Intimacies never put on paper

Words

Not just any, they must hold weight

Thought out, prudently placed

pulsating energy head to toe

Not easily executed

Not always received 

but I will not settle for anything less

I love words, being moved by another’s, a miracle by chance

Writing

Giving my time, dedicated to a 6am rise 

where the mind is clearest, before the clutter 

Constructing the, always so close to, perfect poem

Never satisfied

Determining completion consumes strength, preventing editing till death

The goal – expose guarded feelings, alter perspectives

I love writing, therapy for both writer and reader 

Sleeping

Teasing mornings, slipping back into sleep 

Dreams teeter totter on the edge lucidity, euphoria

I have control over them then

Stealing time to nap 

mood shifting, energy bursting gold

“I’m sneaking home” – this is what for

I love sleeping, a rarity in itself

Home

The feeling of driving back to family, the coast

Being on a bike all day, the freedom that brings

No plans

Effortless enjoyment

Eyes meet eyes, generations apart sharing present moment bliss

Stopping to reminisce, places I never took for granted but always miss

I love home, Southern California roots glittering Nevada deserts 

Touching stone

The intimacy of being one with earth, rocks, walls

Beauty in trusting the body 

Each breath, carefully placed fingers

shifting body weight, pressure to toes

Dedication inventing artistic movements, ebb and flow 

The only thing I have found that commands all attention

And that, I’m in love with. 

          -Breelyn

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