Thought before bed

I have this reoccurring feeling that I sleep with someone in my arms. Their head resting on my chest, hearing the beating of my heart. We’re home. Together. We are each other’s home. 

Maybe it’s just a dream. Maybe it’s something else. It’s one of the few things that comfort my sad heart. I hope, if they are real, it comforts them too. 

Wind blown snow

She echos in my place of sanctuary
Looking out the window or curled on the couch
But for this ghost, the wind blown snow serves as isolation
The elemental howling, screaming through the creaking trees
Amidst the snap and pop of the hearthfire
Sitting on the couch reading aloud
Remembering you cuddled against me
Listening with rapt attention

Poem or rant?

Love that is comfortable is a love that is too easy
It is merely comfort
Love that is real always feels a bit uneasy
It should be growing
Changing
And growth, change are always uncomfortable
Like new skin
Without that feeling
Love sits on its laurels
It stagnates
And stagnation leads to the death of love
Let love ride uneasy
Let it be uncomfortable
Let it prompt change
Let it prompt growth
Or else
Prepare yourself for its loss

Head pounding

Is there anything more daunting than the blank page? When your heart and thoughts are awhirl. When your mind is making connections and your heart is making wishes. When your subconscious is screaming for attention and your head is pounding. When your eyes burn from not sleeping and your heart begins to sink. It all becomes too much, and you just want a minutes peace. To sink into the arms of a friend, a lover, and forget. To feel safe. So easy, seductively easy, treacherously easy…