“I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in a numb core of nonfeeling, or stop questioning and criticizing life and take the easy way out. To learn and think: to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.”

 Sylvia PlathThe Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath



A stuntwoman
Jumping to the heights
Women before her never could
Contribute magnificence to the whole of humanity
But on a smaller scale, she could

A stuntwoman
Flinging herself into the arms of fear
She’ll never conquer all
But she couldn’t let herself lose
To something her own mind has created

A stuntwoman
Smashing into obstacles head on
Standing up and cleaning off as though it didn’t hurt
But traces in the asphalt marked her every fall

While missing scars atop her skin memorized them all

A stuntwoman
Walking on a tightrope laced with shards of glass
Defying pain she could glide across that cable

So awe-inspiring, approbation insufficient
As it feels when overcoming unrequited love

Your stuntwoman
Holding a new flame beneath the skin that’s healed
Kindled by the ardor in your voice and touch
Fragile for the first time

She doesn’t mind to softly tremble

A stuntwoman
On which you can pour lighter fluid
She will hand you the match

As she has no fear to be ignited
Because fire cannot really be afraid

“That there are no random acts. That we are all connected. That you can no more separate one life from another than you can separate a breeze from the wind.”

Eddie shook his head. “We were throwing a ball. It was my stupidity, running out there like that. Why should you have to die on account of me? It ain’t fair.”

The Blue Man held out his hand. “Fairness,” he said, “does not govern life and death. If it did, no good person would ever die young.”

– Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven

Part 1

Like sand you seep straight through the slits

I latch on tightly and still lose grip

Sentences superfluous when loving on borrowed time

Relinquished the stories of how you could be mine

Persuasive persuasion still goes unacknowledged

But pain is pervasive, how am I still astonished?

Still ingenuous thinking your words were genuine

Easily amenable when you say she’s a friend

Sensibility runs free but the love isn’t cheap

A smile belies all the grief that runs deep

“We all need someone to look at us. We can be divided into four categories according to the kind of look we wish to live under. The first category longs for the look of an infinite number of anonymous eyes, in other words, for the look of the public. The second category is made up of people who have a vital need to be looked at by many known eyes. They are the tireless hosts of cocktail parties and dinners. They are happier than the people in the first category, who, when they lose their public, have the feeling that the lights have gone out in the room of their lives. This happens to nearly all of them sooner or later. People in the second category, on the other hand, can always come up with the eyes they need. Then there is the third category, the category of people who need to be constantly before the eyes of the person they love. Their situation is as dangerous as the situation of people in the first category. One day the eyes of their beloved will close, and the room will go dark. And finally there is the fourth category, the rarest, the category of people who live in the imaginary eyes of those who are not present. They are the dreamers.”

-Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Between Us

I feel safer by your side than inside of my own head

Making marks on all the pages of the books that you have read

And I’ve been scared to say “I miss you” since I’m the one that left

But months continue to race on and life of laughter is bereft

I took great pride in all my musings that I’d forgotten what you’ve taught

Now I hold the memories dear, hoping they were not for naught

So I replay all the glances, that you couldn’t help but throw

You’re doing better by your lonesome, something I won’t ever know

And I know that I’ve been selfish, that our ship has long since sailed

But the happiness I wished you is the thing I hope prevailed

When someone seeks,” said Siddhartha, “then it easily happens that his eyes see only the thing that he seeks, and he is able to find nothing, to take in nothing because he always thinks only about the thing he is seeking, because he has one goal, because he is obsessed with his goal. Seeking means: having a goal. But finding means: being free, being open, having no goal.

-Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha