I Don’t Want to Be in Love Today

It may sound traitorous,
But I don’t want to be in love today.
Want just me and myself to sail away.
To feel the breeze instead of on my knees,
To be apart except for in the heart,
To be like one yet spread apart,

Even when I love it…there are storms.
Even when I’m with you I’m always torn,
I’m a loner whose living unnaturally,
I’d give it up,
Because I love you naturally.
But with that said
I don’t want to be your love today.
Just pack my things and run away,
And it is nothing that you’ve done
But I’d like to be just me originally,
To be,
Alone like a person,
Even though I’m half a person without you.
Somehow it seems the best thing to do.

You’re not like me.
No you’re desperately in love,
In a way I cannot be,
Because I like to be alone with me,
Does that change a thing?
When I sing my songs about you?
When I only want to dance with you?
If so what shall I do?

Don’t tell me I’m not a lover,
If everything isn’t about him,
I love and I do miss him,
But I miss me myself alone too,
So the wisest thing to do,
Is temporarily to try  to be,
Alone with me.

*Poetry for an introverted lover.

Writing Wednesday: 5 Day Romance Writing Challenge!

Let’s keep the energy from National Novel Writing Month going and have a 5 day challenge! Every day write at least 1200 words of romance that can be as clean or dirty as you like! The goal is to explore different types of relationships and what romance can be. Don’t limit yourself to Nicholas Sparks style dramas. Go anywhere you want with your works! Just try to hit the 1200 words a day!

The trick is to set aside ten minutes at a time when you have a busy schedule. Take that ten minutes and write anything to just keep the creativity flowing. Now, some people do fine with writing whenever the mood strikes them. Some stories absolutely need that style, but when you build this habit you increase your chances of producing a finished product.

In the romance genre, but in any genre as well, you have to build a positive habit in creating content and pieces in a timely manner. Don’t stress about the quality of what you’re writing. Just have a good time, and do your best. Then at the end of this challenge you can edit and do whatever you like. The point is to get your butt in gear.
GOOD LUCK!

Also if you’re curious about works I’ve written check out my erotic novels:
Suffer too Good

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Dirty Honey

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Out of Control

Low bass rumbling through our chests
Threatening to make them burst as,
The sound vibrates through our systems,
Fills our veins until they ache driving us to,
Strange and beautiful desires,
Taking sense and turning to,
Compulsion,
Swaying hips entice you and you,
Grab me in the dark,
You press me so close I feel the beat of your heart,
My breath hitches in my throat,
My skin yearns for everything they wrote,
The adrenaline fed by blasting beauty,
Urging me into a lustful frenzy,
Pushing me further and further,
Into going from saint to sinner,
The words leave my lips as we,
Dance until all we want is to,
Find some dark corner and let lose,
But we settle for this,
Compulsion.

For W. on that night I’ll always remember and the first time we danced together.

“I watched her feet move
Her hips they sway
Does a hair flip
And starts to say
‘oh my god it’s my favorite song’
I pull her close and she sings along”

Normandy. for #PoetsforPeace and my grandfathers

A healthy shore.
A thousand feet.
An ocean wide and open,
With stones — who knows what they’ve seen?
And a universe of tokens.
Fear and fright before a tedious night.
Blood and Bomb and harsh cold memories,
That’ve been turned into “cowardice”,
A sad lonesome lie that turned some away from
Outwardness.
Broken glass from bottles, from glasses, from binoculars,
Forced apart and thrown into the deeps.
Now it comes ashore again,
Once jagged now?
Smooth.
Now precious and fragile thing.
A some quiet peace,
Created from tossed around dreams,
And memories,
Brushed and crashed against a thousand stones,
Bumped and bruised against a thousand odd things,
Tapping machines so fierce even their rust force,
Fright to explode from itself.
Now that precious thing is,
Smooth.
Is peace.
It is in our pockets.
We caress it every now and again.
We let it remind us of its uniqueness,
Of its calm.
And yet how quick we pull our hands away,
How quickly we fail that man made thing,
Is it that we mistake it for stone?
Is it that we forget it is glass?
How quickly we forget how it was made!
How precious that thing is.
How smooth.

*
The most painful and horrendous things can give away to softer things. But can we learn to listen, to help, to understand, and maybe round out those rough edges before they’re blown apart and we’re all thrown asunder into the depths of hatred? I hope so.
I know so

 

#poetsforpeace