Respect, Apologize, Thank, Forgive

{Photo Credit: The Ballerina Project}

Dear Body,
Sorry for the rigorous maltreatment.
Dear Brain,
Sorry for the tactless pity. 
Dear Heart,
Sorry for the extensive distrust. 

Dear Soul,
Thank you for the resilience. 

My Lips are Chapped, and My Heart is Full.

Truth be Told:

The way you look at me is how I always imagined you would.

My friends, assuredly unaware of the irony, all jokingly remark,

"It's a sign of the apocalypse."

But I've been thinking and maybe they're right, 

this just might be the beginning of the end;

for my entire existence has been spent preparing to reflect light into those eyes 

your eyes, yearning for the resultant ocular exclamation,

and now I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. 

The only thing I know for certain- 

in this moment I get to seek answers to these existential questions

while basking in the radiant validation of my hopes 

emanating from the warmth of your stare.

Reflections on Thresholds

Eighteen

I'm too young for this.

It isn't right

for if I continue myself I shall loose in the fight

Somehow you got a hold of a simple skiff of skin

then proceeded to burrow your way in.

So deeply entangled in treachery

dysfunction, disgrace and calamity

feel more like sanity

I cannot believe I let this happen.

Disgraced the very name that I use to lace up my heart.

Blood drips down my bodice

spreading its sickly warm grin across my face.

Drenched in hot desire

STOP

I should've never lit a fire too large for my small hands to extinguish,

I'd need your help.

That's what scares me-making me cower in my thoughts. 

{Photo Credit: The Ballerina Project}

Twenty-One

Woman, I promise that if you stick this out you are going to find a way to take all those broken, charred pieces of who you were- who you think you ought to be that have been left in your hands by ex lovers, and use the charcoal to draw a beautiful picture, or a map, or a graph, or a story on the ceiling of your heart. You're going to find in all that misery, and sorrow valuable tools to create a love far more fulfilling than you've ever known possible, an unconditional, insatiable love of self.

One day you're going to lie down naked on the floor of your soul, look up and marvel at the beauty that became of what you once ascertained to be nothing but destroyed parts of you.

Then something amazing is going to happen. Someone on their journey through life will stumble aimlessly, and likely unintentionally into where you're lying vulnerable, exposed, but the first thing he notices won't be your nudity- Oh No! he'll be chin up head back completely immersed, and astounded by the immense beauty above him, walking forwards unaware of his increasingly close proximity to you. You'll probably hear him come in, it won't disturb you, you're eyes will remain peeled on what's overhead. And when he takes his 229th step into the room his foot brushing skin instead of tile, he'll look down upon your confidently vulnerable form laying there emitting waves of joyous relaxation. He'll quickly look back up, then immediately back down, and in that second he'll fall in love with every piece of you that was, every piece of you that is. You'll calmly, but sweetly invite him to join you, and by the time he lies belly up, his body adjacent to yours, and looks back he will have already fallen in love with every piece of you that will ever be. 

Simple, because he felt the awe-inspiring power of your self-love before he even knew your name.

What I Need to Hear From You

You need to know I bless you to let go.

 I bless you to move on. 

You need to know that I no longer want to hold you down,

 en-cage you in my insecurities.

I release you to roar with all your might,

 no matter how much I fear the sound.

 I bless you to be you, 

to fight for your dreams, 

to run with your ambition, to love without condition. 

I want you to know that you are enough, 

you have always been enough. 

You need to know that I hope for your success. 

I believe in your potential. 

Know that no matter where you are in life 

you can always find a home in my soul. 

I will always love you,

 the way I express that love may change

but I love you,

 regardless of time, or distance. 

I will never forget what has passed,

 but I will also never stop being excited for what the future holds.

 I look forward to reading the rest of your story

 and I release you to write it 

with all the wild vigor you have bottled in your soul, 

one-two-three, go!

Instead of What I Said.

