Author: meredithlmm

Entrepreneur • Writer • Poet • Lover of Great Wine, Food, Cocktails, & Brewed Beverages • My best friends are feline 🐈🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛

May I ask who your star-crossed lover is? Can you describe him?

You may ask, and I will describe him, generally… But I have promised never to use his name.

He is the most phenomenonally-beautiful man I’ve ever met; the most sensually-aware creature I’ve ever known outside of myself. His gaze is soul-captivating; his skin is like silk; his hair is as soft as mink’s fur. His eyes are small yet penetrating; his voice is disarmingly lilting; his way is that of a god who knows his power, yet charmingly attempts to be humble and “normal.” His fury destroys himself as much as it destroys others; his sweetness is intoxicating; and when he lets his guard down and bears his vulnerable soul, he steals my heart from the entire world, and I would do anything for him, forever until forever never exists. To be with him is pure silence, outside of his plays, his sensual movements, his lithe body, his full lips. And he is demanding, commanding with nothing but his truth…. He creates beauty without a thought, so strongly real that walking away, wishing it away, demanding it null has no effect but to make one feel they are cutting off a limb, or more… It is the worst torture in the world; and his love is enough to stop the heart of every girl he loves, to bind her to him as a permanent part of his harem… to be tortured forever until she has him again.

And I will find a way to both love him and be free.

I’ve found that growing up means being honest. About what I want. What I need. What I feel. Who I am.

Unknown (via wordsnquotes)

Be like the earth. When the rain comes, the earth simply opens up to the rain and soaks it all in.

Thich Nhat Hanh

(via wordsnquotes)

Everlastingly Broken Free

You can put me on your list
Of women who still want you;

You can put me on your list
Of women you have broken;

You can put me on your list
Of those whose hearts you rule;

But I am still smiling
And I am still me
And I am still loving,
And I still love you
And I still break all the rules
And I walk into the night
With my self-made standards,
Still bright
Still brave
Still free

Still Unstill

I still need to see you.

I still need to breathe the same air as you
In the same spaces as you
In the same moments as you.

Perhaps there are greater things in life
Than love,
Or perhaps it is the greatest thing of all;
I do not know.

I only know you
In this moment,
And you,
For all you are,
For all you are not,
In good and bad, in bitterness and joy,
You are my love,
My joy,
My happiness;
You are the coveted one
The misunderstood one
The only one.

Don’t tell me I should go elsewhere
When I only want you.
Don’t tell me I must stop wanting
When all there is, is you.
Don’t tell me I must display what I value
When what I value is you.

Don’t tell me who I am
When who I am is yours,
When who I am is me,
When who I desire is you.

If I am left alone,
I am still yours.
If I am pursued by a hundred men,
Loved by a million more,
I will appreciate all the love,
And be forever for you.

The Awakening Foretold

One day, my dear, we will see each other again

And our eyes will lock again

And we will see each other again

And I wonder if I’ll cry

Or if my eyes will well with uncried tears

If I’ll ask you with words

If I’ll ask with my heart

As I see your soul’s suffering mirroring mine:

“May I cry now?

Have I permission yet?”

I wonder if we’ll cry together,

If we’ll speak no words

If your heart and lonely pain

Will allow you to cross the room

To ignore the world’s wondering

To lose yourself in my embrace.

A gem…

My dear…

Your gem…

Is buried sometimes,

Is revealed sometimes,

Is no less valuable when you find it easily,

Is sometimes more valuable and rare when plucked with no effort

Thor’s hammer held by one with just heart,

Arthur’s sword unsheathed by a just hand,

Makes no less honorable the man who can hold so easily.

That I give myself to you, my dear,

Does neither devalue you, nor me.

One day, you will wake up, my dear.

One day, you will know how much I care.

One day, you will wake from your dreaming alone;

One day, you will find yourself without me.

I wonder:

Will it come as a shock?

Will you gasp and start,

The weight of years gone by hitting you

As that rod jammed into me?

Will you feel the pain as I did,

Will you waver breathlessly just the same,

Knowing suddenly what you did to me, to us,

What time lost in years between?

And when you wake…

Let it be with me.

Let me take your hand and release, rebuild with me…

I will be your mistress

Your wife

Your everything…

My love

My darling

My soul mate

My divine torturer

My sacred lover

My life

My everything.

If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine. It is lethal.

