Love Letters Unsent How would you write a love letter if you knew you would never send it?
Annapolis, Maryland April 2013
You will never receive these letters although my heart hopes you find them. Maybe when I am gone, they will search through my things and discover these letters unsent. They will be gathered together into a brown paper parcel, wrapped in twine which will find its way to your doorstep and as the bow slips undone and the paper flaps open you will remember my messy penmanship and the scent of my hair from all those decades ago. But none of this is why I bring my pen to page. It is for this moment of Sweet Love for you that persuades my ink to flow. For if I could not , my dams would break letting my bathtub overflow. I must find some form for my love. But what could I create that could contain these tides? What cloud could ever hold the beauty of the sky? Berlin, Germany May 2013
Five thousand two hundred twenty three miles
And your hands lead mine
Slipping between the caverns of my thighs
You make me call your name through jagged breath.
You bring me to the mound, the peak, the apex
And through the valley all you can hear are vowels
For five thousand two hundred twenty three miles
Strasbourg, France June 30th, 2013
I would like to swim inside of you
To ride your waves and roll with your tides
To float on my back suspended and gazing into your skies.
Held in the space between the darkness and points of light.
I would like to swim inside of you. Walbrzych, Poland July 15, 2013
I lay in the train on my back watching the shapes in the sky morph and my mind swirls with you. So many memories, some of which we have not ever had. I speak to you even though you are not here. I ask you to tell me secrets and know what I would tell you.
Being with your body I felt so much of you. I felt your past. I felt your pain. I felt the walls you had built around your heart as I laid my hands on your shoulders and chest . And these walls only made me love you more. The recognition of your pain. To feel it so viscerally and to see it change. To see how the muscles of your arms had released. To see how your face had a different glow and your eyes were a different blue. Thinking back I have the thought that you looked like a man in Love.
I can see the house over the river and through the field. I can feel my fingers fumbling for your buttons. The wine is already on my lips and my eyes turned up to the stars as we lay entwined in a luke warm bath. And later we make love in warm sheets, our hair still damp and I fall asleep on your chest just like I have dreamed many times before.
I close my eyes and try to rest but behind my eyelids the images do not cease. I find scapes of skin, pelvises and thighs. I feel my weight on top of yours, my knees by your hips, spreading wider, and here in this space behind my eyelids exists a world of sensation. My stomach aches and I feel your warm ghost inside of me; diving and rising.
My eyes and ears open to flying landscapes and chatting Polish women.
Berlin, Germany August 2013
It is late, my wine bottle is only half full, I sit in the dark of my room, Mozart and sounds of the street drift in my ears.
There is a glint from the corner of the room exposing itself through the night. My fingers dance on the keys itching to find the words that could possibly ease the needing. This savoury longing swirls on my tongue accented with tannins and the scent of my own palm. My fingertips rub my own lips and journey through my hair finding their way back to between my teeth. There is nothing to do . No word to say or message to relay. There is only a wanting, only small sighs that escape my lips that you cannot hear. Only the sound of keys clicking in the night searching for some sort of rest from the longing. I write the words not to be sent or read. I write the words in transformation. I am left with no choice but metamorphsis. Could these words create a cocoon from which I could escape, sprout wings and flutter from this darkness, expand out into the night and visit lovers, watching them entwine from windowsills and sigh with sharing. The night is long, the moon unseen. The only light to guide me is that of the computer screen as I hover between sleep and waking , breathing shallow and punctuated with sighs. Arlington, Virginia September 2013
Where you once lived inside of me sits dusting furniture, covered in white sheets. Blades of sun sneak through shutters and illuminate the particles of us Still floating in the air.
NYC - Present
My heart is no longer a school girl Again and again we are shown the truth we already know. True loving is a letting go.