heartbreak and cigarettes

Tag: art

  • Wildflowers.

    Wildflowers.

    The way the wildflowers
    sway back and forth
    in the summer breeze
    reminds me of your spirit;
    stay open and free.

    “Wildflowers” – sugar and sandalwood

  • The end of us.

    The end of us.

    I watched the rain
    streak down the glass
    of the windows.
    Thinking of the last time we spoke;
    I didn’t realize that would be
    the end of us.

    “The end of us” – sugar and sandalwood

  • Learning to let go.

    Learning to let go.

    I’ve had things
    ripped away from me.
    I’ve given things away.
    Some things,
    I’ve lost.
    And in the end,
    it all remains the same:
    I learned to let go.

    “Learning to let go.” – sugar and sandalwood

  • Your worth is limitless…

    Your worth is limitless…

    Your worth is
    limitless,
    like a vibrant,
    fragrant
    field of lilacs
    swaying
    back and forth
    winds
    of the
    spring.

    “Your worth is limitless…” – sugar and sandalwood

  • I waited

    I waited

    I waited for you
    like the sand waits for
    the ocean tide to roll back
    in on the beach. Shifting it,
    rejuvenating,
    making it new again.

    “I waited” – sugar and sandalwood

  • Relax.

    Relax.

    Relax.
    In just a few months
    (that will feel like
    a few lifetimes),
    You will forget
    that he ever consumed
    the vast majority
    of your thoughts
    and your heart.

    “Relax.” – sugar and sandalwood

  • The city skyline.

    The city skyline.

    The city skyline
    against the sparkling black
    backdrop of the night
    sky reminded me of you
    and the times we spent
    together; days I wish
    we could get back.

    “The city skyline” – sugar and sandalwood

  • Lost.

    Lost.

    Yesterday, I got lost.
    But,
    I didn’t realize it until I
    reached my destination. Somehow,
    I got to where I was going
    without a map —

    my phone died,
    I couldn’t recognize any strangers
    on the sidewalk with faces
    that looked like they knew
    where they were going either.

    But,
    I’m sure they arrived where they’d intended,
    just as I did, and
    I’m sure, like me,
    they’d had no idea
    they were even trying
    to get somewhere
    in the first place,
    or that they were even

    lost.

    “Lost.” – bem

  • Bathing.

    Bathing.

    Last night, I bathed for the first time.
    It was a beautiful, porcelain bathtub with
    silver claw feet.
    Inside it, I reclined.

    I rubbed the soap across my skin
    with sponges and soaked in salt and
    exhaled,
    surrounded by vanilla candles, lit
    and the fresh, cool spring air wafted in through
    the window – I inhaled.

    Then I climbed out of the porcelain tub,
    dried myself off, sauntered
    over to the window,
    drew the curtains, and
    pulled open the window further and
    found the entire neighborhood was sparkling
    clean.

    “Bathing.” – bem

  • Hatchlings.

    Hatchlings.

    In the first grade,
    our little group walked
    double-file down the hall,
    around the corner,
    behind our teacher
    to the wing with “KINDERGARTEN”
    painted so high on the wall,
    it almost touched the ceiling.

    “To see a surprise,” they said.
    We went into the large classroom
    at the end of the hall to find
    little incubators filled with eggs,
    warming.
    “Baby chickens,” they said.

    We waited and waited
    and watched and
    came back and left
    in anticipation.

    Then finally, eventually, the
    little brown eggs started
    to crack and crack
    and little beaks poked through,
    jutted between jagged edges,
    fracturing the smooth, tawny shell
    surfaces they used to call home.

    We chattered amongst ourselves
    in excitement, watching intently and buzzing
    as we watched each little neon orange
    beak clickclickclick through.

    – First delicate and untouchable, now
    a minor inconvenience they needed
    to rid themselves of – too
    confining and dark, encapsulated
    from oxygen and sunlight.

    Finally, all the little chicks
    were out!
    “Wow,” our little 6-7 year old
    mouths gaped open
    in amazement and as they hatched,
    we cracked open
    our eyes, mouths, minds
    with a little more experience and
    ready for the next surprise.

    “Hatchlings.” – bem