Inner Medley...

I can feel the heaviness in each step as I walk away.  I know that I am leaving deep footprints in your heart but you have left such deeply etched lines of pain in mine and they will never mend. Somehow, I find peace in knowing that these footprints and these lines will forever tie us together. 

The heart isn’t meant as a life force. It isnt just a muscle to pump blood through our bodies and back like an engine runs a car. It’s purpose is to feel. Feel everything; your pounding heart in your chest, your lungs, gasping for breath, your muscles contracting and releasing as they work overtime, your skin tingling with the rush of adrenaline, and your hair blowing in fresh air. Just feel it. Every little bit of it. Feel your heart rush and race with passion and excitement. Feel it break with sadness and heartache. Feel it tugged on by sweet things and tender moments. Feel it crush with death and uncertainty. Feel it melt with sincerity and unexpected surprises. Feel it expand with laughter and love. Feel it overflow with birth and nature and all that life has to offer. But you aren’t really living, unless you remember to feel. Just feel.

He told me that it scares him that I “feel so much.”

I relish
the warmth
of a sunny day.

I revel
in the current
of a thunderstorm.

I feel the sadness
of others
deep
in my own bones.

I feel hope
in the wind
and hold it tight
in my heart.

He told me this scares him because he can’t.
He barely feels anything.

I never thought that what I consider one of my best qualities could scare someone that I hold dear.

I do not understand how someone cannot “feel”…for it is a necessity buried deep within my soul.

This is the piece that I have in the collective.  If anyone is interested in purchasing the book, here is a link. It is over 200 pieces by Tumblr writers and was put together by our dear Lily.  I highly recommend checking it out!

innermedley:

A thousand paper cranes
   flew through my dreams last night.

Words,
   fervently scripted,
      on delicate washi sheets
         inscribed in ebony,
      (ink darker than the midnight sky)
         and folded,
            carefully,
      by the tiny hands of the unknown
         then thrown,
            into the atmosphere,
               like heartfelt messages tossed to sea.

They carried with them
   hushed secrets
      of forlorn lovers
         separated
            by miles
               or circumstance,
   wishes,
      whispered into their wings,
         by children,
            that dare to dream
               and to create
                  fairy tales,
                     in their minds,
   and wisdom,
      of those that have carried 
         the tremendous weight
            of knowledge
               on their shoulders
                  across this vast earth.

They beckoned to me,
   like paper lanterns,
      glowing in the wind,
         to reach out and gather
            their delicately crafted bodies
         and unfold
            that which was cast to the breeze,
               in hopes,
                  of being harnessed
                     by the universe.

I closed my eyes
   and wished,
      upon all the stars in the heavens,
         that I may
            reach out and cage
               the bird inscribed by only you.

I longed to hear it sing
   the loving notes
      of your sweet lullaby to me.
Your words,
   written on it’s wings.
I want to tattoo my skin
   in a million words of love,
      (your words)
         (your love)
            and bleed only ink.

But when I reached for them,
   they came to life 
      and flew,
         towards the horizon
            on paper wings
               powered,
                  by the lungs of creation.

Long ago you told me that
you loved to read people’s auras
and how you loved mine most of all.
When I asked what color mine was
you told me it was more of an experience.
A feeling.
You told me to imagine stepping out a door
at the very tip top of the highest mountain
that I could picture. You said that my aura
can only be described as the invigorating
feeling of the pureness and cold of the air
at the tip of that mountain hitting your skin.
And your face.
And your lungs.
This complete feeling of goodness and freshness.
A breath of fresh air, in it’s purest form.
You said that is why people gravitate to me…
because of course people enjoy the feeling
that comes with just being around me.

This was the nicest thing I’ve had anyone say
to me before and I just filed it away to pull
out in times when I am feeling down and
need to feel better about myself. Which is a 
lot lately. 

I want someone to not just want instant
gratification. I want a man that doesn’t just
want to open a door at the top of the mountain
to breathe in the essence of me…I want one that
will climb the whole damn mountain and overcome
obstacles and challenges to reach its peak 
because he knows that the feeling at the top,
the feeling of being with me and the joy that I 
bring to him is more than worth the journey that he
will have to endure to get there.

