Uncategorized – Page 4 – Elisabeth Writing

Dear ______,

Dear _______, I can’t believe it’s been a year or so since I’ve seen you. It feels like I can bring you to my mind as if I just saw you yesterday, but it also feels like I haven’t been near you in years. I thought I should leave you alone unless you came to…
Read more: Dear ______,
Don’t tangle with friends and exes…

I think the title sums it up nicely. – “Don’t tangle with friends and exes” especially when they’re both. Dark hair, quiet lilac eyes behind glasses. Bare skin, starlight freckles, a spill of lamplight on golden hair. I seduced, black lace in my teeth, ink into the emptiness of want and desire, of freedom and…
Read more: Don’t tangle with friends and exes…
An empath, or just broken?

I wrote this in a mood of deep exhaustion, sorrow and burnout. People do tend to unload on me as a massage therapist and an “empath” – but I fucking hate that word so I don’t use it. And perhaps I’m not that, but just traumatized and shattered. Maybe we’ll never know. So this is…
Read more: An empath, or just broken?
What would have happened if…?

This is a piece I thought up when I was remembering one particular event that shaped my life, and then I thought of a few other times that changed the path I was on – for the good and for the bad. But in the end I’m proud of the woman I’ve become and the…
Read more: What would have happened if…?
To The Men Who Couldn’t Love Me –

To The Men Who Couldn’t Love Me, I remember driving in hail and rain, waiting for the storm to break, a letter in my hand that asked only this: why? I wept over dried roses in wine bottles, my tears like dew, and I wondered if I could bring them back to life. I waited…
Read more: To The Men Who Couldn’t Love Me –
Letters in 60 years… will you keep them?

Would you keep the letters, and memories? Amaranthus flowers drooping over a crystal vase, fingers shaking, because love lies bleeding and I have it in a glass. Young raven wings tremble. One ebony feather drifting down to rest, I wonder if these wings will still fly, if I try. Is it will I try, or…
Read more: Letters in 60 years… will you keep them?
I miss you, Elf-friend.

I miss having you as my friend. No one could make me laugh like you could. I’d jump up on a bench and sing Newsies while you watched and shook your head in amused exasperation. We’d climb on junglegyms and crawl through tunnels. You’d chase me, and tackle me, until I was laughing so hard…
Read more: I miss you, Elf-friend.
Aphrodite’s pupil and handmaiden.

(I wrote this a year ago in the midst of deep healing. I am a witch and my patron goddess is Aphrodite herself. I love her dearly. And I have ALWAYS loved love and romance. So let’s learn from her, let us love and be loved. At the moment I am feeling a little overwhelmed…
Read more: Aphrodite’s pupil and handmaiden.
The Sailor, the Sea, and Me.

(I had the idea for this this while on a ghost tour in Saint Augustine, Fl. The ghost tour guide, Dahlia, told all of us about a woman who became involved in bootlegging alcohol. She would walk to the widow’s walk each night and light a lantern to let the people of the town know…
Read more: The Sailor, the Sea, and Me.
I love me, I just don’t know if anyone else can… but I have hope.

I wrote this this morning. I’ve done a lot of healing from my own wounds and others. I’ve grown a lot in my spiritual practice. And still, it’s a blow to my pride when old habits and ego take over. My first instinct when in pain is to run and hide, like a wild animal.…
Read more: I love me, I just don’t know if anyone else can… but I have hope.
Sunlight – an old poem, revisited.

Sometimes I go through my writing and fondly remember something I have written, wallow in the remembrance, and leave feeling lighter. So here’s one for you. I wrote this in a dark place. I was with my last ex and we were fighting, always fighting. I was so tired of dark rooms and tears. I…
Read more: Sunlight – an old poem, revisited.
Thoughts and tears, let’s cry and journal.

TW: addiction, suicide, suicidal ideation, mental health. As a massage therapist, I see a lot of people. And I like to think I make their day a little more bright and a little less painful. But my favorite part of the job isn’t the actual massage; it’s when my clients feel they can open up…
Read more: Thoughts and tears, let’s cry and journal.
Icy castle walls

Winter makes me ache for spring. I don’t feel like myself until the crocuses bloom and I can feel the sting of sun on my skin once more. And every year it’s the same. The winter comes and I retreat. I go deep into the ground, and slumber with the dreams of green seeds and…
Read more: Icy castle walls
Am I forgettable, dear friend?

My dearest friend, Tell me… do you ever feel forgettable? I don’t mean the kind of forgetting where it’s amnesia like, and you’re just a hollowed out version of a girl they can no longer recall. I mean that slow sort of forgetting, where you fade like the roses in a bridal bouquet, once young…
Read more: Am I forgettable, dear friend?
Aphrodite and an Effigy

I still think of you sometimes, when the moon swells in the sky, and I wonder if you might see her radiance too. Do you notice her incandescence, her luminosity? Or do you think only of the men who breached her secrets and left their mark to prove they discovered her? She was her own,…
Read more: Aphrodite and an Effigy
Oh, I am sorry.

I’m sorry. I have apologies to make, to the people I loved, and to the people I didn’t. Peony hearts don’t thrive on blood, despite what I heard from the cruel witch in the forest. I nearly let it die, soaked in rouge. I mistook that warmth for life, even as petals withered and curled…
Read more: Oh, I am sorry.
Goodbye panther.

An oldie but a goodie. Woot! Read on dear ones… “I have to let you go.” My voice sounds strange, a whisper through hollow and bleached bones. I have crushed the conch shell of my heart with black combat boots, smashing it again and again until only pale pink and white pieces remain. He blinks…
Read more: Goodbye panther.
Rambles on a rainy day.

It doesn’t feel like December. Misty rain, here and then gone, seems to cover everything in a somber haze that’s quite appropriate for a grey day like today. Where is the snow? The red cheeks and the hot cocoa? The fingers held to the fire as Christmas music plays and your family laughs in the…
Read more: Rambles on a rainy day.
Untamed unicorn.

You heard tell of the wild and mythical mare, with the spiraling opal horn and emerald eyes. The unicorn that no man could tame. The legend that every night she turned into a woman, with nacreous skin and gemstone irises. They thought to bring her to her knees and make her submit. They knew little…
Read more: Untamed unicorn.
Kisses in the garden

Our time is over, my dear. It’s long past. But in my dreams I am on the stairs, studying a grand ballroom. I watch the men and women twirl and laugh, how the women sip lemonade and move their fans demurely to cover how their faces flush with desire, how the men smirk and… hunger.…
Read more: Kisses in the garden

Category: Uncategorized