“I wished for nothing more than the warm crushing of your hold. It would be strong enough to shield me from the world as I grew old.”

Call me reckless, call me hopeless, say it to me, implore. Call me feckless, call me helpless, call me all those things and more. All I ask if that you heed the one good reason you’re ignored. Judge me all you like, its not you I do this for.

I strip. In low light. In the silence of my room. I strip like an act of confession. Unclothing my meticulous mind and teasing language from the vestry of my soul.

Experience has taught me to tell the difference between a man that wants to tame me, mute my voice and claim me, and a man that is bold enough to let me be free.

To all those I have loved and left, please know, it wasn’t you. For though I’d not wish you bereft, this heart seeks pastures new.

I can fade to darkness too. Through fear or want or need, its true. If only to escape the truth; that loneliness abides with you.

Deep within, I still exist; a brighter, happy me. Just look beyond my outer casing.

Do I need you? No. But I want you. Like the fish seek warmer waters and the birds the brighter skies.

Stay with me on this long night, til the dawn turns crow skies bright. Bring your skin to join with mine, and make in me a transient shine.

Welcome to the heart of me, the purest, uncut parts of me. These inmost fragments that you see, from pain and passion came to be, in blemished, unclothed intimacy, existing here as poetry.

And again I’m in your arms. Searching your skin for some small comfort. Your touch, this time, is love’s purest tender. Your hold, for now, is a fortress I feel safe in. Maybe, once more, I can call your body home.

She can shake away the recent frost of misery and pain. As life takes in a vivid sense of meaning once again.

And just like that, fostered beneath the stars. curated by moonlight, our love became incarnate.

I am so sorry that my feelings have the audacity to not be contained within one short sentence.

You’re a beautiful enigma and warmed in charming wit.

Rise and shine, rise and shine. Fractious hope in life divine. Rise and flicker, rise and fade. Til’ death’s clasp I can’t evade.

You demanded silence and I became sonorous.

My today’s self perpetually slips out of any hold of it that I may try to take.

President Joe Biden is unfit to hold the office of the Presidency. His pattern of abuse of power as President Obama’s Vice President is lengthy and disturbing.

One of the great cosmic laws, I think, is that whatever we hold in our thought will come true in our experience.

In this state of absorbed contemplation, there is no longer any question of holding an object in view.

People who have no hold over their process of thinking are likely to be ruined by liberty of thought. If thought is immature, liberty of thought becomes a method of converting men into animals.

This is not just a stock of affects or pleasure, but also the possibility of playing double or quits with the share you hold in the other’s heart.

Everybody knows there is no fineness or accuracy of suppression; if you hold down one thing, you hold down the adjoining.

Hold up a mirror and ask yourself what you are capable of doing, and what you really care about. Then take the initiative – don’t wait for someone else to ask you to act.