Even after all this time

the possibility of us

feels just as far away

as it ever was before.

A realization that breaks

this heart of mine

but a necessity of course

because how is someone

to move on without 

knowing that what they’ve

been holding out for all

along will most likely

never be. It’s amazing

how peaceful the heart

can feel once a decision is

made. Even a decision that

isn’t wanted and that hurts

to no end leaves a sense of

peace at the mere hint of

resolution.

The first time we kissed
   I felt my future shift
It was a summer night, you see.
   I love summer nights.
Just before Independence Day
   and during the summer
of my independence.
   The beer was flowing
like a warm breeze,
   and the conversation, easy.
Laughter filled
   each and every hollow,
almost as if it were on draft,
   and our pints overflowed
with flirtation.
   The music,
providing a soundtrack
   that unbeknownst to us
would always
   bring us back to that night. 
You had this look,
   a little rough around the edges
and to anyone else,
   you may have been intimidating at first,
but your eyes,
   they told me different.
They whispered to me
   that you were kind.
It would be
   the first night of many
that we were two in a crowd
   but really,
the only people there.
   Later, a moonlight walk
found us in a private park
   where I would swing like
a schoolgirl on recess
   and your eyes would sparkle
with pleasure, while you watched.
   The bridge in that park
still holds a piece of my heart
   and I shall never pass it
without remembering
   the moment
your lips touched mine.
   That summer night,
the first time we kissed,
   I felt my future shift.

(Source: innermedley)

The first time we kissed
   I felt my future shift
It was a summer night, you see.
   I love summer nights.
Just before Independence Day
   and during the summer
of my independence.
   The beer was flowing
like a warm breeze,
   and the conversation, easy.
Laughter filled
   each and every hollow,
almost as if it were on draft,
   and our pints overflowed
with flirtation.
   The music,
providing a soundtrack
   that unbeknownst to us
would always
   bring us back to that night. 
You had this look,
   a little rough around the edges
and to anyone else,
   you may have been intimidating at first,
but your eyes,
   they told me different.
They whispered to me
   that you were kind.
It would be
   the first night of many
that we were two in a crowd
   but really,
the only people there.
   Later, a moonlight walk
found us in a private park
   where I would swing like
a schoolgirl on recess
   and your eyes would sparkle
with pleasure, while you watched.
   The bridge in that park
still holds a piece of my heart
   and I shall never pass it
without remembering
   the moment
your lips touched mine.
   That summer night,
the first time we kissed,
   I felt my future shift.

A thousand paper cranes
   flew through my dreams last night.

Words,
   fervently scripted,
      on delicate washi sheets
         inscribed in ebony,
      (ink darker than the midnight sky)
         and folded,
            carefully,
      by the tiny hands of the unknown
         then thrown,
            into the atmosphere,
               like heartfelt messages tossed to sea.

They carried with them
   hushed secrets
      of forlorn lovers
         separated
            by miles
               or circumstance,
   wishes,
      whispered into their wings,
         by children,
            that dare to dream
               and to create
                  fairy tales,
                     in their minds,
   and wisdom,
      of those that have carried 
         the tremendous weight
            of knowledge
               on their shoulders
                  across this vast earth.

They beckoned to me,
   like paper lanterns,
      glowing in the wind,
         to reach out and gather
            their delicately crafted bodies
         and unfold
            that which was cast to the breeze,
               in hopes,
                  of being harnessed
                     by the universe.

I closed my eyes
   and wished,
      upon all the stars in the heavens,
         that I may
            reach out and cage
               the bird inscribed by only you.

I longed to hear it sing
   the loving notes
      of your sweet lullaby to me.
Your words,
   written on it’s wings.
I want to tattoo my skin
   in a million words of love,
      (your words)
         (your love)
            and bleed only ink.

But when I reached for them,
   they came to life 
      and flew,
         towards the horizon
            on paper wings
               powered,
                  by the lungs of creation.

 ’

 ’

(Critique is welcome…)