the length of time it took her to make her departure from the past was made up for by the speed in which she did so

who wants to look in a mirror 20 years from now and see wilted eyes

tired hands, heavy heart

kiss the past goodbye and never look back, you can kiss my ass

because ‘i don’t have time to maintain these regrets when i think about

the way You love me’


when was the last time you woke up  to watch the sun rise 

lit a candle to watch it burn 

the last you paused to listen to a ballad 

so beautiful it walked your soul along the brink of tears  

pause to breath, to be,


my darling 

play your melodies is the silence 

in the stillness sing your unfinished song 

the house is still and quiet this morning

the only noise from cicadas outside my kitchen window

thier songs drift sweetly in with golden rays of morning light onto the white washed face of the wooden corner nook table where i sit– where we sat

all my coffee is gone

i stare at the empty tenants, brown and black grinds filtering across the bottom of my mug

there is nothing left– nothing to clutch, to hold on to, to comfort or sooth

only unavoidable emptyness, stillness,  and the cicadas melody

i speak of grief

of loss

heartbreaks, sadness, of his and hers and theirs

i write of it well and often, for i’ve ¬†known it well and often

but i will know you, too

hope – love – fullness – peace

you too will be my friend, my teacher, and my constant companion

we stood in silence as we looked at the painting, an impressionistic of a woman in which the artist had let the paint run from her figure, sliding into the surrounding colours as if she were falling, melting into the background

a spanish girl, dancing with such a sadness and¬†passion that for a moment i couldn’t turn my eyes away

her red skirt flung to the side, face and arms stretching to the sky as her body curved with dramatic grace

she looks like she’s¬†falling apart, said the boy

perhaps that’s why she dances, i said

to dance through the night to spanish guitar music, in a long skirt that flirts gracefully with warm summer air, barefoot and unaware of anything other than that present moment

to feel the catch in my breath as i stand under a cold icelandic waterfall, feel it fall to my face, my hair, my feet

to ride bareback on a horse as the sun sets golden in the distance

to sink my feet into the sand of a salty mediterranean beach, feel the water crash in around me

there is so much life to live, to dream of, and had experiences to be cherished

even if we only ever dream, at least we dream, still knowing that there is more beauty to be held in your palmsРwaiting to be savored like a fine wine or a first kiss with the one whom your soul loves

let’s fall in love with this life, kiss it eternally and never doubt¬†why




“listen,” He said 

“i know it’s hard to see right now but there is joy at the end of all this 

there is light you can’t see yet, this much I promise you”

8 years later sitting outside her house in the gentle rain she remembered those words 

how true they became

all the words before them 

and all the words after 

8 years later, words finally became more than ink on paper


Promise Me We Will Always Be Wild

Footloose Diary

Promise me we will always be wild, running barefoot in the dirt, wind messing our hair, sun freckling our skin. That we will free our inner savage, and embrace our beautiful flaws and blemishes.

Promise me we will always be bold, living lively, fiercely and colourfully. That we will smile often and be silly. That we will dare to escape the societal mold, and floating everywhere but mainstream. That we will always be courageous enough to listen to our heart and live the life we always imagined.

Promise me we will always be spontaneous, avoiding schedules that make us rush, breaking routine that makes time fly. That we will never be trapped in familiarity and comfort, becoming creatures of habits living a boringly predictable life. Because life is much more interesting when we experience the unexpected.

Promise me we will always be authentic, revealing our unlimited self in all our rawness and realness. That we will always live…

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life was an all consuming challenge

to accomplish, to prove himself

prove he could overcome

prove he was good enough

and he did, he was

but when you’ve gained ¬†everything you dreamt of and more

what is left, when you’ve had it all

success? what is that

you can still hear those voices constant, even on the mountaintop

pushing, urging, never enough

he no longer wanted to be in this life,

he felt it had nothing left to offer

selfish, the way you chose to leave

almost enough to make this feel alright

but i still miss you, my friend

i will until the end