I am the end to your words,
For I wasn’t there at the beginning.
The seasons change,
The butterfly dies,
The days move on,
Like babies, we cry.
We are the end to each other’s words,
It matters not that we looked away…
©Brindology 2014
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©Brindology 2015
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You know, I was born with all the female parts.
Does that make me a real woman?
I survived an abusive relationship.
Does that make me a courageous woman?
I survived cancer.
Does that make me courageous?
I don’t have my ovaries, Fallopian tubes, uterus and cervix anymore.
Does that make me less of a woman?
I lost my hair to chemo and now that I have hair again, I spend time styling my hair every day.
Does that make me less courageous?
I strive to be authentic daily, and in ways you might not understand.
Does that make my journey any less authentic?
©Brindology 2015
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I’m sorry,
I didn’t hear your heart make a sound
Just now.
I’m sorry,
But did your heart break into a million pieces
Just now?
I’m sorry,
Did someone dare to tear your soul apart
Just now?
I’m sorry,
Could I hold you close to me
Right now?
The night will stay as dark
As it has always been.
The darkness can linger on your breath
Even when you shut your eyes.
©Brindology 2015
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At the break of dawn,
your whispers drift toward me
like gentle waves lapping at my feet
as I look out into the horizon.
I sense the loneliness surrounding you.
Holding you too close in the darkest shadows of your existence,
you wonder if you are known —
whether your face is one of the nameless,
if your presence actually matters.
Turn your thoughts away from this misery.
Nobody truly lives only in one person’s mind.
You are the sky,
the ocean,
the air that draws itself around me.
You are long gone from this physical space,
but your name lingers on my lips.
©Brindology 2015
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If I look back
over my shoulder,
Will I see you standing there
watching me walk away from you
for the very last time?
If I look back
over my shoulder,
Will I see your teardrops
falling as though your world has come
to its very end?
If I look back
over my shoulder,
Will I be sure I’m doing
the right thing
for the very first time?
©Brindology 2016
©Original image by Brindology
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there’s an empty seat beside me on the bus
but you’re choosing to stand.
there’s a flower that’s standing alone in the garden
without any shade.
the more I think about it,
the more I don’t understand it.
it doesn’t feel like I’m yours.
it doesn’t feel like you’re mine.
is it the same for you?
©Brindology 2016
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