01/23/2011

For a cold, snowy, Sunday morning I got a lot accomplished. I did my Zumba (whoever said Latin dancing was easy?), I paid bills, swept AND mopped the kitchen and now I must dress for work. Another 8 hours will pass where I ask "Smoking or Non? One bed or Two?" I know someone has to do this redundant job, just wish it wasn’t me. LOL
 

Anyway I KIND of did some writing recently. I have them written down on pieces of random and unimportant papers that are just floating around in my wallet so I figured I’d give them a home.  They aren’t anything special, just some random thoughts that I pieced together.

Uhg, off to trudge in the snow. I HATE winter. =(  I am not even graceful on dry surfaces, so these slick, icy ones? BAD NEWS!

My intoxicated eyes blur,
yet you manage you keep my glass,
    half full.
Once more you run hot and cold,
    through my veins.
The mirror across the bar reflects your-
 shadow as I stare at my own image.
  Such a mystery. I know you’re not really there.

But it doesn’t matter.
  I feel your breath on my neck anyway
    -Ready to bite.
And the penetration pains me,
    as you draw first blood.
I have a feeling it isn’t your first time.
    As my beating heart pulsates at the seams.
The mirror’s heart beats too-
  in rythem with my own as my tears fall
onto the dirty floor.

  And I am your foe,
   The broken glass and empty shell you have drained
    and left behind.
I can still see you in the pieces.

***************************************************************

I feel the heat against my flesh
  and the smoke blinds me
the fire is only a shadow,
cloaked by the darkness you left in my home-
engulfed in the flames you ignited
i hear the hissing rumble
somewhere in the walls
I know somehow I am the oxygen that
keeps you burning.
Hotter.
The scars you left will be my only testimony
a constant reminder that my disfigurment burns hotter
Still.