as long as we keep dancing

It’s not a game. It’s not a game but it is a dance – a heated tango full of seduction, uncertainty, romance.

This is our move now, we hesitate. We see where it could be heading so the steps get more complicated and we challenge each other. This is me, all of me, take it or leave it. This isn’t a dream that fades when we awaken, but if we do it right it will be ours to share as long as we want, as long as we’re strong, forgiving, understanding that sometimes, we stumble. That’s fine when more of the time we are on the wing, gliding together and helping each other to remain aloft.

These are the real parts now, where we let down the veils, show the heart, the soul, and even with all they have been through we need to remember they are still fragile because we fought like hell to keep them that way with tooth and nail, blood and a sea of tears. To keep it that way or build it back up again from the emptiness of absence, from the loneliness of ‘never again’ to believe once more in the possibility of giving this heart away. It must be given in order to be mended, no one can reach it through the walls and we can’t do it ourselves, as much as we like to believe this and as much as we need to sometimes.

Take the paste and bandages, put right the parts that I cannot reach without your help, heal the wounds of the past and let me forget them in your eyes, at least for now.


This is the slippery time. Here, take my hand, I will do my best to keep you from falling. Look into my eyes and know you are safe. I promise that I will strive to do the same for you. Our wings will unfold and we won’t look down to where the countless hearts of those who were too afraid to let go and fly are piled, empty, alone, and broken. I’ll tend to your wings if you tend to mine, and together we will soar, we will warm the world as our hearts remember how to shine like the sun again, trusting in each other, trusting in love, trusting in romance, and knowing that the world is ours…

as long as we keep dancing.


Shall we dance?



It’s different this time and I don’t know why. Am I out of practice? Has it been so long that I’ve forgotten all of my rules?

I say that it’s different but I’m not sure it that’s altogether true. I remember the past, remember me, both reassuringly and with uncertainty. This time, I said it first. This time, I said it quickly. Why? Is it because I hope by saying those words it will be willed into existence, or perhaps let me acknowledge something that I already know?

I wish I had the answer. Not having it, I’ve learned to keep the words from leaking out of my mouth. Those words. The words I think that I see in her eyes when she looks at me, but she is smart enough to hold them inside, protected but not unavailable. See it in the eyes, feel it in the soul, in the heart, in the dreams.

Wait. Dreaming can be dangerous. This is what I know, but it is only dangerous if the dreams remain only that. Once imagined, once spoken, they need to be worked for, fought for. Sacrificed for. This is what I know. This is what I am willing to do, but is she?

I don’t say those words anymore. I’m careful now. I watch, I wait. Hell, I can’t even say that I know what those words mean, not with certainty. Perhaps they mean something different every time they are said, perhaps they shouldn’t be said at all, only presented in a gilded heart-shaped box, lined in blood red velvet, and in that box are the dreams that you both made come true. Rearrange the letters until there are enough to spell out the words as often as you wanted to say them, and maybe then, maybe then I will know what they truly mean… again.


…just doesn’t seem to be in my game plan today… at least not yet.

Waking up at the crack of 1pm, stumbling the few feet to the kitchen to throw water on the fire for coffee, and in my haze completely defying the saying that ‘The watched pot never boils” – but honestly, I really wasn’t watching it with all of my focus, only all that I could muster at the time. It wasn’t much, but although the water did boil, it seemed to take longer.

Getting a call from a dear friend that her cousin had just passed, doing my best to be as much as I could for her, but I never know what to say.

I don’t think I ever want to know. Some things you just need to feel, and put all of your trust in that. Trust that you won’t say too much, or say too little. Pray that you won’t say something stupid or insensitive. Wish that you had more coffee coursing through your veins, or the final drops of a shower falling off of your body.

I’ve watched far too many people die, and it never gets easier for those left behind. All that can be done is to raise your cup of coffee up to the sky and say “Be Well, be at peace, and though I hope I don’t see you too soon, know that you will always, always be with me until that time.

Yeah, I don’t know. Just going to take a shower, make another cup of coffee, and see what else the day has for me…

It Simply Is.

2:40am, February the First, TwentyThirteen. 2-1-2013

The lights are on, I’m not as tired as I should be, and have no inclination to sleep. Damn be to accidental naps.

Somewhere there is a mosquito flying around in here, or, more likely, resting until I try to close my eyes and do the same. Then, it will attack. We share no love, these blood suckers and I. Never have, never will. Still can’t figure out why they exist, what their purpose is. I will give every living creature an official pardon except those horrible beasts.

A small and wonderful success tonight – realizing a small hiccup in my shooting form which flexed the arrows just enough at release to alter their flight, just enough to be less consistent. The way the arrow is put in flight by the string is called ‘The Archers Paradox’ (look it up) – due to the sudden thrust, the shaft of the arrow flexes before it even leaves the bow. When the force of the bow is too light or heavy for the strength of the spine of the arrow, you can get an accurate shot – but an accurate shot ain’t shit if it isn’t consistent. It’s nothing but luck. Tonight, I figured out what I was doing wrong, and even though six yards is all I can shoot in my apartment, I was able to group them in a delicious ½ inch vertical strip on my target. (If I shot for a single point, I would destroy arrows, and as they’re around $8 each – HELL no.)…

But wait – I started writing for another reason that I completely forgot. Was it to offer incredible thanks to a certain someone who has helped me through these many months, for some reason put me before herself and helped me survive, grow, and remember that I might be something special? She chooses anonymity, so I will respect that – but R. – seriously, pull your head out of your ‘woe is me’ butt and realize how special you are. We all have our sorrows, we all have our pain, we ALL are a bit insecure. You created miracles for me, and I only can hope that you are never in the position where I am able to return the favor… but I someday will, in some way. I say this here because I think that so few read it these days, and I can’t blame them – but you do. I hate that sometimes, but not now. Still, this missive wasn’t started for you.

Could it be for L, who awakened a heart that I honestly thought had become so small, so tainted, so jaded, a body of life so fucking judged as to not believe that it dared to love anymore?

No. Yes.

If anything, my heart grew larger with my dreams, and it just could be her that I asked for. It just could be *her* that before shortly over a month ago was only a want… but then she spilled her drink and herself into my life, and… and. With her I am content. Content because I know that though she is so much to me, yet is against me riding a motorcycle in the city – I have little doubt that if that time ever comes, she will be riding not on back, but by my side. A single sentence that says it all – or at least what I feel. What I feel, I know.

And I feel that everything you can ever imagine for yourself will come true.

And I KNOW that it’s entirely up to you… and even if you don’t see it, the magick is happening in the background.      Believe.

It’s as simple as that.


Make Good Dreams.

I don’t know what this was about. It simply is.


Now WHERE is that fucking mosquito?