You stood before me, held my hands in yours truly. You spoke with an unwavering faith in WE...
Winter is the womb where Spring finds the room, to give way to Summer where she is in full bloom. Then falls into Autumn like the leaves to their resting tomb. Home again. We find ourselves. In the deep Winter of our womb.
To those who dare to wander and find, your truth to no longer feel hopelessly blind.
She feels between-the-lines, of what others do not express. She reads between-the-wines, for what goes unexpressed. She's a feeler of the world, filled with the wealth of inner success.
Another poetic memoir from my Vulnerablity Vault of "things to scared to share" written in late Spring of 2012 in the height of a budding summer romance.
I woke up and just knew. Just a few nights before, with my beloved at my side, both looking up into the sky, I said from deep inside, "if it is so, then show up in a shooting star." It did. Just then. Right there. I swear. The words had barely left me. I wished for … Continue reading Ms. Carriage
We like to think, or want to believe that our way of love is right. Right? When I’m really honest with myself, I certainly do.
We all want to believe we are doing right by Love—our very own version of it, that is. From the overpowering divide and conquerers to the egalitarian peacemakers. From the selfish to the selfless. From the narcissists to the empaths. From the givers to the receivers (who see each other as "the overbearing" and "the takers.") … Continue reading Love. The Capitalized Kind:Part 2
It’s all been Love. The capitalized kind. The learning kind. The honest, "I don't know how to do this" kind.