What I can’t tell you.

Here’s the thing. I want to be the one who takes the picture of you when you are looking off in to the distance. Unaware of my actions. Only for you to realize as the click goes off. Swiping at my arm, and we move on. I want to hear your breath be taken away by the site of a hotel room, and then I want to take your breath away in that hotel room. I want to slip into a large tub with you between my thighs and hear you sigh.I want to hear it all… See it all…. with you.

But, the more aware I become, I see this is all fantasy. So, I have to move on. Being in love with you is keeping me from happiness. Its keeping me from truly loving anyone else. The fact that I don’t affect you like you do me is reason enough to never look back. However, I can’t imagine my life without you. That is the true nature of it all. I can’t not love you. Need you. Crave you. As worthless as it is, my love is stuck to my ribs. Cemented in so deep, if I even attempt to chips some away, I feel as if my lungs are being ripped to shreds.

I had a friend ask why I do it. As if I had a choice, as if I chose to want you. She told me I needed to “friend zone” you. No more ‘I love you’s’. No more talking to you whenever I wanted. No more tagging you in things that remind me of  you. Impersonal. No feelings. My heart literally stopped. I can’t not tell you I love you. The thought of not saying it back to you, when you say it first, makes me want to scream.

So, I guess here’s to the love that is as useless a fish without water.

Seeing The Whole

I always look away when I say, I love you.    But then, I get a glimpse of you from the corner of my eye
And see yours closed, as well.
                                                        
I wonder, are we both worried over the same thing?        

Could we both be afraid that the other has no love for them?  

Maybe, we feel afraid the other would see too much?

Could we both think the other lies as some cruel joke?      

What if, its because we want to believe, in that moment we are commenting the other to memory?

I need to hear you say it all day. Every day, because…

You are my
Mother, my daughter
My father, my son
My moon, and stars
My rain, my shine

You are what makes me whole.

And I hope, one day, I will look into your eyes, and see that I do that for you.

The Detour

Somewhere in New Mexico.

Colorado Springs, Colorado.

My dearest Reader,

My greatest wish is I could tell you that I am doing well. Unfortunately, that is not a possible answer. I am in a tight spot you see. As I brought myself home form work several songs played on the radio and there all had the same theme. Be strong, be kind, and keep pushing for your dreams. But fear is standing in my way. Its really simple really. I could say there is two reasons. My mother being the aforementioned reason. You see, she is elderly, and has a bit of a problem. Its more than just a nip of sherry every now and again, if you know what I mean. Well of course you don’t. How silly of me. I am truly sorry for this. I am not sure why I have told you any of this really. Its of no bother to you I suppose.

Well, until next time, my dearest friend.

The Writer,

To The Reader,

My desire to travel has taken on a life of its own. I want to ride horse back across Wyoming and Scotland (and many others). I want to take pictures underwater! I have all these wants and should I’s that its almost painful.

I sit in Panera Bread listening to all the constant chatter a place like this is. A prayer is said at the table across from me. Beyond that is a business meeting that is full of the men with the three piece suits. Or I assume its a business meeting. It is Sunday afternoon, after all. So, they very well could be church folks as well. Its kind of here nor there I feel. We are all people who have decided to be at this establishment. I wonder if they thought about the consequences of this day would be? Because they staid, an extra five minutes here with their friends or loved ones, that the traffic would get the best of them as soon as they ventured passed PaneraLand?

I wonder about the new one. She seems a mystery. I can not asses if she is playing with me as much as I am playing with her. It is a very confusing and fantastic sport! I flirt shamelessly. I probably shouldn’t but I do anyway. For the very fact that I can. It means nothing. I am certain she knows this. So long as we understand each other all is well. I just wished I knew if she was even interested in women.

There is a get together tonight at IHOP. Its for one of my coworkers. Apparently, she has been having a hard time. Its not my story. I am happy for this meeting. I have been thinking about when I leave a lot. Will any of them be up for a going away party? Will any of them even talk to me any more? I will miss these people… They have become almost like family.

The lady behind me left half a sandwich. And the Sunday school ladies are wondering where two of their flock was today.

Love always,

L

When We Aren’t looking

I see you looking

when you think I’m not looking…

It is both infuriating and,

endearing.

I want to scream at you to look at me!

and then I want to whimper and beg you…

To plead with you.

 but we sit in silence instead.

both stealing looks

when the other thinks they aren’t looking…

Personal

I struggle…

I struggle to be a poet/writer, I struggle to be human, I struggle with anger, and I struggle with love.

I was contemplating how hard it is to write something without it being saturated in you. I am struggling with this as well. I was thinking of the subject of “Story”. I am reading “A Million Miles In A Thousand Years” by Donald Miller. Story, I am just loosely paraphrasing, Is not dissimulator form real life. So the author says. I must say, I agree with him. We are all characters that change and grow and move through out life with fluidity. We as human beings have the right to change. From the style of clothes we wear to how we believe in God.

But I realized with reading this book, that I am a character in my own story that needs to find her right foundation. The right start to the rest of her perfect story. And just like a book or a movie there will have to be things I over come, but these things will make me stronger than before. They will have let me change and grow. I will have become a new person through every situation. Yet another thing I took from the very little I have read. The body renews itself ever six months or so. Maybe I should take my body’s advice and every six months or so, take time to reevaluate who I am as a “Character”. Then plan accordingly to make my story better still.

Slang 9/25/14

I’ve been doin’ a lot of thinkin’

and a lot of breathin’

I’ve been seein’ you through different eyes

I’m not leavin’ you

but I am afraid you are leavin’ me

All I am sayin’ is that I love you

but you are turnin’ away

so I’ll just be sittin’ here a waitin’ for you.

Poem by: Lanna Oliver

“Beautiful Woman” 9/17/14

I can see her sitting there

alone on her stoop

wires leading to her ears

attached to an invisible device

I watch as amber strikes across her face

hard night

If the sickly pale that flows from her lips is any indication

she only smokes when its been a terrible day

Her hair falls down along her waist

I can only imagine that the men and women fawn over her

“What a beautiful woman”

What they don’t see is,

these moments

these moments when her weakness is visible

sadness,

such pure sadness.

and yet she is still here

breathing in poison that will surely kill her

Maybe that’s why she lights two on night like this

hoping it will take her closer to the end?

I glance up as I hear her glass door slide open

I linger over the last glimpse of her naked legs

as they disappear back into her sanctuary

“What a beautiful woman”

I think to myself

but not for her looks…

its the smell that her perfume and the pungent smoke

that sticks to my nose,

its the crease of her brow as she contemplates

what ever it is that she thinks about

Its the slight shake of her hand as she places the stick in her mouth

its everything and nothing.

Its because of what I see is what I feel inside,

“What a beautiful woman”

the smoke escapes my mouth with the words to the night

as I too disappear back in to my own sanctuary.