A delicate web

woven from dreams

catching words

and promises

on its sticky threads

and I wonder

which the spider worries about more-

the silk spun from its own body

or the holes

left by the very nature

of webs.

So this thing I have been wrestling with God about – you know, the thing I can’t stop writing about and so eventually I just all but stopped writing? That thing?

Yeah. Well. God pinned me to  the mat and I decided maybe we’d try it His way.  I gave up, surrendered, submitted.

So I don’t know what I will be writing about…something, I’m sure.  But I can’t promise it will be good.

I have written 11,000 words on the book – progress! Progressssss!

I have a new, very demanding job.  It’s perfect for me, and the demanding part doesn’t feel quite as demanding as it would if I didn’t love it so much.

A lot of people I love and care about and know and just see on FB are going through tough times – awful things, awful series of things. Compared to that, my problems seem trivial, ridiculous.  But here, living in it and through it, well, it takes its toll.

Not everything looks better in the morning.  But maybe one morning it will. One morning,  I will understand.  One morning, it will all make sense.

This is not that morning.

But I’m ok with that, because it is was it has to be.

Tonight, I finally finished the first chapter of this book I have been working on for MONTHS.  We know what’s up with Faith and her boyfriend.

I figured out the way to depict a critical, dramatic scene without melodrama. Because what I don’t want to be is melodramatic.  Or clichèd. I get plenty of that in real life, thankyouverymuch!

So, yay!!

Now, where to begin Chapter Two, and Lily’s story.

Probably with drunken almost-sex.  Wonder if people will believe that teenagers really do all this stuff? Cause they do.

We did.

Clearing out clutter

Letting go of uselesss things

Making room for words

***

My muse has come back

Turns out she has missed me too

She has much to say

***

Lyrical language

Images, words, call to me

I’m just the vessel

***

The story unfolds

Like a movie in my head

Vibrant, Shimmering

I thought I held gold

But when I opened my hand

Mere dust blew away

I wonder if you think about the way

my hair falls in my eye

and you absently brush it away

because you like to look into my soul

when we talk and

because you know I

can’t hide anything from you when you

are that close to me

and you know I’ve been hurt

in deep, dark, twisted places

and you know I won’t, I can’t tell you why, who, how

but you know it’s there,

and you know somewhere behind all the sadness

and all the quiet

is something more.

something deeper

some happiness just waiting to be discovered

set free and cherished.

And I wonder if you

realize that you like to outline my lips

with your finger and you do it

over and over and over

like you are trying to memorize

their shape and their texture

and even when I’m saying things that

tell you nothing

your finger still follows, stays with the

movement and it makes me think

you care.

I wonder if you know

that you tell me things you probably wouldn’t tell

anyone else and you say things

you said you weren’t going to say

and I wonder if you set boundaries and then

cross them because of something I say

or something I do or

something I write and I wonder,

does that make you

want me less or more?

And when it’s late and dark

I’m lonely and

in an unfamiliar unfriendly place

and I let my guard down

and let myself think about you and

let myself have a glass of wine

or two

or an uncountable number of glasses of wine

and I ask you things you don’t want me to ask you

because we both know the anwers but we

don’t want to say the answers I wonder

I wonder

why you let me get away with all that…

The skin you touched

so gently, so hesitantly (at first)

has been shed,

replaced,

regrown.

The hair you played with

ran your fingers through

pulled until I tbought my world had shifted

for good

has grown,

been cut,

been swept away.

The ears you whispered your dreams to,

the ears that heard your promises

and declarations and

deep, secret fears

have grown accustomed

to silence.

The eyes

that don’t even need to see you

to understand you

no longer seek you in crowds,

in traffic,

in dreams.

This heart,

once pulsing with love and hopes and dreams

then broken, neglected, abused

has

finally

knitted itself back together

with nothing but determination,

willpower, and the

realization that

this new woman I am

bears only a surface resemblance

to the woman I once thought

I was.

This one sprung fully formed from sleep.

Wrote it all down

Got it all out

Exhausted now, spent

from the exorcism of old hopes

and dead and dying dreams

and now

maybe

I can get the real words out

the ones trapped in my head

the ones that make it almost

all the way to my fingers

but not quite.

If you were here,

right here,

right in front of me

I would say everything I’m thinking

ask every question I can’t answer

divulge every secret

in my heart (as though there were any you didn’t know).

I would drink you in with my eyes

I would breathe in your breath and I would

accidentally touch you and

lean against you and accidentally

fall back

again

but since you aren’t

and won’t be and

can’t be

I find myself increasingly lost,

adrift,

asking questions no one answers and

whispering my secrets into the wind and

wondering,

knowing I will never

really

know.

Yeah, I really should not read old blog posts.

Like really.