Love my soul
Love my heart
Love my mind
Love my dance
Love me being kind
Love me being right
Love me truly
Love me in a dark times
Love me when I am old and still brave to go through every inhuman wave
Love me when I am myself
About the Creator
Lightness
Alien
writing in the moment
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Rhythm of nature
Touching thoughts from afar she felt the presence of being inside herself and where she wanted to be and the desire was to be safe happy full of life and without the difficulties that were caused by difficult people Where could she escape this time was nowhere she was here where she was now with all those who were difficult the only escape was the state of being away or being close and the world here and now not only her inner world but the most tangible one mentally did not come as fast as before reality entered with an energy that was not easy to avoid Some days seemed so difficult, that the eternal miracle of existence and the power of the nature of angels and God was one way to survive, but there was something more in nature, maybe the nature could no longer revive and heal as much as she used to, but she could always return to where there was hope, where there was a strong will to fight and the breath of life in every inch appreciating what is here and now, this contrast of thoughts became a refuge, and the sight and experience of nature helped reality to exist without brutality and chaos, giving peace and solace to the spirit.
By LightnessExclusive • about a year ago
Foot Bindings
I asked my grandmother how she knew she'd fallen in love. I am not sure I ever did love him, she said. This was before I met my husband. I was naive, a naked spring, a raw nerve of a thing. That cannot ever be me, I knew. Sadness swept in gently like a Moscow thaw. It is no simple thing, looking into a woman's vast soul and seeing its foot bindings. Now, in Italy divorced with my skin singed off, when I say I don't love him mean: I have succeeded at feeling nothing most days and it mostly works. Do you want the comfort of Nothing? Do you want Nothing, too? Be warned: you'll never be free, even when you are nothing. Here is what doesn't work: Accepting the stages of grief. Talking about it. Sitting with the feeling. Missing him—no, the person you were when you believed in death do us part. Writing poetry. That, too. When I say I don't love him I mean: I feel capsized in an endless, starved tide. What sometimes works: selective memory. You must forget ripe tomatoes and his beard and feeling perfectly sheltered in a big blue world. Forget coffee in bed, laughter watching TV, blowing out the candles on the birthday cake and the quiet all-encompassing knowledge that you are chosen. Remember only how love turned to a banal everyday survival act, a trapeze act unsure whether he will catch you, how the warmth stagnated and became sour, remember the foot bindings and remember the resentment boiling in your veins as you stick it out for the kids. Six-hour Netflix binges help, too. A man's fingers tracing your spine. Frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Random trips to the museum just to stand near things that last a while. The realization that crying won’t change anything. Seeing that life is just a dream, and refusing to participate in your own suffering. Bite your fist. Walk on eggshells around joy. When I say I don't love him, I mean he didn’t break my heart, he just stopped touching it and it forgot how to beat right.
By Ella Bogdanovaa day ago in Poets
Brainwashing, Soul Food, and Torches of Freedom: Eat More to be More
Eat More Bacon Now Smoke More Cigarettes Now Eat More To be More (“We are governed, our minds are molded, our tastes formed, our ideas suggested, largely by men we have never heard of.” -Edward Bernays, the Jew who Hitlter tried to hire.. . . )
By SAMURAI SAM AND WILD DRAGONS5 days ago in Poets
Feelings Never Die
It is Valentine's Day again, and it bought back memories that were over fifty years old. It bought me back to 1971, and I woke up and I knew my baby was due today. I was big and pregnant, and I felt like I was about to burst wide open. Imagine my surprise when the doctor told my I had a due date of February 14. I couldn't believe it, and since my baby was due today, I felt I could indulge myself a bit. I had gained a lot of weight, and chocolate was on the no-no list, but I had came to the end of this pregnancy, and I hoped it would be okay, after all I would deliver this baby today. So I walked across the street to the grocery story, and bought myself, a peppermint patty, covered in chocolate, my favorite. Me and my Valentine's baby would enjoy it together.
By Susan Payton4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Everyone wants to be loved the way you have described. - Well Done!!!
Short, sweet, and full of soul! This feels like a love letter to both self and another—unconditional, steady, and true. That last line seals it beautifully. Love me when I am myself—the purest kind of love there is.