I can feel the fading as color washes out of me I grow transparent insubstantial my feet no longer make contact with the ground I

Reclaiming my inner badass at 50
I can feel the fading as color washes out of me I grow transparent insubstantial my feet no longer make contact with the ground I
the ice jam of words long lodged at the back of my throat has begun to melt syllable by delicious syllable that tickle going down
Morning coffee Courses through my veins Like rich red blood Washes away the cobwebs That gathered in the night Becomes the hum That at least
Originally Published on Blood Into Ink I edge further and further from the known the familiar shutting some doors firmly behind me with a sigh
in my deep hidden places worry sprouts and grows that I have already given in to complacency unconsciously surrendered to ordinary stopped tending my fire dimmed my
Christine Ray In a room so still and silent That it hurts Stark white walls Razor sharp edges Etch my soul Draw blood That drips
can you run your hands over my bare back? tangle your fingers in my hair? draw me into your arms make me liquid help me
could not walk toe to heel balance tipped lost my footing and a little of my nerve read the messages in the blood magnetic personalities
I can feel the fading as color washes out of me I grow transparent insubstantial my feet no longer make contact with the ground I