The ocean
In your eyes
Dark, depths
Of known spaces,
Shared, earned, owned.
The earthquake
In your touch
Moving, shaking
My very core,
Breathless, molten, found.
The mountains
In your words
Strong, lasting
Every thought,
Lifting, filling, completing.
The ocean
In your eyes
Dark, depths
Of known spaces,
Shared, earned, owned.
The earthquake
In your touch
Moving, shaking
My very core,
Breathless, molten, found.
The mountains
In your words
Strong, lasting
Every thought,
Lifting, filling, completing.
I’m a little whiskey girl.
Sweet like brown sugar in a blonde brownie: made to be melting on the tongue.
Smoky like a 1950s pool hall: making a rack look better than Minnesota Fats.
Dignified like an elegant mistress: distinguished in manners and etiquette in the presence of others, while an irresistibly smooth tease when alone.
Dark like the night I live in: full of shadows and depth some only dream of.
Warm like a favorite flannel: comfortable, relaxing and perfect to curl up with.
Intoxicating.
Some people can’t get enough,
While others can’t stand the sight.
I can leave others feeling a burn, but usually, I end up searing myself: scorching away the pain like a hot poker in the side, taking my mind off of my other, minor injuries.
I’m a little whiskey girl.
Sweet like brown sugar in a blonde brownie: made to be melting on the tongue.
Smoky like a 1950s pool hall: making a rack look better than Minnesota Fats.
Dignified like an elegant mistress: distinguished in manners and etiquette in the presence of others, while an irresistibly smooth tease when alone.
Dark like the night I live in: full of shadows and depth some only dream of.
Warm like a favorite flannel: comfortable, relaxing and perfect to curl up with.
Intoxicating.
Some people can’t get enough,
While others can’t stand the sight.
I can leave others feeling a burn, but usually, I end up searing myself: scorching away the pain like a hot poker in the side, taking my mind off of my other, minor injuries.
I’m a little whiskey girl.
Sweet like brown sugar in a blonde brownie: made to be melting on the tongue.
Smoky like a 1950s pool hall: making a rack look better than Minnesota Fats.
Dignified like an elegant mistress: distinguished in manners and etiquette in the presence of others, while an irresistibly smooth tease when alone.
Dark like the night I live in: full of shadows and depth some only dream of.
Warm like a favorite flannel: comfortable, relaxing and perfect to curl up with.
Intoxicating.
Some people can’t get enough,
While others can’t stand the sight.
I can leave others feeling a burn, but usually, I end up searing myself: scorching away the pain like a hot poker in the side, taking my mind off of my other, minor injuries.
I’m a little whiskey girl.
Sweet like brown sugar in a blonde brownie: made to be melting on the tongue.
Smoky like a 1950s pool hall: making a rack look better than Minnesota Fats.
Dignified like an elegant mistress: distinguished in manners and etiquette in the presence of others, while an irresistibly smooth tease when alone.
Dark like the night I live in: full of shadows and depth some only dream of.
Warm like a favorite flannel: comfortable, relaxing and perfect to curl up with.
Intoxicating.
Some people can’t get enough,
While others can’t stand the sight.
I can leave others feeling a burn, but usually, I end up searing myself: scorching away the pain like a hot poker in the side, taking my mind off of my other, minor injuries.
I’m a little whiskey girl.
Sweet like brown sugar in a blonde brownie: made to be melting on the tongue.
Smoky like a 1950s pool hall: making a rack look better than Minnesota Fats.
Dignified like an elegant mistress: distinguished in manners and etiquette in the presence of others, while an irresistibly smooth tease when alone.
Dark like the night I live in: full of shadows and depth some only dream of.
Warm like a favorite flannel: comfortable, relaxing and perfect to curl up with.
Intoxicating.
Some people can’t get enough,
While others can’t stand the sight.
I can leave others feeling a burn, but usually, I end up searing myself: scorching away the pain like a hot poker in the side, taking my mind off of my other, minor injuries.
I was in high school.
Freshman year.
My boyfriend and older sister were both part of our school’s Naval Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps.
They needed help putting together a gala for their “Officer” awards banquet, and I have a panchant for being able to hang streamers decently.
We were on the local base at the officer’s club for the big day.
I remember a wall of windows from floor to ceiling.
I was standing on the dance floor facing it,
Thinking to myself how to best use this feature to decorative advantage.
And that’s when I heard it.
The fluttering of small wings.
The twittering of confusion.
I looked around the large, mostly empty space but for a few tables and chairs that were still being brought in,
And I spotted the small, brown frenzy.
I walked over slowly and started to speak to it.
Calm.
Centered.
Collected it in my hands.
I could feel it’s heart beating like it would erupt out of its chest.
And I continued to whisper softly to it.
Reassuring.
I walked to the wall of windows
Found a partially opened one,
And opened my hands for it
Closing my eyes in fear of its wings catching them as it flirted away...
... but the thing is,
It didn’t go anywhere.
It sat there
In my hands.
I cracked my eyes open and shared a moment with this
Tiny,
Fragile,
Sweet
Creature
That I could never truly explain
Before it turned and flew away from me.
This is how I imagine it is to hold me sometimes.
Am I close?
I was in high school.
Freshman year.
My boyfriend and older sister were both part of our school’s Naval Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps.
They needed help putting together a gala for their “Officer” awards banquet, and I have a panchant for being able to hang streamers decently.
We were on the local base at the officer’s club for the big day.
I remember a wall of windows from floor to ceiling.
I was standing on the dance floor facing it,
Thinking to myself how to best use this feature to decorative advantage.
And that’s when I heard it.
The fluttering of small wings.
The twittering of confusion.
I looked around the large, mostly empty space but for a few tables and chairs that were still being brought in,
And I spotted the small, brown frenzy.
I walked over slowly and started to speak to it.
Calm.
Centered.
Collected it in my hands.
I could feel it’s heart beating like it would erupt out of its chest.
And I continued to whisper softly to it.
Reassuring.
I walked to the wall of windows
Found a partially opened one,
And opened my hands for it
Closing my eyes in fear of its wings catching them as it flirted away...
... but the thing is,
It didn’t go anywhere.
It sat there
In my hands.
I cracked my eyes open and shared a moment with this
Tiny,
Fragile,
Sweet
Creature
That I could never truly explain
Before it turned and flew away from me.
This is how I imagine it is to hold me sometimes.
Am I close?
I was in high school.
Freshman year.
My boyfriend and older sister were both part of our school’s Naval Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps.
They needed help putting together a gala for their “Officer” awards banquet, and I have a panchant for being able to hang streamers decently.
We were on the local base at the officer’s club for the big day.
I remember a wall of windows from floor to ceiling.
I was standing on the dance floor facing it,
Thinking to myself how to best use this feature to decorative advantage.
And that’s when I heard it.
The fluttering of small wings.
The twittering of confusion.
I looked around the large, mostly empty space but for a few tables and chairs that were still being brought in,
And I spotted the small, brown frenzy.
I walked over slowly and started to speak to it.
Calm.
Centered.
Collected it in my hands.
I could feel it’s heart beating like it would erupt out of its chest.
And I continued to whisper softly to it.
Reassuring.
I walked to the wall of windows
Found a partially opened one,
And opened my hands for it
Closing my eyes in fear of its wings catching them as it flirted away...
... but the thing is,
It didn’t go anywhere.
It sat there
In my hands.
I cracked my eyes open and shared a moment with this
Tiny,
Fragile,
Sweet
Creature
That I could never truly explain
Before it turned and flew away from me.
This is how I imagine it is to hold me sometimes.
Am I close?
I’m a little whiskey girl.
