I shiver, my phone’s battery on red,
as I kneel, unclothed, on the bed,
the smell of citrus permeating the sheets, 
the uneven spray of the shower beats
a rhythm,
displaced water hitting the tub’s floor,
soon your steps will approach the door,
but until then,
thoughts of you occupy my mind,
can’t wait ’till we’re entwined,
two souls as one,
buzzing to the cadence of many thousand days past, 
in anticipation of a future that will outlast
this moment,
the tick-ticking of the seconds,
time passing, yet love beckons
no notice,
only you and I,


Please forgive me, for I have sinned,
it’s been so long since my last confession.

On my knees, looking into your eyes,
I poured out my heart, but left with more questions.

The penance you gave brought me no absolution,
I counted and prayed, slid the beads trough my fingers.

Yet the weight on my shoulders, just felt much heavier,
each step so wobbly, with a guilt that still lingers.

What do you want from me?
Haven’t I paid?

I walk with compassion,
On this ground that you paved.

I give of my core, hope for each soul I encounter,
and my heart is so open, it often gets crushed.

So why, then, does it seem,
that my own voice is always hushed?

Can you hear me?
Do you care?

Oh, God! What if the one not listening,
is the me who’s too scared?


I see you in the curve of my clavicle,
in the slope of my neck,
the beckoning brown fleck,
who’s tickle is audible 

I feel you in the needy purse of my lips,
in my teeth that must bite,
the contortion to keep quiet,
and my hands that twist and grip

I hear you in the involuntary sigh,
in the breathy, wanting moan,
the love to hate it groan,
and the fevered pitch, so high

I taste you in the salt on my skin,
in the wet, bourbony trail,
the pine-woodsy, goosebump Braille,
marking everywhere you’ve been

I need you, your every sensation,
won’t you let me awaken yours,
sink into your pours,
each the other’s salvation?

Tell Me

With kisses as soft
as a butterfly wing,
tell me I’m
your everything.

With a grip as forceful
as a vice,
tell me, command me,
don’t be nice.

With fingertips as gentle
as a summer breeze,
tell me I’m your good girl,
that I please.

With all your weight,
cover me like a blanket,
tell I’m safe, that you’ll
guide us through it.

With strikes as sure
as the beating of your heart,
tell me you noticed,
that it’s a fresh start.

With caresses as warm
as your whisper in my ear,
listen as I tell you
I’ll always be here.

May I?

May I borrow your smile today?
Mine hasn’t gone,
But I’m afraid, it won’t stay.

May I exhale in your embrace?
I’ve been holding my breath,
Can’t keep up this pace.

May I offer you my truest of truths?
Out in the open,
So forward we can move.

May I loan you my heart on my sleeve?
My skin feels transparent,
And I need to believe.

May I rest with my head in your lap?
My compass is broken,
And you are my map.


the day is done

meet me at home

no more masks

imagination can roam 

open the door 

screw the lights

against the wall

pin me tight

tangle your fingers

in my hair 

tug it downward

hold me there

kiss me fierce 

no “how was your day”

let your hungry mouth

steal my words away

take my hand 

lead me down the stairs

give me that look

that tells me….beware

lock the door 

and in the moonlight 

let’s get lost in one another

lost in the night

As I Am

I got another tattoo a week ago, y’all! It may not sound like a big deal, but it marks a sort of milestone for me.

I was never a super thin young adult. I’ve always had curves, but I wasn’t unhappy with them. I wasn’t overweight; I was active and healthy.

After I graduated college and started working long hours, I began to slowly, but steadily gain weight. I got married, I had two kids. By the time I was 35 or so, I weighed 260 pounds.

For many years, I wouldn’t even get on a scale. I was too afraid to face the truth – and the truth wasn’t in the number, per say, it was in the acknowledgement of the symptom, the number representing, without a doubt, that there were underlying issues that I wasn’t addressing. I didn’t want to see them, and I certainly hoped no one else could. I tried to ensure that, actually.