Paulo Coelho 
(via wnq-anonymous)

Did you ever know, dear, how much you took away with you when you left?

C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
(via wordsnquotes)

Misty Morns of Autumn

I woke to the fog that lingers still
hanging breathlessly ‘tween earth and sky
a blanket ‘round every leaf and twig
nestling in white-grey as I wish I could into you.

I remember those days and nights.
They haunt me, seep into my skin like this cool, damp air,
clouding my thoughts, moistening my eyes
and I beg for some kind, warm embrace.

“Look nowhere else, but inside of you
for all your heart’s desire”?
I find a flame growing, a raging heat
still and silent as the tangerine leaves.

I remember you; I remember us.
I can feel you still, embracing me
I can feel your blue-white flickering flame
Aching to burn hotter with me.

And still the coolness of now slips round my calves;
still the chilled reality of now sings its resonance.
There is no you in this mulled existence;
there is only this languid persistence.

When, in the night or day, I slip into your mind
Do you yearn, or turn away?
Do you yet slip silently into desire, coach its movements
into regretful, agonized explicatives?

Are we tied, now, by nothing but this creative imagining?
Are we yet tied by nothing but this type of love?
I miss the ripples of your tender skin,
the agonized sensitivity to my energies.

Lift this cloud; help me blow it away
with heat or rain, with tears or love;
or, mind, let me accept this uncomfortable space,
sip it like chilled water on a winter’s day.

-Prologue-

…And then the sun shines through the mist
alighting mist and leaves, alike;
and then, the world is a mystery;
our fantasy begins again.

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #1293 by Tyler Knott Gregson

*Book Two Is Almost Here!! Pre-Order All The Words Are Yours, through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, IndieBound , Books-A-Million , or iBookstore! *

This is exactly how I feel, almost all the time.

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are

E.E. Cummings (via watehva)

Dreams of the Mad and Broken-Hearted

…And I can do it, too.

Maybe it is the forte of the dreamers,
Like me, who have lived on the edges of reality since childhood,
Who have lived on the fringes of friendship,
Who have loved deeply and passionately
Without obvious requite,
To find the good in everything
To forget the past that we do not enjoy
To spin the darkness into light
To live quite presently.

Perhaps it is the gift of the broken-hearted
To love and love again,
To find peace after a storm of tears,
To give love throughout so many years.

And maybe it is the virtue of the mad
To find freedom in everything
We have the keys to unlock the doors
That others see as nothing.

Yes, I am a dreamer
And a lover, too;
And I am broken,
And I am mad
And I am ever fond of you.

I bent my head in prayer only to ask for a God I could relate to.

I still have never heard Their voice
but I’ve heard your unsteady breath 
on days when I prayed to disappear into eternity.

I haven’t prayed to God in years, but there were nights I prayed to you.

church in midnight tones (via alannadp)

I dreamt of disintegration. I dreamt of a body dissolved into salt water. I dreamt of becoming the sea. You say I have such an expressive face and I wonder if you could see the ocean when I pulled away from you.

(via alannadp)

So beautiful.

When Angels Love Devils

Somewhere in me, I’m crying over you.

Your hardened heart and devilish mind say I am not supposed to,

And still, the tears well in my eyes
Because I love you
Because I know you do
Because you do not want to.

Don’t wait for it…Create a world, your world. Alone. Stand alone. Create. And then the love will come to you, then it comes to you.

Anaïs Nin  (via wordsnquotes)

 

if we loved people as we should

we wouldn’t have poetry.

 

words aren’t hollow.

K. Kazik. (via these-chains-are-daisies)

 

Perhaps this is true.

Transitions

So,

I am alone.

So,

I choose to be.

So,

My heart aches for you.

So,

I would rather this than confusing pain.

So,

I am alone.

So,

The leaves still tremble on their trees;

And they are not enough for me

‘Til they transform to a pair of butterflies

And one chases the other on an Indian Summer afternoon.

Then,

You are enough for me

And my love is enough for me

And my poetry is enough for me

And the trees are enough for me

Because we are still connected

Like the wasps around the trees

Like the sun and the leaves

And maybe

We are but changing like deciduous leaves:

Dying,

Falling from our native home,

Becoming part of something new…

So,

We are still connected

Though

It may not seem to be

And

We may never speak again

But

Perhaps we will.

It seems to me that the less I fight my fear, the less it fights back. If I can relax, fear relaxes, too.

Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear (via wnq-anonymous)