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[gettingbywithlove]

Wings

In his dusty eyes

in his dusty heart

he is her happiness, her healer;

with his dusty hands

he cannot fix her.

She will not let him.

[gettingbywithlove]

Sleep

I write to fall asleep,

listening to quiet songs of missing

You, thoughts of you plague my mind,

despite my attempt to forget.

I’m missing your strength, your arms,

wishing I’d gotten your scent

on something of mine.

Miles away, and a sea apart

wanting my heart next to me,

filling my arms, hands in my hair,

tear across distance willingly.

  At least sleep is close

I feel its approach,

slow seductive saunter,

so similar to yours.

Maybe I’ll dream of you.

Maybe I just won’t dream.

[gettingbywithlove]

It’s hard to leave

She missed him when he wasn’t around, doubts wormed their way in when she wasn’t looking. And she hated that she was always so indecisive. As great as things were when they were together, she couldn’t push away the nagging sensation that this was wrong, that they were wrong. She couldn’t believe it had been so long. Five months. And only two months worth of memories, half of them hickies, the rest were all the spaces in between where she’d been left waiting. Trying to keep herself busy. He didn’t have much time to spend with her, it was like being in a long distance relationship while living a seven-minute walk away. She didn’t want leave him, but forcing herself to stay was no better.

[gettingbywithlove]

Wonder beckoned me to the window,

wide eyes, frilly dress, and bouncing pigtails,

she scrambled to sit upon its sill.

 Exuberance beat her there,

sturdy brown dress and dirty blonde hair,

brushed back by the breeze as she looked down.

  Worry rushed up behind them,

lips pursed and forehead wrinkled, apron and dress aflutter,

gently coaxing them down.

  Safety leaned against the wall,

poofy coat and padded hat,

feet planted firmly on the ground.