{Photo Credit: The Ballerina Project}

12.31.13

There's something sacred about going to war,
                                                      the way it somehow makes you appreciate things
                                                                                                          like butter more.
The chaos, you crave it- that's the thing...
first times lead to "just one more time"
and the hands on the clock of your heart develop arthritis
                                       -from all the holding on-
grantee, they'll stop ticking long before you realize.
They say as people we become like those we surround ourselves with;
         I never used to believe them...
but for the first time in four hundred and fifty eight days,
today
I asked someone other than me, "how are you doing?" 

You don't have to surround yourself with people to become like them;
O' no.
You can distance your self, on the most remote island
                                                                             in the middle of the Ocean,
but- as long as you surround your thoughts with someone
                                                                      and hang your soul up on their fears
their polluted waves of influence can still reach your shores.
For years I thought they were in pursuit of happiness,
but they're not.
They're searching for assurance-
                                                looking for a place where they will feel adequate.
Woman! you can't keep attempting to be that place:
    *letting them inhabit your being and pierce your soul with their self loathing
    *throwing off your self so that they can have a place of refuge...
No-
the only solution to their emptiness:
for them to seek out adequacy within the place where they are at.
within their minds,

                           their bodies,

the vessels that transport their souls through life-

if they feel inadequate there

 they won't feel adequate anywhere.

-Jots for Jays-

kindred spirit- everything i tried so desperately to forge in relations with others- 

you just popped into my life. a fierce alliteration, of my otherwise alienated soul. 

Daring enough to be an illustration... a personification, of natures caring grace- 

a daily reminder of how completely beautifully, life is out of my control. 

thanks for that J. 

-Adrianna

Slow Dancing

 

we were a fire hazard

somewhere between here and there

our wires got crossed

and we became an

 elegantly twisted pending disaster-

we could only slow dance in a burning room so long

before our lungs were filled with smoke,

the roof caved in,

and we collapsed.

 

when I wake up everything has changed,

I can breath again-

 

 you are the only one who will ever truly understand- value

what I lost in the fire,

for you too rock-stepped

 to the beautifully tragic chaos-

 

 

slowly I begin to accept talking to anyone else about it

doesn't really help.

I won't see the same relief,

or mirrored pain,

in anyone's eyes but yours.

 



YOU-TU

When I was three YOU were the person I named my toothbrush after. YOU taught me to rock climb. YOU were my partner in the kindergarten quite corner. YOU were twelve, I was five. YOU were a valentines card. I chased YOU around the playground all of recess. I used to take the long way home just so I could walk with YOU half of the way. I liked YOUR hair. YOU were nothing short of an obsession. I carried YOUR name around in a locket. YOU were my lab partner. YOU were, and are still my biggest fear. I still think of YOU. YOU were a mistake that I made too many times. YOU played me better than Mozart played his piano. YOU'VE only ever been a good friend. YOU never spoke. YOU... I was a tad drunk. YOU were "just a bit" narcissistic. YOU are the definition of pushy. YOU were looking at my best friend the entire time. One day YOU will be nothing but mine.

ElEmEntary my dEar.

Who am I kidding! I'm chainEd to this wall. YEt I'vE bEEn trainEd to EmpathizE so I call it "my past."

WhEn rEally it is nothing morE than shackEls- the bonds of a tapE worm- rEgardlEss of the amount I consumE, I always End up bEing a littlE lEss with Each passing day.

You'rE tiEd to this wall too. It might bE a diffErEnt shadE of grEy but it's still the samE isn't it?

I lookEd to my lEft yEstErday and saw you thErE, bEsidE mE.

All I'vE bEEn hoping for sincE that introduction is for both of our rElEasE.
So that wE could look at Each othEr facE to facE, instEad of stEaling profilE glancEs.

But I'vE grown impatiEnt with this foolish faith.

NEithEr of us will EvEr bE uncuffEd.
HowEvEr maybE wE can find fifty hErE.

Stain

{photocredit:HubPages}

I want to make new memories in this dress. 

The one that is already so stained that I'm not too sure if it can even withstand anymore experience being spilled on it. 

but I want to try;

because I am tried of letting something so beautiful simply hang, thinking of it as nothing but my past.

Trying/ A.M.E.

{photocredit:theballerinaproject}
Today I have two poems, I wrote them both a while ago, but I thought I'd share... 


