The Paper Heart

You are here: Home


The wait is over

She is his remedy.

The harbor beaming a breathe of life into his dying lungs. The fresh air reviving his heart from suffocation.

No ocean is too deep that he wouldn’t risk life and limb to reach the warmth of her caress.

The love he has for her is not water under the bridge. It is the crashing waves on celestial shore lines.

The world could not possibly grasp the magnitude of her depth. Yet he would drown in those waters if she called it a thing of beauty.

For now he wades through her words in the daylight. Waiting for a visit from her through the pages of expression.

Wet with her gentle refreshment longing for an authentic taste of her poetic tongue.

Eyesight is not needed to see the fullness of who she is. He is looking only with his heart.

She is his goddess holding a proverbial pen. Writing love notes on his fierce exterior.

A literary force breaking barriers into mosaic pieces at his feet.

She is the moonbeam he has been sleeping under.

The figment tiptoeing through his dreams awakening his senses in the dark.

She is all things encompassing wishful thinking.

He is her majestic maestro.

He pulls the strings of her glorious instrument with gentle precision.

Images of his intent direct her into a smooth rhythmic dance.

She often daydreams of his body moving toward her from across a room.

The feel of his confident hands gliding over her every groove. He is her rhyme and her reason.

The muse peeling layer upon layer to the center piece of her truth.

She is not one for opening her secret garden to the atmosphere. Yet somehow he holds the master key to unlocking her creative soul.

She has longed for a man of his caliber. Far too weary of thumbing through the bitter chapters of fleeting romance.

He is the fresh page awaiting the story only she could produce. A novel worthy to be written.

One day their limbs will be at rest from walking toward one another in dreams.

One day affirming with outstretched arms they are one in this moment and always have been.

In a whisper she shall speak to him of poems unwritten and songs unsung.

He will watch her lips move in reality.

She will watch him exhale with sighs of thankfulness.

The multitude of meaning from one small phrase “the wait is over.”

Share

Old Flames

When my eyes met yours and our shoulders brushed in the crowd it all came flooding back.

I didn’t expect it.

My heart was not prepared to flip and flop. At first I ignored it. Reminded myself of the words and phrases I had recited so long.

Over.

Acceptance.

It was only real for me.

It was fleeting.

A few moments really.

He is happy.

You are happy.

He doesn’t love you.

You no longer love him.

Move. On.

I’m not sure who this girl is. The girl who flopped her heart out in a crowd and stapled it to a sleeve. Welcome back bleeding soul.

I am the expert on letting go and turning tables. I am the girl who washes my hands clean of things that don’t stay. Easy. But who knew in your sight my strength would crumble.

I wasn’t prepared.

The fist clenching my throat for what seems eternity loosened its grip. I finally just threw every word into the wind and let them fall like confetti.

I told you I love you. I told you many things. I walked away from you without a touch. Without a moment of interlaced hands.

Yet standing there exchanging thought warped my body into imagination. What I wanted to do was put my arms around you to see if I still fit the same as I remembered.

But I didn’t.

I let the moment sit in what it was meant to be. A chance meeting of unexpected. An opportunity to tell you that I will most likely always be tangled up in the could have been. Wrapped up in the briefness of our beauty.

Again, I wasn’t prepared.

I thought my insides had finalized this for me. I will always fail to fully understand why we didn’t bridge the vast gap between us.

I will always wonder if you and I are thinking of each other in the present while in the midst of creating futures with others.

I will always wonder why letting me go was so seamless for you.

I will always wonder if what you said to me was your truth or a response based on the tears welling as I said goodbye.

I hope you know that my heart leaps gracefully when I think of your found happiness. I want that for you.

I would be lying however to say I don’t envy your strength in release of me.

I will tell you that it is my firm belief we could have written chapters of a beautiful life together.

We could have been all the things we spoke of. The nights we laid nose to nose talking of plans and expressing the areas we complemented each other’s lives so perfectly. The dreams we could have made a reality. The foundation we and our children could have planted their feet firmly on.

I now know what those stories I read are about. I’m living it. The people that create worlds with one person yet take the longing for another to their graves.

I love you. I probably always will. You were my person. I know that for sure.

Today as I greet the morning I promise I will take my hands off of the past. I may write of you, of us from time to time as we are a brilliant muse but I revert back to what my mind told me prior to greeting your face.

Bittersweet release.

Share

Let Me

Let me love you reckless.

Raw.

Now.

Always.

Leaving my mark in red lipstick all over your mouth.

I will allow your hands to slide against the dangerous curves of my mysterious form.

Beneath these thin layers lies the ride your soul has long anticipated taking.

The one you’ve laid awake at night imagining.

Take a peek. I’m ready. Are you?

Unwrap that of which is yours. It always has been.

Grasp me and hold on for dear life.
Anchor my longing body so tight against you that I forget to breathe.

I no longer need air to survive. I’m living on the taste of you alone.

Tangle your tongue with mine and lick my innermost desires.

Crash into me.
Teach me with your force why the tides engulf sunset shore lines.

You wanted me. Here I am.

Transparent.

Nothing to conceal.

Every inch of flawed beauty in your sight.

Can you read the story on my skin before the flame of our chemistry burns chapters down?

I want you to know me whole before the traces of my past go up in smoke.
Let the ashes fall where they may.

It is true that beneath my strong, wanting exterior lies a fragile heart. Glued together with time and acceptance.

Protected from the harsh elements of doubt and fear. It has been clothed for far too long.

Undress it with patient hands. It is yours for exploration.

Dig to the center. There is so much there to find.

Deep inside is the place where your name resides. It was etched in permanent ink long before you asked to claim me as your own.

You knew that didn’t you? Your lips say no but your eyes answer differently.

Let me be what you’ve needed. The poetic answer to your late night prayers. I’ve heard your wishful whispers through the distant air.

We are the ones who bleed for something real.
Together we are the only authentic truth.

I want you. I know that you want me.

Reckless.

Raw.

Now.

Always.

Share

Unspoken

With every thought of you my heart beats with eager anticipation and my lungs fill with heavy breath.

Still.

There is a sweet restlessness in this constant.

Words are dancing in my mouth longing to escape to the atmosphere. My voice often falters when my lips are brave enough to part.

I want released of the iron fist that clenches my throat, holding back so much your ears need to hear.

I’m far past worn with the debate in my mind. This time I want to forget the rules.

I want to fill the space between us with the secrets I’ve held.

I want to make contact with your eyes and tell you the thousand ways you are ever constant in my mind.

How no time has stolen the heightened capacity of physical sensation in me for you.

What if you have been waiting for me to come out of silence. What if you too have been sleeping with unspoken expression for me.

What if we let the moment given to us slide through trembling fingers. It is true that everything aired could crumble like burned paper in our hands.

But what if it unleashed a fire still burning between us. The one our pride said was gone. One we would have never been warmed with again had we left words unsaid.

Share

Don’t

Don’t fall in love with me.

Not yet.

Don’t fall for the way my words make you burn with unbridled passion.

Or the way my eyes expose the secrets that you’ve hidden from others.

Do not succumb to the ease of conversation or the lips that kiss your lids awake from wishful daydreams.

Don’t fall in love with my mosaic heart. That of which seems so alluring.

You see it is pieced together with finely woven threads. Glued together with a sticky past of hurt and longing.

Shards still scattered in hands I can no longer touch.

And although I dream of submerging in the depths of our connection I am not ready to drown in these waters.

Yet I ask of you… Please hold onto me while I find my way whole.

Because more than anything I want to show you the light beyond the shadow of this art.

Share