Sometimes I think a woman like me wasn’t meant to be held indefinitely. 

Sometimes I think a woman like me wasn’t meant to be held indefinitely. 

We said goodbye as if it was forever but knew this force could (and perhaps would) destroy any existing structure in its path. This was valiant gesture; masochistic in nature but no less necessary than following it through.  One more kiss, one more look, one more moment of our faces suspended in longing just inches from each other.  Was I drunk or simply intoxicated by his exhilarating scent?

We said goodbye as if it was forever but knew this force could (and perhaps would) destroy any existing structure in its path. This was valiant gesture; masochistic in nature but no less necessary than following it through.  One more kiss, one more look, one more moment of our faces suspended in longing just inches from each other.  Was I drunk or simply intoxicated by his exhilarating scent?

Don’t compare yourself to others. Compare yourself to yourself. How about that for a bold idea? Throw out the notion of referencing yourself against others. It would be so easy to compare and put yourself down. You can all too easily waste time and obscure your own potential by trying to match someone else’s. I figure that the great ones thought differently and let their truths guide them no matter what cost. At the end of the day, you can’t fuck with it. When you compare, you immediately ensnare yourself with a ton of variables and assumptions that can pull you off the trail. Anyone who thinks for themselves and acts upon these thoughts stands a chance.
Henry Rollins, Smile, You’re Traveling  (via anaees)
(Reblogged from lovewordsdreams)

Firebirds, it’s said, have burned the hearts of lesser men.

He’s all stability & power. Too confident to realize he should spend equal time terrified & mystified by her.

She could be had no other way

Let me show you with my laughter how you make me feel all helium and glitter. You would question if this were a compliment. And I would tell you, “Yes, honey; you’re the first.”

Let me show you with my laughter how you make me feel all helium and glitter. You would question if this were a compliment. And I would tell you, “Yes, honey; you’re the first.”

I believe the stories I’ve been told about the end of your life flashing before your eyes. Because when I’ve walked away from every man I’ve loved…the day I’ve known it was over our history plays over in my mind in flashes, in waves, incessantly, unexpectedly. Until I want to surrender and scream, “Take me away.”

The war on men through the degradation of woman

"How is man to recognize his full self, his full power through the eye’s of an incomplete woman? The woman who has been stripped of Goddess recognition and diminished to a big ass and full breast for physical comfort only. The woman who has been silenced so she may forget her spiritual essence because her words stir too much thought outside of the pleasure space. The woman who has been diminished to covering all that rots inside of her with weaves and red bottom shoes.

I am sure the men, who restructured our societies from cultures that honored woman, had no idea of the outcome. They had no idea that eventually, even men would render themselves empty and longing for meaning, depth and connection. There is a deep sadness when I witness a man that can’t recognize the emptiness he feels when he objectifies himself as a bank and truly believes he can buy love with things and status. It is painful to witness the betrayal when a woman takes him up on that offer. He doesn’t recognize that the create of a half woman has contributed to his repressed anger and frustration of feeling he is not enough. He then may love no woman or keep many half women as his prize. He doesn’t recognize that it’s his submersion in the imbalanced warrior culture, where violence is the means of getting respect and power, as the reason he can break the face of the woman who bore him four children.

When woman is lost, so is man. The truth is, woman is the window to a man’s heart and a man’s heart is the gateway to his soul.” 

~Jada Pinkett Smith

I once knew a man who wanted me to be a rock, when in actuality I was a wave.

I would wash over him, make him wet & infuse him with vitality.  He thought he wanted me to be more like him, until he moved to be next to another rock. Now he thirsts for me to wash over him.  

To the parents who walk away from those who bear the responsibility


You may never know the levels of pain and sacrifice permitted to raise your child.  Nor will you be familiar with the strength cultivated by waking up, after a night of struggle & disquiet, to do what must be done to feed him.  The selflessness that is required to care for him, when there are urgent matters within you that need to be attended to, is lost on you.

While you talk about what you plan to do in the future I am here providing for and guiding him. 

Your ignorance of what it takes to raise your son spans lifetimes.   You are unaware of the delicacy of his life pledged only to you, unconscious about the soul that receives directional depth & guidance from you.  You know nothing about how your choices get shaped by that little body seeking protection beside yours.  

Small developmental victories don’t wear your name.  Thank you, we’re glad you came but…then you left and no amount of words describing what you plan to do can overcome that.