Bubble Bath

Strike me now
while I delight in this languid warmth
calming aromatics soothe through every pore
my heart-beat in synch with a bluesy deep bass

Float up from beneath me
breaking through soft bubbles
water just below boiling, caressing my skin
stark cold porcelain edges – my only respite from the heat

Let it flow
like this puckered up punch to my lips
as the tension melts away, limb from limb
relax my mind, release my soul, too much to ask,

from a bubble bath?

Spring, Slowly

My mind is always racing, bouncing from one ponderance to another. I roam the expanses of my consciousness, searching, asking, hoping, wanting. All the while arriving nowhere? Everywhere, all at once? The rhythmic hum of rain, drumming softly on my window pane, the only interruption in my reverie. Wistful wondering, lazy afternoons, stuck in a haze…or did I mean daze? You see what I mean? Too much, too little, never enough. Slipping in and out of here and now, there’s always better days. Yearning for the suns warm touch, grass soft under my feet, flowers blooming, life again. The seasons they do change.

Spring Fever

“What do you think of when you close your eyes?” A whispered question, awaiting a response, heart heavy in my chest, a flutter nonetheless. His breathing matches mine. Lips parting gently, “beauty, peace, the sun, the stars, and mostly you.” I can’t help but feel the warmth spilling out of him, spilling out of me. Desire seeps through me. Grey days and cold mornings slowly fade into abstraction. Here I am now, a glow. Slow, sleepy afternoons last under covers. Soft slow passion. We are an island. I’ve never been more excited to be stranded.

Tsunami Season

She is unforgiving 
She is hungry 
She rises up with the clouds 
Preparing to crash back down 
Clawing everything back with her inky tendrils 

Angry, she thrashes 
Before her descent into madness 
You can’t outrun this vicious fate 
If you lie in her way 
All are the same in her clutches 

Just as she came she flees back out 
Rage appeased from her feed
Retreating out to sea to sulk 
For all we’ve done, her small revenge 
Leaving her mess for those left over in her wake 

september

There’s a certain hope that comes in autumn , the wild wicked summer air dissipates and makes way for something calmer, something cosier. Not necessarily safe, but comforting. I ease in to the cool crisp air and sigh as I watch the leaves around me start to tinge with muted orange, playful yellows and bold reds. Just like summer sunsets before, autumn brings with her her own shades of promise. I inhale crystalline air into my heaving lungs, ready to slow down, standing at the edge of a fog covered field, staring out into the unknown. I am ready for whatever comes next, what winter winds blow my way. I change just as the seasons do. More me than ever before with each passing moment. 

Un-named Mystère Noire – Chapter 1

The rain beat down angrily on the pavement, Joe could feel her heart pounding in her chest as the cab pulled away from the curb, leaving her to stare breathlessly at the looming house in front of her. She couldn’t believe the property lay still un-touched…well, really, she could understand why. The ghosts this place contained. She shuddered, the cool mist of the rain setting in against her skin. She pulled her thin rain coat further into her shivering frame, cursing that she had denied Baker’s plea to let him accompany her. She was stubborn, like her father, and she had felt deep in her bones that this was something she had to do alone.

Joe walked slowly towards the house, as if it were sentient and could sense her arrival. She knew that was silly and yet she couldn’t help treat this whole situation with the deepest reverence, just in case. She stopped momentarily, midway through her passage to the doorway, she shifted in her now soaked converse, feeling the weight of her backpack, a reminder that she had all the tools she needed. She was getting in this time. She spurred onwards towards the front door, reaching the relative shelter of the old wooden porch just as an ominous boom sounded, followed by an almost ethereal flash of lightening, causing Joe to catch her reflection in the front window, looking just before the front room where her nightmares often featured.

Joe grasped the cold metal handle, expecting some resistance, if not for locks but because of the sheer age of the place by now, but to her surprise the door sprang open with ease. Almost as if she had never left. She took a deep breath, stilling herself, preparing to bring herself face to face with the only place she had never been able to bring herself back to. Until now. She took one more deep breath and opened her eyes, taking exactly 7 steps forward before turning right into the front room. The exact same path she’d taken that night, nearly 15 years ago now. She could’ve turned on her flashlight, but she didn’t. Scared of what she might see, constantly reassuring herself that it was silly to think that way.

The lightening flashed again just as she had entered the front room and turned towards the base of the fireplace, just as she had that night. Joe screamed, a bloodcurdling sound that surely would’ve woken the neighbours, had there been any within earshot. In front of the fireplace, half on the red brick, half on the hardwood floors, lay a man, his face unrecognizable, smashed, bloodied, broken, his hands grasping the floors as if to show his intent to escape, his black tufts of hair the only defining feature left. Joe fell to her knees, her hands covering her face as her sobs erupted from her chest. She couldn’t believe this was happening again. The scene from her nightmares, except this time she was certain she was awake.

As Joe sobbed helplessly, unable to grasp her reality, she was all too unaware of the figure that loomed behind her. Carefully and quietly trying to move along the wall as not to arouse her attention. Another crack of lightening jolted Joe’s attention away from her palms just momentarily, causing her to catch the shadow on the floor from the figure behind her. Once again her heart was pounding as she spun around, expecting to catch the person who did this.

She let out another scream, as the figure ceased to move forwards, instead now leaping into the air, seemingly startled by being discovered. “I know what you did, you monster” Joe yelled, with abandon. “Please, stop. I’m a detective” the figure emerged from the shadows, suddenly. He looked exhausted and weary, but chiseled, like the lead in an old black and white movie. His long tan rain coat and hat completed the retro detective movie vibe, and his handsome smile spread across his rosy lips the second he stepped into the illuminated window light and spotted Joe. Really spotted her. She couldn’t help but shiver once again as their eyes locked.


Running

I am constantly running from endings
the gripping fear that things will change
the fear that they won’t.
Sometimes the moment feels so comfortable
I just want to sit and bathe in the solace
How do I slow down time
her liquid curves sometimes like honey,
other times like water
and I am but awash in her current
grasping at sticks stuck in the sides
“let me stay here” I cry
wasted breath, I know.