And for a very long time I cared far too much about what others thought. I wanted to fit in, to look strong, like I had my shit together, like our family did. I needed others to need me and to rely on me, but I couldn’t need others. I couldn’t let anyone see my pain, or my perceived faults. And certainly not weakness.

In short, I sought my self worth from sources outside myself. I derived my worth in maintaining the strong front, in being strong for others, in the not needing others. In looking ‘perfect’, so I didn’t have to see the rest. But the cost was so very high.

It had become a continuous cycle of doing for others, of not living up to other’s expectations or my own unrealistic ones, feeling like a failure, stuffing feelings away, cycle, and repeat.

Eventually, I got to a point where I saw how that was not only affecting me, but also the ones I love. I knew I could not continue to live that way, stuffing the real me away, living with regret. I needed to be healthy, inside and out, to invest in me in order offer more, to have a more positive impact on the ones I love.

I exercised, joined a walking club, and weight watchers. I talked openly and honestly with my husband. I left my job and started a very small business.

I began a life-long journey to being me.

Investing in myself has had the single most significant impact in my life. It’s impact has been far-reaching. The personal growth has been astounding, a never-ending cycle of eye-opening experience, with my loved ones and friends, in my relationship with nature, my spiritual existence, and the world as a whole.

Becoming vulnerable and open with my husband has been the investment with the hugest significance. My surrender to this man I love has created the safest place I’ve ever known, and I thrive. I’m free to be me.

But what I’ve come to realize, is that my self image and my feelings of worth could not possibly be wholly fixed by this dynamic. No matter how he looks at me, cherishes me, takes amazing, sensual photos of me, guides me,  and makes me feel desired and sexy and loved beyond my understanding – I must see myself as he sees me in order to truly receive it!

Can he support me? Can he not tolerate me not taking care of me? Can he help hold me accountable for my behaviors which are detrimental to my health and well-being? YES! But the rest is up to ME. The will to heal has to reside in ME. The acceptance of who I am must reside in me FIRST. And THAT is the best gift I could offer him, I think.

If I rely solely on him or any other external force to give me my sense of worth and value, it won’t last. There’s too much room for humanness and mistakes, scrutiny and doubt. And it’s completely unfair! No one else should carry that responsibility for me, it’s just too much, and it’s setting everyone up for failure.

My journey has been one of learning to see my worth, simply because I am. Of learning to seek and to accept help, and not be the one who always has to appear to be strong and have my shit together. Just human, messy, fallable, me.

Here’s where the tattoo comes in! Over the winter, I gained 10 pounds. My instinctual response is to feel like a failure, set unrealistic expectations, feel defeated, cycle, and repeat. I won’t do it this time! I won’t continue it!

I was supposed to get that tattoo a few years ago when I reached my fitness goals, but it never happened. Recently, M told me he wanted me to go get it. Despite that self-defeating voice that tried to tell me I didn’t deserve it because I’d gained the 10 pounds, I got the tattoo anyway, a reminder that I am worth it, that I need to forgive myself, and accept where I am. A reminder that I can accomplish my goals, despite setbacks. Because I’m worth it. I am not a number on a scale. I’m not worth it only if I ____ or accomplish _____.

I am worthy, as I am.

I chose an owl! A beautiful owl (my daughter got the idea online and hand drew it!), a reminder that I hold the wisdom within, and I need to trust in me. I am my own wings, and I need to continue to spread them….and fly.

If You Let Her

She is made of fire and ice,
Of passion and vice,
Willing to pay the price

She is made of sugar and spice
Both naughty and nice,
No need to ask twice 

She is made of snips and snails,
She’ll dirty her nails,
And even put up the sails

She is made of paths and trails,
Alive in the details,
Never hiding behind veils

She is made of loyalty and love,
She’ll put you above,
Fit you like a glove

She’ll be all of the above,
Be all you dreamed of,
If you let her