joy, I spent a long time in a relationship that wasn’t joyful and really what’s the point, life’s too short to waste time and energy on people who don’t treat you right or who aren’t happy in themselves, I want to be with someone who makes time for me and us, just like I make time for them and us, hey I get it, people are busy, leading busy lives but I’m of the belief that if you want to be with someone you make time and effort to be/do just that.
Living Wild Studios 