writing

i’m yours

~ GennaClaire ~ Leave a comment

“I’m yours.” That’s what she wanted to say to him. I have been ever since we sat and spoke together. Ever since we moved past hello’s and harmless flirtation.

That first real conversation that was slightly deeper than superficial, when I caught a casual glimpse at the depth of you, the beauty of your spirit, the kindness trapped behind weary eyes. The strength earned from being a survivor. I was yours just then.
But I cannot say it. I cannot utter those two words. I would be condemned to you, you with too many monsters to take on love. Too many ghosts haunting you, too many burdens to bear. You can barely keep your head above water. The weight of this might sink you all together.

the human heart

~ GennaClaire ~ Leave a comment

“The human heart is vast enough to contain all the world” ~Conrad

Her heart felt vast in an uncomfortable kind of way. It felt vast in an empty, abandoned warehouse kind of way. In a broken down, left behind, discarded, scattered, unkempt, desolate kind of way.
An emptiness that can only come from something that was once filled with life. The most notable kind of emptiness. Where something once had been. Where love once had been.
The human heart is vast enough to contain all the world. And it is vast enough to contain nothing at all.
So much nothing, there is not even room for anything else.

our revolution

~ GennaClaire ~ Leave a comment
My heart is a revolutionary cell.
A chance to believe. A weapon of creation.
My life is an opportunity to change.
Even incrementally. Even minutely. Even infinitesimally.
But, the world will not be changed by one revolutionary heart. One gypsy spirit. One wayward son. One idealistic daughter.
The world will be changed by the sum of all the hearts and spirits and sons and daughters.
As sure as she rounds the sun in a wheel of time,
She is changed.
Constantly evolving with every beating revolutionary heart.
So do not despair. Do not abandon your post.
See the strength in numbers. See the strength in time.
To be a revolutionary is not to witness the revolution.
It is to leave behind an idea, a thought, a subtle shift that can be traced even in this chaotic, spinning world.
So do not despair. Do not abandon your post.
For just as my heart is a revolutionary cell, so can yours be also.

vanity

~ GennaClaire ~ Leave a comment

This obsession wrecks and kills.
Compliments are only thrills.
Watch and look and notice me.
Feed my soul with flattery.

Trapped by mirrors. Locked inside,
With all the flaws you try to hide.
Take a photo. Hold it dear.
Beauty fades; your gravest fear.

Old and wrinkled. Spotted. Grey.
Nothing gold can ever stay.
Stolen by that master time.
Beauty thief, most deadly crime.

Sacrifices must be made.
Take my other strengths for trade.
Wit or stealth or joy of soul,
Can fill me up, but not make whole.

For value comes in slender thighs,
In luscious lips and endless eyes,
In busts so full and waistlines slim,
In fantasies and surface whims.

Better hope your baby girl,
Has ivory skin and lashes curl.
Better hope her dreams do rest,
On flatter stomachs, larger breasts.

Now wake up, suck in, take the scale.
Fight the fight, but never tell,
Your weakness and your strength are one.
Build back up to come undone.

every girl has a weakness

~ GennaClaire ~ Leave a comment

I’m a sucker for boys with dark eyes. Like fresh-brewed shots of espresso. Eyes with depth. Eyes that could tell you stories. That wear the weight of all the things they’ve seen. Eyes that say more than words and voices ever could. The first time you look into them, all you see is a warning, but you can’t look away. Those soulful, woeful, endless eyes.

One wink, and all I can hope to do is surrender.

a toast to failed plans

~ GennaClaire ~ Leave a comment

On that particular New Years Eve, they dressed up in pressed collars and stiletto heels and waited in line in the cobblestone streets to get inside. But the line did not move as the clock ticked on toward midnight. So they abandoned their plan, grabbed a frozen pizza and a bottle of champagne and headed back to the apartment.

They spent the rest of the night sitting on the carpet in front of the television, sipping bubbles, holding hands and watching the East Coast celebrate from Nashville to New York.

She knew then, with absolute certainty, it was going to be a good year.

everything to me

~ GennaClaire ~ Leave a comment

I used to believe that one person could be my world, my everything. That my whole existence could be perfectly wrapped around someone else. I used to believe this was an acceptable way of thinking. Healthy. Normal. Noble, even.

It was only when I moved away and started anew and went down a path completely alone that I realized how wrong I was.

I had spent far, far, far too long with someone, believing he was everything. When he or I or both of us faltered and our relationship winced and buckled, we held on. Clinging desperately to the lackluster, so afraid to lose it all. Afraid to be left with nothing.

How unfair it is to allow someone else, anyone else to be everything. When in fact, we are our own everything. We exist completely on our own – our beings fully separated from anyone else. With our own thoughts and feelings and breaths and dreams. Our own ambitions and hopes and desires.

I’m glad I chose to move away. Went down this unknown path alone. I’m glad I got far enough away from you to realize you were not my everything. And we were not anything at all.

Just two scared kids, clinging to the lackluster. No idea how to let go.