Every time I see your face,
I want to pull your body close to mine
And melt into your arms
Which are built so strong
I imagine them holding me tight that
any form of self doubt slips away.
Every time I see your face
I want to kiss your lips, soft and warm
and feel them part with mine
as our tongues meet and dance
upon breathes as if they were our last.
Every time I see your face,
even the ones only in my memory,
I can’t help but smile, sometimes in happiness
but always with a little bit of sorrow
Because every time I see your face
I keep these thoughts to myself
Because you are just my friend
Category Archives: Writing
Every time I see your face,
I am sorry I haven’t been around much at all for the month of November.
I have some Sims 2 stuff coming soon, a new neighborhood and a couple of challenges. That being said, don’t worry, the Homemaker Challenge isn’t going anywhere.
I have a couple articles I want to write on dating, one specifically dedicated to everything I’ve learned so far.
I don’t know when any of this will be out but I am going to put some more time into this blog coming up for the month of December so thank you for those who read it!
I hope everyone in the States had a Happy Thanksgiving yesterday. I am very thankful for the readers that I have and many other things in my life. Today is another year officially where I’ve made it successfully around the sun aka it’s my birthday and I am officially 34 today! Anyway thank you so much and I have a poem coming up soon that I wrote
“Manage your expectations,” my subconscious ominously says to me.
“What?” I reply
“Manage your expectations,” it says again.
“What does that even mean?”
“I dunno,” it shrugs nonchalantly as if it could care either way. “I just deliver the messages.”
“Thanks….” I reply, annoyed. My subconscious, third eye, intuition, whatever you want to call it, can be a real vague bitch sometimes. “I don’t even know what to do with that information,” I say in frustration.
//Warning// This Blog Post Contains Strong Sexual Language and Talks of Sensitive Subjects Such as Suicide Others Might Find Triggering.Read more
I like how sometimes you get the closure you didn’t even know you needed in unexpected ways. Yesterday the Cuban messaged me out of no where. The last I wrote about him was on the 7th of October but that was before we had mutually ended it. We had decided we weren’t a good fit together a few days later on the 12th. We were just two different types of people and while I was willing to try and work out some kind of compromise, I didn’t feel like the Cuban ever wanted to meet me half way. But I’m getting ahead of myself here.Read more
Percussive Maintenance– Noun. (uncountable) (humorous) The use of physical concussion, such as a knock or a tap, in an attempt to make a malfunctioning device or person work.
Ring ring.. ring ring… went Paul’s phone. Oh No, ET is that you calling?Read more
We last left off the Homemaker challenge with a very dramatic episode of the twins getting into private school. It’s late Friday night and Minneapolis had rolled the want to do her brother Paul’s homework. She has the want to go fishing but also to talk about her hobby enthusiasm. I like the idea of her mother hearing noises coming from downstairs and going to find Minneapolis ecstatically chatting her ear off about science. Perhaps she’s asking Victoria if she’s aloud to go star gazing or perhaps excited to join in on a science club at her new school. Either way it’s very late and if she has the same want in the morning to go fishing, New York is going to take her to go fishing again.Read more
It’s weird to know that its been a week since I finally finished burning the bridges with Ross and letting the ash settle. In theory a week is not a very long time but like Einstein once said, time is relative.
“A second in one reference frame may be longer compared to a second in another reference frame.”
And that couldn’t be more true. At the very end of my last blog post, I talked about how I had been able to let go of all my anger by forgiving myself. That despite the actions I took while angry, that doesn’t define who I am and remembering that I myself, am enough. That same night, I logged back onto Tinder. I wasn’t looking to date but just looking for… something. I don’t know what. Not validation but I did find that. I was reminded of the facts that I already knew, that I am pretty, funny, sweet, smart and caring. That I have enough love in my heart for a thousand life times. I knew I was finally able to let go and move on from Ross. And because of that, there was this odd sort of peace that had settled upon my heart. Like fresh snow on top of a bloody battlefield.Read more
There is a little tiny monster inside of all of us. It sleeps like a dragon on a pile of gold, slumbering. For most of us, it is not easily disturbed and very rarely awakens. At least mine rarely is. When it is awakened, it roars not from being disturbed by sleep. It’s furious that it’s gold is in jeopardy of being stolen. You, yourself fully are the gold. Each of us are the treasure that needs to be protected. For some people the monster will attack itself confused by where the danger is coming from. Some it directly goes in for the kill.Read more
I wrote this poem for my friend Dawn when I was fifteen years old and she was in her late twenties. She was going through a terrible divorce with her husband we nicknamed “the troll”. She was my first friend when I had moved to Portland, Or even though there was this giant age gap between us. I couldn’t help but have it running through my head tonight. Obviously it doesn’t fit 100% but yeah… for the most part it’s spot on for what I’m going through over +15 years later.
Take a picture of us
tear it in two.
that shows you right there
what I think of you.
I hate you.
I love you.
You’re a bastard.
Who broke the plaster
of me and you.
Who couldn’t be true.
Who left me crying there
sitting in the morning dew.
There’s nothing more to say
There’s nothing more to do.
As of this moment,
You and I are through.