Dry.

Sometimes...
We have wonderful dreams.
Sometimes...
We don't.
Sometimes...
We dream of a little, sad, dry space for our own.
Sometimes...
Of big, gorgeous, lovely, cozy cabins lost in the mountains.

Sometimes...
Yellow, red, green, pink, magenta, indigo blue, purple...
Sometimes...
Hugs, love, caresses, fish, dogs, kitchen, cozy, smiles, belonging & tenderness.

It's so hard to explain...
How colors fill me up.
It's so hard to explain...
I don't want anyone intruding in that space...
Where I can be me,
Where I can prepare colorful surprises for you,
Where I can hide when I feel pain.
Where I can hide when I feel sadness inside.
Where I can hide that child that should have been mine.
Where my womb can bear your seeds...
Where I can feel no shame for being myself.
Where I can stand up & scream when I feel like it all is tumbling down.
Where I don't have to let down anyone with my stupid actions.
Where I can repair what I've done wrong.
Where I can hide everything that's broken inside the walls.
Where I can hide my scars deep down in the floor.

I'm longing to begin somewhere...
Where no one knows me at all.

But I'm also longing to look at the mountains,
To play in our beautiful black piano,
I'm longing to have long counters in our kitchen.
I'm also longing to see your smile...
I'm longing for all the photographs we'll take.
I'm longing for the dreams left in our pillows on rainy days.
I'm longing to walk all along the cabin with my pj's on.
I'm longing for long mornings at the lake...
& How funny I'll look trying to catch some fish.
How cozy it will feel after a long day at hospitals,
Somewhere cozy to feel safe...
Somewhere that brings me peace...
Somewhere I'd spend my whole days with you,
Inside our warm bed.
Somewhere I'd stay with you, watching the rain.
Somewhere your hands wrote stories in my skin.
Somewhere I know that storms come...
But they come with the most beautiful cozy umbrella.
Somewhere I can plant seeds that will grow,
Somewhere where I can dance & laugh every night at a fire camp
A fire camp with just two people dancing & playing.
Somewhere I can write my own stories
Stories that may be in my days.
Somewhere I can talk alone,
But you'd be listening to me.
I'm longing for long walks along the forest.
I'm longing for the days that we may find squirrels & have one for our own.
I'm longing for the nights that I'd play violin & you'd play our piano.
I'm longing for the hanging swing...
I'm longing for our lovely dogs...
Our lovely, funny dogs that we can't have in the city...
'cause the city is as dry as me.

& now all I long for is for something to kill me.