Unaware.

I can't sleep.
Must I keep
Telling you
That I do?

If I say
I'm awake
We can speak
And I will sleep.

I am here
Very near
And you are there
Unaware.

If I say
I'm awake
We can speak
And I will sleep.

But I turn
Though I yearn
For lullabies
To close my eyes.

I would say
I'm awake
But these secrets
I must keep.

Memory.

He held her in his arms and led her around the ballroom.  His gaze was transfixed on her as if he were holding an angel, one with bare feet and a dress that swayed to the melody.  She felt his eyes, but pretended not to notice.  Time stopped.  Others saw only dancing, but together they soared.

A memory powerful enough
to break the wall
between
universes.

-Theresa-

She swallowed and felt her skin go damp.  It was a good thing she was sitting down, because her knees felt like water.  She'd told herself it wouldn't be a big deal, but she lied to herself a lot.  And now everyone was staring.  Waiting.
You have a voice.  It's about time others heard it.
Gripping her ukulele, she raised her lips to the microphone and began to sing.

Survive.

Born for
 the blue skies.

We'll survive
  the rain.

The Blank Page.

Well, here goes.  I'm writing a blog.  Hopefully it goes better than my multiple failed journaling attempts . . . but no promises.

A blog.  What a funny concept.  Is it a diary or a social medium?  I suppose I can use this space to write whatever I wish, and you, reader, can use these words to think of me however you will.  But the truth is, I sit at blank pages and bleed.  You will here find, if you choose to read, the many little quirks that compose me, as well as the deepest parts of my inner soul.  It's a vulnerable, stripped feeling, but so is all writing.  Whether fiction or fact or fantasy, every string of words houses a hidden part of its author.  All it takes to uncover these bits of character is a mind like a magnifying glass.

So enjoy.  I am cryptic.  I am dramatic.  I daydream.  I am in love.  I wander.  And I see beauty in everything.