Tell me your name

If only you would say your name, we could settle this bet that I swear I never shook.

Demanding my time in clouds of gray and pointed white, you know we would both do better if you would tell me what you are up to.

I could give you the needed attention and time, we could plot and plan, we could play and dance, then I could use the rest of the time for myself. While I have promised you many times that I’d use it to check in on you, I can’t right now only because you are withholding your name.

You get me every time when you sit and yell, its gibberish I am told and now I have to tell. Words of disorder, nonscience, intrusive noise, and beeps.

Take my stance as you wish but I am the best to befriend, the best to call for help. Although that be the case, I am the worst partner in your crime, I won’t hitch you a ride. I want to live, I want to explore. I keep telling you that but you have taken those words initially and admittedly teased me with false exploration. Taking away any true value, I want to take it back from you, but I know what that’s like. So I beg you to tell me your name only because I’m scared of what I do not know, and let us lay this box of scenic puzzles on the table and work on it together.

Forever Grateful

These are the stars that I lay beneath in the cold for no other reason than I know that you are under them too.

During the day I choose as time to dream; where I see as I’ve tried to turn my back, your love is as the Sun, always there, everywhere, off a reflection to face me.

Thank you for your words that take my finished paintings to use at scratch paper in turn making it the start of something new. In it’s making, thank you for allowing  the silence, so comfortable.

Thank you for your touch, the brush of my cheek with your hand or the kiss to stop the blush. In its making, thank you for the space when thats what would make me blush.

Thank you, you showed me the finished drawing of all that you cared about… not knowing I was frightened to hand over a booklet of connect the dots, when it’s final line made it look the same.

Thank you for your patience, thank you for your strength and taking my shoes, showing you can still run with them, I’ve just been walking and thought they were wearing out.

Thank you for the smiles, whether they were put on by me to be who I wanted you to see. Thank you for the smiles, that couldn’t be held back and in joining in the joy they create!

Thank you for listening when I wouldn’t listen, turning a conversation south and emotional instead of meaningful for creation thats tangible.

Thank you for the breakdown as needed and thank you for the building up, where you helped me reach a buildings ceiling.

Thank you for letting me start – letting me be vulnerable and thanks for letting me grow – letting me be lovable.

Thank you for your time, thank you for your stories.

So when I get to say, there won’t be any void that needs to be filled, don’t mistake that with a worry I have no room in my heart. Thank you, for knowing it simply means I am whole with fields forever grateful


Dear Alabelle Grace,
I love you.
Sincerely, Severin Wescott

I’ve always found this note particularly enduring because thats my name, but thats not his name. In fact, I don’t know who Severin Wescott is, so, I know I won’t die today.

You’re quite

As your first words to me came out, I had discovered a thought in me that years later, wont go away. I spend time set aside just to dwell on thes words for I love what you saw, but the words she then would have to say made me think about the truth I’ve always wanted.

I was humored by the realization you had about my silence. All the while I thought you were the one to keep in silence. As I sit, admiring myself and welcoming you for you were doing the same, I realized while peaking over your sholder, that she was admiring you, the way you were I. I want you to turn and see, I want you to turn and break a pattern, I want you to turn and create a friction that changes all and lets us see what those truthful gazes do.

Again and again

-“I don’t know how it happened” 

I want to see the promise of yellow, but I’m sitting here with a vision of blue to make out of this heap of clay that is gray.

“Just make a city, make me feel good, give us something that will give us everything,” this is what they tell me.

I got to work, where there was created all that is imaginable, irresistible, irreplaceable. It was polished, but as they came back to see the dream, it was wrecked, and on the ground. Now back to how it started, just materials that need refining. I’d shake my head agin as it’s not fresh, not able to be used again for such a purpose, for it had already became.

-“I don’t know how it happened”

Despite the Mind. Despite the Body.

I have felt the pull taking you down a path heading south, I have also felt the hand that holds tight in enthusiastic love. In those moments with determined knees, you are able to run, not turning to blame, not turning to shame, but turning to hope and willingness to cope.

Those are the times that build us up, despite the minds desire to take over, to set fire. Tell me what it would feel like now, when it’s your body who deserts you, when your mind helps to blur your sight. When you are living the dream but you feel dazed as in the dream. Pain sits back and lets out in tears, a fear. You know how to help it, you tell it to open up, to connect. Now it’s your body you can’t get out of the way, it wants to sit. Collecting, admiring, humoring. Sitting. Sleeping. Drowning. It’s too busy in the wallowing, that you can’t even bring your finger to your forehead, or breath in the air that needs swallowing.


I love to walk the perimeters to all we have ever been. Some may tell you I’m now living on the edge creating the art of feeling for the thinkers. I bet you can tell where I am by the words I will now use, far from the madding crowd I sit in the corner where I see a fork in the road. Your answer begs Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, but my mind is so troubling, love. Look at me, the Lost Prince, just look at me and tell me we aren’t in the winter of the world. You tell me that everything is illuminated though there will be turbulence, try and think that this is just the beginning of spring. OK, I know we will get to love our old heart, but right now, Tender is the night, where I visit the city of lost dreams. I’ll just be the clever girl of now, sitting in Oblivion where I can feel the steady running of the hour, while I’ve asked you to draw a map of the world with certain circles and a fallen flower.