Cologne

I longed to feel,
The safety that is real,
When someone stronger than you holds you near.

So I bought a cologne,
Sprayed it on the blanket I had sown,
And held myself tight as I slept on my own.


I remember,
Old days of December,
That felt warmer. Now there's just ember.

My face pressed,
Against the warmth of his chest,
I don't regret it, though he left like the rest.

I'd rather know,
I'd rather have it and never see it grow,
Then not have it at all and never know the meaning of home.

The Fragrance of Your Presence

Even if the whole world I cannot trust, it's you I cannot resist,
The fragrance of your presence is the proof that you exist.

Your voice is the definition of gentleness,
Your touch a healing for the brokenhearted,
Your love as invariant as light.

I wish I had understood earlier,
How powerless I am,
And how insignificant my deeds are,
In altering your adherence to me.

You don't simply love; you are Love-
The source that doesn't run out.
The essence of your eyes is only affection,
Never disappointment or rejection.

You are my home,
The most intimate of friends,
I know you won't let me go,
Even if the world ends.

My Little Cottage

I saw this painting of a little cottage,
Warm and cozy,
With smoke rising from its chimney.

It is right next to a river,
Secluded somewhere in nature,
Surrounded with trees,
With a thousand shades of color!

How often do I ache to go there,
To be alone,
And to be free;
Free of the burden of loving and caring,
Free from the pain of being loved and seen.

How I long to be bored,
With no meaningless activities to fill my life,
And no empty distractions to pull me aside.
With all my time devoted to my pursuit of dreams,
I can finish what I start,
And reap what I sow.

I wish to simply lie in the grass completely naked,
And soak in the sun as nature intended,
And not be intimidated by the imperfectness of my body.
I wish to stop seeing myself as a bundle of faults,
But a masterpiece of a craftsman,
A beauty set apart.

I long to wander as if I'm lost,
As if I'm looking for something still unfound.
I wish to walk without rushing anywhere,
Without making haste,
Without worrying one bit.
Perhaps then I might discover a cave,
Hidden behind the waterfall,
That echoes my voice as I sing to the nightfall.

I will read a thousand books
And why not write one myself?
Learn how to cook,
And grow my own food.

I will drink tea as I sit on my porch,
And carry the moonlight as my torch.
I will listen to the music of such peace and harmony,
That only nature can compose and sing to me.

I will dream a little and then a little more.

In my little cottage I will be safe with me and myself,
No one to hurt me and no one to hurt.
I will love myself fully,
And express myself freely,
And live as if I were invisible...

How I long for my little cottage that doesn't exist.
But then, why on earth does the imagination persist?
It is in the mind of the heart,
Where I can do things unfathomable,
Be with people unreachable,
And own places unobtainable!

So in my little cottage is where I am every night,
When I close my eyes and snuggle in tight.
And it feels better and even more real,
Than if it was any more than just a dream.