When you left you took the air around me, for I can hardly breath.

Pulling Files

I put my heart on shuffle to see what I would find.
Amid the celestial flutter were the files of my life and times.
Files labeled "laughter" and "miracles", "strength" and "success". Files  labeled "courage" and  "friendship" and "times I'd been blessed."

Filed under "when my heart was in love"  was only your name
and filed under "rejection" the name was the same.
They had been misfiled so I put them in place,
under " lessons learned from heart ache from suffering and pain."
This file was very heavy so I placed it at the end...and hoped that
I would never find my way back to it again.

The Suitcase

 

I was walking along the road on a cold winter day. The wind was pushing against me as if  to stop me from going any further.. I pulled my coat tight around my neck with my right hand. My left hand was gripping a suitcase that was becoming increasing heavy. I started dragging the case, pulling it with all my strength until I felt broken, like I couldn't go on.. My cold, aching hands released the the heavy burden. Not looking back I turned toward the horizon and began walking.  Left on the side of the road, in the bitter cold,  was the suitcase that carried everything I  desperately held on to.  It was full of hurt, sorrow, anger,  regret, fear, resentment and doubt.  I had to set the suitcase down and walk away. The load had  truly became too much to carry.






  

Not One Step Further

 

She walked down the cold wooden steps towards the dark basement below.
The crackled paint flaked off as she lightly trailed her fingers along the top of the steps railing. Faded shades of green and beige drifting down.  Like tarnished confetti landing on the edge of the steps with the appearance of sorrow as they found there resting place.
She took one slow step at the time.  Each stair step groaning with the sound of tired  wood and rusty nails.
What was unseen in the basements depths seemed to settle upon her cheeks and forehead and  mingle into the fullness of her hair.
She stopped midway...as far as she ever allowed herself to go. The silence was heavy. All she could hear was her breathing. Each released breath lingered somewhere in front of her chest as if it wanted to stay with her and not drift into what was beyond.
The smell  was just as she had remembered from previous times when she had stood at the borderline that she would never allow herself to cross.
It was a warm  amber smell. In some ways comforting,  some ways, familiar.  But at the same time it seemed as if it was making the choice to move forward for her, as if it was pulling her in. There was a stirring of indecision. It made her feel like she wanted what the dark caverns of the basement had to offer but also feared it would be filled with deceit.
She slowly turned and  ascended the stairs. Stepping out of the stairway and feeling the cold brass doorknob beneath her  trembling fingers she secured the door behind her.  She walked away and  heavily carried with her that overwhelming feeling she had learned to live with for so many years. The feeling of wanting something but  letting the fear of sadness or pain stop her from going just one step further.

Under Fire

 Its been said  many times that people are in our lives for
a reason or a season and this is true, but its the transition that makes a difference.
Some people are carried away with the wind and life's waves of change.... but some people toss a match into the tender trees and have no regard for what gets burned.
How should we consider the one who burns up love. Are they so blessed with an abundance of friendships and love that they can turn their back to the ashes.
Love and friendship are not a given and there is never a limit of people in need... if you feel you have
a bounty of such treasures then be sure to offer  a portion of what you have to someone who would
never toss a match.

photo COHolley

 

 

                                            The fragrance of compassion is welcomed in every garden.

When I Close My Eyes

When I close my eyes I can still feel your shoulders beneath my finger tips.
I can still hear the rhythm of your breathing as you sleep.
When I close my eyes I can still remember the dance we did that was called our life.
But when I open my eyes it is  all washed away like a storm that left nothing behind.

Stale Perfume

photo by COHolley

 

 

The perfume is stale in the bottle.

The roses, like paper turned to dust.

Webs are in the windowsill and leaves are at the door.

 

This is the house where loneliness lives.

 

COHolley

It is better that I would hold you gentle in my heart than to let the love go and suffer what would take its place ~ COHolley

Red Light

I stopped at a red light today and looked over at the man in the truck next to me. He was handsome, really handsome. He had on a white starched shirt and the sleeves were slightly rolled up on his tan arms. He had his left arm casually resting over the top of the steering wheel....you know, draped kinda cool like. I couldn't see his jeans but I'm sure they were a perfect fit. The window wasn't down but I believe he smelled like Calvin Klein. I couldn't hear his radio but I imagined it was playing Bruno Mars "When I was Your Man".
I'm aware of my 60 years, my tired eyes and the diminished love in my heart. But every once in a while its like a cool autumn breeze blows over the low burning embers in my spirit and makes them glow a bit brighter..... until the breeze dies down and the glow dims again.