Take me back

Take me back to the night we first met

and let me tell myself that your charm was poison

so that I could save myself the inevitable terror

of nights spent filled with tears

As your words spread through my veins like wild fire

and burned endless craters into my fleeting heart

Take me back to the first time you kissed me

and let me tell myself that your lips were simply

a tragically cruel maze, no destination

ether disguised as candy wine

a silent killer of fairy tales weaved with whiskey soaked tongue on mine

 

~Christie Page

 

Wildflower

Until very recently I used to think that I wanted to be chosen. I kept equating this gesture with worth and value. I thought I needed people, men in particular to choose me, so that I would somehow feel special or important. It wasn’t until a …