do you know what I see
when I look into her eyes
I see a lot of strengths
I see the past she hides
I feel her emotion
deep in my blood
I see her unsureness
I know how to love
Her eyes are so deep
that sometimes I get lost
she is like the first leaf of fall
or winter’s first frost
she takes you by surprise
she always has more
this woman’s real special
she’ll leave your heart sore
you never know what to get
you always know it’s gonna be good
I love this woman
like I never thought I could
I know it is gone
I know I should just let go
but the violence I saw
cursed the life that I know
I know there is hope
I know there is good
but you wouldn’t like my nightmares
even if you thought that you could
deal with the visions
deal with the screams
the strength to calm your mind
the missing piece
the curiousity of how
this can shape a person’s self
and still allow a person
not to turn into someone else
no matter the pain
or the treachery done
it’s important to stay good
and help everyone
I used to think
it was some sort of bliss
a jist
to take you away
from your everyday drear
but that was not found
it turned me around
I was alone for a while
and now I’m here
the life is still there
the barriers firm
but with just one look from her
I know my strength is affirmed
she guides me when I’m lost
I take her hand when she strays
it is just a part
of our everyday
there’s magic without glitter
and bliss without facade
I never expected this
it’s not something that can be bought
sometimes, I think I’m dreaming
sometimes, I fear she’ll be gone
sometimes, I wonder
how does she know my song
Nicole Higginbotham writes lesbian romance novels. She is currently working on her newest project, “Progress”, which will be available for online viewing up until it’s publication date.
“Progress” starts out with Dean, a young woman that lost her partner in a car accident. During her time of mourning, the woman takes a job at a hotel, leaving her old life behind. When a new woman gets hired to assist her in running the hotel [Kayla], Dean gets defensive, and the two battle it out until the doors of the past are reopened. In the meantime, Dean is called back to her side job as a private investigator and has to break the secrets behind a drug-hustling prostitution ring without blowing her cover. Dean and Kayla begin to grow close, and as everything plays out, Dean has to decide what is important in her life and if she will ever be able to let another person in without blowing her cover.
the cracks in my mind
were created a long time ago
in a life that almost seems faint and unreal
and the surreal bit of me that goes into the new life I see
wonders if one can almost play so many parts in so many years
I hear the echos of the past
but the memories are hard to recognize
sometimes, it seems my dreams give me clues
I know my jerk reactions when I’m surprised
show that something happened too
and the way it is hard
for someone to touch me
even in a polite or civilized way
It takes time for me to get used to
the fact that not everyone is trying to take me away
for selfish reasons or in vain
I’ve had gentle experiences
that show the difference
but it is very difficult to comprehend
my instant reactions
to some of the factions
make me question my haunting’s end
but there is light in the tunnel
and I pray often if not everyday
and the woman by my side
when I lay on her chest
it seems like it almost goes away
the scent of her perfume
made me weak
I pinned her down onto the sheets
both still clothed
but very in need
I could feel my pants roll past my knees
she kissed me hard
both wrestling for control
wanting to allow the other to let go
as I lifted her shirt, I felt her soft skin brush mine
I craved her love
I reached behind
undid the clips that held that last frontal fabric intact
kissed down her chest
watched her react
I undid the button one-handed and fast
and slipped off her pants
no barriers of clothing
I was free at last
I dove in her depths
listening to the pleasurable cries
knowing that my love was more
than I could express between her thighs
I said “Hey, miss, can I steal a kiss. I may not be rich, but I’ll be generous.”
She smiled, real shy, but I couldn’t tell why.
Her resistance to attraction would just be a lie.
I tried to move forward.
She started to lean in.
She was real nervous, but you could tell she wouldn’t let it win.
I put my arms around her and squeezed her tight.
She laid on my muscular chest, the shaking subsided.
Though she was older, this woman was pure.
She was not one to play around. She didn’t even know she could be queer.
It didn’t really matter, because what we shared was unique.
I leaned in towards her and kissed her cheek.
I knew we didn’t have to be fast.
There was nothing wrong with slowing the pace,
because when you’re really in love, it isn’t really a race.
the scars of the past
rotten in the beds on the skin
knowing that they are gone
but still feeling the pain within
and when one finds good
and a chance for something new
it is difficult to know
how to adapt to
a new kind of life
with no predators or snakes
a new kind of life with love and forgiven mistakes
used to broken spirits and negative thoughts
a new kind of life doesn’t seem a possibility that was taught
a new kind of life with goodness and happiness
a new kind of life with peace instead of violence
and I sit in the silence
ready to get up
a new kind of life
yeah, that’s what I want
quiet by nature
she sold me with her glance
a bit of a smile
a lot of a trance
her confidence was steady
her head held high
and you could tell she didn’t care
about the public eye
hesitant about the kiss
we both shook at once
it was like we had went through our lives
without being touched
skin on skin
clothes just barriers to passion
there was no written rules
and this was done in no sort of fashion
the necks, the shoulders, the breasts, and then, more
we couldn’t get enough
we couldn’t get bored
and as we were feeling mass exhilaration
we looked each other in the eyes, feeling the inflation
we both spoke our love
truth in our eyes
knowing that this moment was one of life’s hidden surprises
I sit at the table
and pick up the pen
but no future is written
and the path is long where I’ve been
for promise and hope
are unknown to the eye
so it is difficult to predict
what stands outside
the box of interpretation of life we have made
so at this table
I have stayed,
sipping my coffee
drawing inkblots with my pen
because I can only predict
based on where I’ve been
I try for a letter, a word at the least
hoping it will find me
hoping I’ll be free
this writer’s block
has put a wall around my brain
creating exhaustion
the words still mundane
I lift my pen again, focused on the thought
one word after another
but I started with a blot
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