Read Letters to Dandelion Online
Authors: Xve
feel
warm and breathe as
I hug
myself while trying
to
convince me, that I
matter -
at least to me.
And I have
a place in life.
Because,
when I spread
out my
wings, I never
appear
grand. I never
seem to
be able to win
the
hand, of who I love
at any
given time.
Closed
up in my little
home,
it's raining, but
I
wouldn't know. Cause
each
feather, one set on
top of
the other, allows
the rain
to run over and
so, all
I hear, are the
small
pats of water.
drizzling
on my head .
This is
what it's like.
I only
feel good around
me. I
only feel calm
when I
create it and I
only can
provide my
own
surety and peace.
Folded
up, inside these
wings is home.
Through
there's
love,
room and safety
for four
precious more.
Love
me freely,
Really
…
isn’t
that the best way?
Ideally
speaking, I’m always hoping
for
you to come to the day, when
that’s
a reality, to make me happy.
We’ve
talked and both agree,
happiness
is temporary and
comes
from within.
So
with so much practicality, between
us
both, why can’t your heart I seem to win?
I’m
not a trickster,
or
a talker, or a player,
I’m
not a loose cannon,
though
you say I am
J
I’m
just deeply in love
with
you.
I’m
far from perfect, I struggle
daily
and only have my skin to
offer.
Not much I guess, in a
world
glittering with gold and
duress,
that walks hand in hand
like
life and death.
Time.
Time, travels by and it
makes
me sigh, because I
realize,
that this is time I
could
have with you.
You
playing with my face,
you
singing your funny songs,
me
watching you dance,
me
loving you all night long.
Wishes
and hopes, erode,
but
not these.
Youth
ages, nothing lasts forever,
but my words I water like plants
to
bloom in my heart for you.
I
reach for peace and love,
connectedness,
togetherness.
Joy,
discovery, placidity,
longevity,
pleasure beyond
measure
with you –
I
can only put these words out there
and
show you I care,
know you feel something for me
and
hope like a stay of execution
that
I will see you again.
I
love you
And
with my trust,
And
with my sincerity,
all
I can do, is ask you,
to
consider loving me – freely.
I Hold her forever
…
If
we could both take a moment of time,
so
I could wrap my arms around you,
press
you close to my heart, that’s fine.
Feel
your hands on my shoulders,
your
breath express against my chest,
My
legs pressed deeply into your contours,
so
I can identify the softness of just your skin,
I
would never forget our statue,
never
erase this, our moment;
I
hold her forever.
Whether
it be an actual physicality,
or
a memory, that energy, of having
my
heart flow into you and yours
reciprocate
into mine, identifies a
moment
of time in when:
It
felt so right,
and
it became universally true,
those
seconds were created for only
me
and you, to come undeniably together.
So that all the bombs, bullets or armies of
the
past, present and the future, could never
separate us, or take that away.
In
those few moments, when I had
recorded
your smile, twisted the sheets
in
ecstatic release, or screamed your name
when
I came.
I
found you, in the open sea of existence.
It
had to count for something, for from
nothing,
could anything come so great?
And
all I know, is that in those fleeting
seconds
of time, I truly lived, even if I
am
now dead – oh reader, I can attest
that I hold her forever.
The
Dandelion
grows,
from where, no one knows,
as
it comes, then goes, on an often
long
and lonely journey.
This
flower, also a weed, tumbles
as
it seeds, in the winds of time
and
chance, while avoiding romance.
Upon
happenstance of a field of
poppy-whites,
the billowy joy that
they
can bring to your eyes, and
a
smile curves when you realize,
that
they are more beautiful than
most
flowers in the spring.
A
Dandelion clings, to your clothes
and
they separate when the autumn
wind
blows, to spread their magic in
populace
for a new crop to bloom.
They
assemble in mass fashion,
a
sort of family unification and
prove
their dedication so often to
those who know them by the
resiliency that they show.
So
hard to be rid of these dainty
little
iron-willed flowers, so hard
to not admire, but I’ve never seen
a garden desired, as they are the
true odd-ball of all flora.
And
I love her.
The
real Dandelion.
I
completely adore her.
The
human Dandelion.
As
I often wake to find, she is
somewhere
and never near, yet
my
memories and thoughts of
her,
always remain the same.
The Tornado
Touches down and uproots trees,
destroys homes, flips over cars
like they were light as foil.
Nothing can measure its power.
No one can predict their arrival.
As they have often been called,
“The fingers of God.”
Their power is so immense and
yet so similar to the deep feelings
of love that I have for you.
It came when least I knew,
and it cleared so much of
a wide path to allow my
heart to start.
It makes me feel as though I can
do anything with you by my side.
And nothing would stand in my
way, to love you,
to protect you,
to understand you,
to honor you.
My love moves for you to keep
things original.
My love spins for you, to make
sure you are cared for in every way.
My love is a force for you that
even and especially, I, don’t understand.
But I know it’s there.
A Tornado is air, and pressure, and
the forces of nature way beyond our
control.
And so is how I feel, deeply about you.
I love you.
When I see you, my heart spins,
my mind stretches and my happiness
flies.
When I touch you, all my senses come
alive.
When I kiss you, I go to another
world.
But when I make love to you, I almost
near explode. (this you know.)
Many people fear and hate Tornados.
To me, they’re a strange, yet wonderful thing.
Uncertainty
· · · · · · · · · · |
The Chasm
From one side I can see the most beautiful woman ever, to
me.
As far away as she is, everything there is to love about her
I can see.
I can hear the soothing in her voice and match it to my
scars.
I can watch her hands as she does simple tasks and envision
them
touching me, caressing my back, holding my hand, reaching
out
to me to offer her warmth in a body length embrace.
I can feel her whisper soft hair, brush against my face and
smell
the buoyant fragrance of what makes her so alluring.
I can see the twinkle in her eyes as she seeks meaning
inside my own.
I can feel the wisps of her breath against my nose in
anticipation of
kissing her.
I can see the glisten of saliva on her lips, the limp
preparation of her
tongue.
I can skim the knots of her vertebrae as I glide my fingers
down her back,
The softness of her skin, the press of her things against my
own.
The awkwardness of turning my head, the electricity of our
first kiss.
And then, from the other side, she walks away.
The reach …
Fell short,
as I lay on the beach,
catching my tan,
under the pecan sun.
It used to be fun,
as the world turns,
and my thoughts
would run,