Skip to main content

My Love (Madison Elizabeth Holland - Lafayette, LA)

 

You stand firmly
arms open wide
to catch and hold me
in any shape or form I choose today
if I am a dark rushing river you embrace me
if I am a beam of light I become the twinkle in your eye
if I am a bouncing ball I am caught by your hand and held close to your heart

No one has ever looked so deeply into me
I can feel you just soaking me in, slowly, calmly,
Your face in my hands, your breath hitching momentarily as my heart stumbles towards you

I see it in your eyes, is this your way of trying to tell me?
A new kind of sign language, a love language,
No hands no words just your gaze - it swallows me whole, devours me
I know there are varying degrees of love - I have loved and been loved by others before -
But this, You, YOU -
You spoke those words like a promise, a vow
An intimacy that asked for no response and probably needed none

Coming close to someone new is challenging, scary
Becoming vulnerable again can seem impossible
But you are a safe space, a peaceful garden grotto tucked away
With a kiss on my lips you let me know its okay to let go and learn to play
Once more

I think (for the first time really)
I found someone who I want to grow old with
Become better with
Love always with
Unselfishly,
Sweet girl, let me cherish you

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ash Wednesday (Brian Falcon - New Orleans, LA)

  It’s forgettable- the number of times I was called a “fucking faggot” as a kid. As a former child of god, I wasn’t expected to know what those words meant. I was taught that repentance was vital to achieving everlasting life. My momma made me go to church every Sunday. I said my prayers as I was told. But I eventually learned that Catholicism was never my sanctuary. Christianity was never my safe-haven. God never stopped the cheap shots. He never once prevented the harassment or pure embarrassment that I felt from the words of my “kin in Christ.” Now, picture me- a helpless faggot, blinded by the incandescent lights of an old catholic church. I was home from college spending Spring Break in my former hellscape. So, naturally, my momma yet again made me go to church. This time, on a Wednesday. It was Ash Wednesday. When I was among the folks from home, I felt out of place. So much that I’d imagine camouflaging myself. Like saber-tooth in hiding. But the difference? I had a far more i

Louisiana Words Remembers Jorge Arturo

There’s nothing that hurts more than when we lose someone from our Louisiana Words family. But, the beauty of our writing movement is that the words of our loved ones live on with us.   On June 20th, 2023, Louisiana Words Allstar, Jorge Arturo, moved on from this world leaving our hearts broken. He was a charismatic and talented human being. Jorge resided in New Orleans, LA and had been active on Louisiana Words for over a year. To honor Jorge’s life and work, we will be sharing his writing and live performances all Summer 2023. Please help keep his spirit alive by sharing his work. We know that Jorge’s words will connect with our readers and we hope to keep his spirit alive.  Jorge’s first submission: “The Dog Show” debuted on February 6th, 2022 and is his most successful piece to date. In 2022, Jorge spent 10 weeks in the top with “The Dog Show,” “Weavers,”  “They Say Love Kills, This Time It Really Did,” and “If Hell is Real, It Looks Like an Airport.” His last piece was “Fairy Tale

Nobody Said There'd Be a Day Like This (Sam Ray - New Orleans, LA)

  I know how this should be:  I've seen it, you see, In soap operas, Movies. Your eyes are closed, As if in sleep. Perfect peachy skin Atop a snow white pillow  Under flawlessly matched sheets. The heart monitor, Quiet bleeps. The ventilator, A steady hiss. None of that is this. Your eyes Stuck open  Seeing without sight Yellow sclera Dumb tears streaming. Tubes, taped to your face  Delicate skin torn Where nurses Repositioned them  To feed you To heal you You never liked being told What to do. Your whole torso spasms Spastic, Every 40 seconds. A machine  Forces your lungs to act. Your hands are warm From hemodialysis  But don't respond  When we each grab one Give it a kiss. We spend the day  Brushing your hair  Telling stories  Singing  songs. Praying prayers. You're not there. Hospital staff Are more lovely  If less pretty  Than on TV. When the time comes  They gently walk us From the room Close the curtain  Remove the tubes Close the eyes. We resume our positions Your bo