Running out of time

My mother’s curly hair is growing strands of grey.
She had cut it, saying how much time it takes to take care of it.
There is never enough time.
To tend to it,
to share love,
to say I am sorry for all the ways you felt pain learning to knit yourself some semblance of life.

I associate grey with lateness
Like when the sun is too late to come up and we wake up to grey horizons
Or when it’s existence on my mother’s head let’s me know time is sipping away.

I am thinking this as I take my morning run.
Perhaps to chase my blues away
Or maybe
To see if I can catch up with time.


Image from Pixabay


In this darkness where I sit feeling my way around this thing we call life,
Sometimes I stumble upon love;
Stale, dry,
something dragged in by the mice.
I sit with it,
Nibbling, breathing life into it,
hoping it comes alive
to sit beside me in this darkness.



My love;
take my hand,
walk me through your hideouts of joy;
The quirky jokes,
The laughter that follows your body as it unbuttons your joy,
The unruly shows
and your strange sensual dances.

Tell me about grief;
How it sits in the depths of your heart
Gobbling up any little joy you stock up.
And I will tell you of mine;
How I rush it along my being
never offering it a seat
like a guest overstaying their welcome.

My love,
Let me love you in the mundaness
When the days are plain blue
And sanity comes in familiar music tunes.


Image courtesy of


~~ I like to jot down your name in between cities as I travel;
Different landscapes to remember you by.

~~Your favorite color is blue
(I think),
for there is no other explanation for that blue denim jacket that I loathe.

~~Your eyes are like stars;
Distant mellow lights one makes their wishes on.

~~You smile like you are passing on a secret
An inside joke that must not be told to anyone else outside of us.

The point, my love, besides I love you,
Is that I get a tingly sensation
Whenever you cross my mind.


Born of the Sun

Born of the sun
We traveled momentarily towards it.
Punctuating life with a few moments of bliss;
Of a lover found in the mundaness of days,
a child’s laughter (someone else’s child),
the in-between memories of a night well spent/drunk,
The nothingness of Sunday mornings…

And the occasional crashes of loss;
The too soon orgasm,
Blank bank accounts,
Slouching couches
and mismatched tiles.

Born of the sun
We travelled momentarily towards it.
And not even its warmth could keep us here.


Image courtesy of Wikipedia


This is a cave
where my goodbyes bounce off the walls;
boomerangs of emotions
that land at my feet

I want to say I am sorry
For wringing your heart like that.
But that would be a broken record
And you,
An audience too tired to care.



What if I told you
you remind me of my smoking days;
Slow warm cigarette drags
and romantic thoughts.

Do you believe we were meant to meet like this?
My heart tender, plump and beating.
Your mouth hungry for a feast.

How long, do you think this would last?


Travelling Light

I am travelling light;
No emotions from yesterday
Or bones in my closet.
Just a few lingering scents
And memories of laughter;
pockets of joy that I am keeping close…
And maybe a jar of tears
From times I have fractured my bones trying to remold me.

I am travelling light,
And I hope to see you on the other side.