I have started this blog to share some of my poetry and art that I have created about the world around me. I have always wanted to bare my soul to a complete stranger and let the words come pouring out. So I wanted to create a safe space for one stranger to view another strangers soul, and thus The Stranger Soul was born.
What to do, when it was always you
“God, you bruise so easily” you say as you look down at my legs resting on your lap.
I lay back on the bench and shield my eyes from the sun dancing through the leaves of the maple tree. The park is quiet, mid afternoon the children still in school. The only other people are on the far side of the park where an elderly woman is being pushed in a wheelchair by what appears to be a caretaker. I sigh and bring my hand to my heart to remind myself of its comforting beat. I do bruise easily but I think my heart takes a majority of the bruising. You grab my hand and play with my fingers.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” you say as you pull me up so I am now sitting next to you. I cross my legs and mindlessly twist my rings on my fingers.
“You know, I think it was always you. Each step I made with him, each mistake, brought me closer to you. And I think being away from it all and sitting alone with my thoughts buried 10 feet deep in snow made me realize how much I wasn’t being fair. It was always you. Not wanting to tell you about him should have been my first sign but I..” I look up finally to see your deep brown eyes. You pull me in for a hug and kiss my forehead.
“I just wanted you to choose me and when you did, I became the luckiest guy alive”
My Origami Heart
I gave you a paper crane to see if you would open it.
Would you carefully undo each fold to see what may lay hidden inside? Or would you leave it be, knowing that if you opened it you would never be able to recreate its intricate shape.
It was not until I gave you my origami heart that I knew how you would treat me. You carefully undid a fold and admired the crease. You had an appreciation for why I guarded myself with this multitude of folds.
Your hands were soft, and like how I could feel your gentle warm fingertips on my spine, I remember how gentle they felt cradling my heart. You caressed my origami heart until it unfolded. You took your time and never rushed me to open up and reveal more than what I was willing to expose.
Falling Half in Love with Strangers
We here at The Stranger Soul like the mystery behind a good ole stranger love. So friends..what’s the word?
I love being able to express myself in writing.
It feels more accurate somehow than speaking words. Talking for me can sometimes feel like playing tennis with a colander; I mean, it’s possible, I can do it, but it’s not ideal. The ball goes over the net, but just about. It goes where I want it to go… more or less. I can’t be sure it’ll hit it’s mark, but I can hope. Later, I’ll go home and think about how I could have done it some other, better way.
Writing is different.
Writing is a tennis racket. When I’m writing, I have the time to think about what I’m trying to say, and then mentally flip through millions of words looking for the one that slots into my sentence like that Tetris block you’ve been waiting five minutes for; the one that gives you a combo and wipes the…
View original post 2,391 more words
RJE
I didn't know that you would be the sun. I didn't know that I would crave your touch, Like frost covered grass longs for the sun's rays. I didn't know that with each kiss my heart would pound, Cracking the ice. You made me feel in ways I never knew I could. Your love like sunlight, Grew wildflowers in the coldest depths of my heart.
Melt me
I drink scalding coffee
To try and melt the ice I have built up in my heart.
Layer upon layer of black ice that freezes out trust and love.
I am constantly cold.
Craving summer,
When I am stuck in an eternal winter.
Loving Someone At The Wrong Time
She seemed to be on a swing Caught in the upward momentum And she knew his love was going to be the gravity Pulling her back down She knew how it was going to end With the inevitable fall The rush back into reality
Giving In
He was like an insidious cancer.
Every axon and synapse,
Nerve and nerve ending,
Whispered his name.
And her mind, powerless,
Gave in.
“You are stronger than you think you are”
To the person who thinks they know you
No, you do not get to say that to me. You do not know me. You do not know how many scars I have on my ankles from my boots digging into my flesh. You do not know about my scar I bear on my thigh that was ripped so deep the doctor could fit his hand inside my leg. You do not know of the burn scar where I dropped a curling iron on my arm. You do not know of the birthmark right above my right breast that I share with my childhood best friend. You do not know that the bruises that cover my legs are usually associated with a night full of syrupy, burning your throat drinks to escape the pain in my own mind. You have no idea about the scars buried in my brain. The mental scar and forever painful memory of when my own father punched me in the face for the first and final time. You do not know how I was in a depression so deep that the though of ‘going to sleep forever’ gave me relief. You do not understand that I can have a panic attack so debilitating that I will not eat and all I can do is lay in bed and cry. These are my battle wounds. These are my scars. You do not get to tell me “you are stronger than you think you are” because you do not know me. I do not need you to tell me what I already know. I am strong.
The Stranger Soul 