Trying:
I know you said "be patient," "trust me,"
and I do...
but I'm getting scared.
These trenches being dug by silence
reminiscent of the last siege
in which my heart came out far from
unscathed.
And sure, maybe I should have learned by now not to care so much!
but all I'm doing is searching
for someone who won't want to return me.
However merchandise cannot dictate what a consumer wants.
and in fearful silence that's what I've become
merchandise...reverently silenced  
by the fear of what I could loose
and
the memory of that which I already have. 
 

 A.M.E
these pages I've filled with your name.
a heart tilled over by wrongful blame...
if only memory was phased,
by the extinguished flame.   

Insomnia

{Photocredit:Graphics99.com}

Sleepless eyes and loveless lives.
How have I become her?
The girl who counts her sheep
between the sheets of confusion.
With sixteen memories
 repeatedly pounding their image
onto the sheet metal that is my brain. 

"You"

Just -----------------------------------{I named my toothbrush after you}

Like---------------------------------------{You taught me to rock climb}

Someone---------------------------------------------------------{Nurse}

Better----------------------------------------------------{Hockey cards}

Keep----------------------------------------------------------{Survivor}

Doing---------------------------------------{You were my first valentine}

Better-----------------------------------------------{Cops and Robbers}

Just-----------------------------------------------{You'd walk me home}

Listen-------------------------------------------------{I still can't explain}

Again---------------------------------------{I made a website about you}

Run---------------------------------------------------------{That locket}

Better----------------------------------------------{Turned out to be gay}

Now-----------------------------------------------------------------{Boats}

Catch------------------------------------------------{Sorry for the deceit}

Loose---------------------------------------------------------------{First}

There------------------------------------------------------------{Mistake}

Better?--------------------------------------------------{I guess we'll see :D}

Poison

{photocredit:theballerinaproject}

I've seen the pleasure that poison can bring

watched it trickle down to their souls.

Kissed the tainted lips full of heat

and been seduced by it myself;

but to sober would be to doubt

the endless pleasure

 of slowly killing myself.

Melody

{photocredit:theballerinaproject}


these words I scribble here, retort what life breaths
silently mocking the irony of living in this
futile state.
yet somehow I find solace in the chard pieces left
broken,
in my hands.
as people walk by
contempt written on the right corner of their eyes
for crimes I never committed.  

Enough

{PhotoCredit:Theballerinaproject}

And I'll double knot these untied shoes 

so I can run back,

TRIP

over my past yet again?

NO! This time I've learned, 

learned to step out of the constraints of laces and run forward.

Pointing one pretty toe after the other 

as my feet rebound off the scorching pavement.

To trip over new pot holes rather then the same old familiar ones

sure, it might hurt more...

but how else can I win this race?

More Poems

S-T-O-P

four letters murmured daily 

ignored

when weakness is stronger then strength 

only you will do

and when I try to pull you out

deeper in you dive

setting the rate of my pulse.

will anything change this?

those premature ventricular contractions;

you know, the ones that used to seem cute?

turned out to be just a heart murmurer  

that begs

"please stop"

as it reaches for more. 

Secrets of the Scare.

{Photo Credit: The Ballerina Supremacy}

 

I'm too young for this.

It isn't right

Yet if I continue myself I shall loose in the

Fight

Somehow you got a hold of a simple skiff of skin

Then proceeded to burrow your way in

So deeply entangled in treachery

Dysfunction, disgrace and calamity

feel more like sanity

I can't believe I let this happen

Disgraced the very name

That I used to lace up my heart

Blood drips down my bodice

Spreading its sickly warm grin across my face

Drenched in hot desire

STOP

I should've never lit a fire too large

For my small hands to extinguish

I'd need your help 

That's what scares me

making me cower in my thoughts. 

-Adrianna

aRTSY?

{photo credit: Better Living with Herbs}

I feel like I should be drawing some massive disproportionate purple flower,

Blowing in the wind.

Resurrecting my desire to feel love again.

There was a heart beat that once told me what I was living for,

Picked up those sideways pieces I left at your door.

In its place now stands a broke man,

Curled,

Curdled, 

Crippled,

Toes in hand. 

~Thought I'd share some more recent poetry, if that's what you want to call it :P