December 2012
3 posts
3 tags
Tonight;
shellywhite:
I’m craving a long incense-smoke-filled car ride to somewhere-and-nowhere; everywhere.
With the open-road eternally above, beneath, behind, around us. In us. Us.
I’m craving cold weather, bundle-up and hold-hands sort of weather.
I’m craving ephmerally clear nights, so we can match our freckles with the constellations in our snowglobe-of-a-night-sky.
I’m craving a conversation,...
11:57 p.m.;
shellywhite:
All these meaningless conversations. Texts. “Likes.” 140 characters of sans-serif type. Surface. Calls. Cold. Distance. I’m drowning in the need for more-than-a-few meaningful words. Breathless at 3 a.m. Close enough to touch. Heavy eyelids. Hope renewed. Secrets spoken. Breaking-down-the-walls kinda shit.
Trust. Connect. Genuine.
This; I need. And this; is far too rare.
One of the most amazing things I've ever been...
Him: "When things in life are broken, people are usually too lazy to fix them. You aren't. I know you aren't. But others are.
Me: "It's because I wear my heart on my sleeve, and everywhere else."
Him: "And it's because I know your passion can withstand cracks in things."
November 2012
3 posts
4 tags
I;
I wear my heart on my sleeve; somewhere in-between my collarbones and the tip of my left shoulder.
On my lips, and the tip of my tongue. In the tiny corners of my imagination that no-one sees or hears, and in those imagined thoughts that spill from my mouth.
I wear it beneath my eyelids, shielding my sea-green blues and filtering the world around me.
I see beauty in the darkest places;...
3 tags
Love;
shellywhite:
Or what I know of it, is like tying a crimson thread of permanence from your heart, to the object of your affections; whether it be a person, place, or moment; invisible to the untrained eye, but stronger than life itself.
It’s smudgy fingertips that heal previously undeserved bruises, as they brush against wrist bones and earlobes; sending silent morse-code whispers of hope to...
I'm a bundle of paradoxes; and this is only the...
shellywhite:
Sometimes; my heart is so passionately elated, I feel as though it’ll quite literally pop through the cage of my confining carbon ribs and explode into the sky, sending sparkly bits of stardust into the atmosphere; igniting life back where it all began.
I fall in love with everything and I see joy everywhere around me; and I can’t stand it.
Sometimes; my heart is so wearily...
July 2012
1 post
Hard to remember, but impossible to actually...
shellywhite:
Really, more often than not — I choose to not remember. Or at the very least, I lack being intentional at not forgetting. You’d think I’d have learned this by now; and that His Truth and Light would perpetually permeate my being, shaking me to my core — so that others might be shaken by His Love, too. But I’ve wandered, and my faith has taken a greater hit in these past few months...
May 2012
1 post
Of Sleep and Stardust;
shellywhite:
I’ve had three-too-many chipped porcelain mugs-full of milky Valerian tea lattes; and that, along with the last of the contents of my now-empty bottle of Melatonin, are beginning to enter my bloodstream. Sleep used to come so much more easily. My thoughts are waning, fading, and coming alive: refusing to be put to rest; in the same way that the tiny specks of dust danced in the...
April 2012
4 posts
Of knowing; and letting it be known.
shellywhite:
My darling girl, the word beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe how lovely you are. There are constellations behind the silvery sparkle in your eyes, silently screaming a story that is uniquely your own. A paradoxically beguiling story of pain. Joy. Heartbreak. Love. Loss. Gain. A story of redemption. They say that if one is really looking, the soul can be glimpsed through these...
Scandalous.
shellywhite:
Truth has always been beautifully offensive. Truth has never made sense in the eyes of the world. Truth relentlessly illicits a response, both positive and negative. But it’s real. It’s know this because of how Truth has made me feel, where Truth has taken me, and the breathtaking redemption I’ve personally witnessed in the name of Truth. I believe in Grace; a Grace that is too...
Of first and last breaths.
shellywhite:
I love coming across old things that I’ve written, but have yet to post. Here’s a little. : ] I’m currently sitting on the roof of my South Carolina home, watching the mid-January sun creep slowly over the leafless Maple trees; illuminating their spiny branches and drowing everything in a peachy, iredescent light. I was long overdue to watch — no, experience — a sunrise....
Of nothing and everything.
My daughter. I was there. I am here. The sounds. I heard them too. { There’s nothing you can do to make Me love you less than I do right now. } I know. Listen. This is how it goes. It all began with a breath. A sound. A scream. Glass hits the floor, shattering. She gasps suddenly. Her mind races and palms begin to sweat. The silence is deafening. One-one thousand. Two-one thousand....
March 2012
2 posts
Transparency;
shellywhite:
Only You can stir my soul in this way, but You can’t make me move. My feet grip the ground beneath me, carrying the carbon embodiment of my being — everywhere, but the place You want me to be. My mind swirls with bittersweet thoughts: the paradoxical coupling of a desire for You; and the false, barren practicality of a life spent without You. Lies; sticky as honey and heavy as lead,...
February 2012
1 post
Untitled;
shellywhite:
The thing is, when I have this many thoughts, I sometimes forget what to even do with them. It’s like I forget how to write, which is unusual, since anything having to do with words is typically second-nature to me. But sometimes, I’m afraid to write — fearful that the thoughts tattooed across my mind will not hold the same weight, or convey the same meaning as I intend them to,...
January 2012
2 posts
Of doubt, belief, and a wandering heart; beating...
As the piercingly white, January sun began to peer lucidly through the cracks in my windowpane this morning — seeping through my eyelids and rousing me from a gentle, unencumbered sleep just before 8 a.m.; my heart began to beat a bit faster, surging oxygen-rich liquid through my throbbing veins. I felt its pulsating rhythm quicken within me, causing my chest to rise and fall more rapidly,...
Of Falling Down Rabbit-Holes and the Un-Observance...
And now, cue the cliche, yet obligatory, New Year’s blog post — albeit, three days late. But, who’s counting? The existence of time, through the recording of days, hours, and minutes — seems so trivial, as of late. The kaleidoscopic colours of the rainbow have fallen in my mind and across my eyes, tainting and illuminating my stream of vision. Permanently tattooed and imprinted beneath my eyelids,...
November 2011
5 posts
Of the Haphazard, Golden Thread of Reverie.
As these words are typed, they are moving, shifting, and evolving – taking on new form as they are transferred from thoughts that were once beautifully scripted under low light, and permanently placed on smooth, beige parchment in a thick, ebony hue — morphing into electronic text that is carried by the familiar clicking of matte, silvery keys.
At their birth, each word was not hastily nor...
Of Honeysuckle and Hummingbirds.
Smoke and illumination from incense and candles fill my adequately sized, familiar bedroom — swirling through the air — grasping for the ceiling, then collecting, lingering, and finally dissipating at the copper and crystal chandelier just above my head — much like my thoughts over the past few weeks. Symphonic cello melodies from The Bohemian Forest dance into my ears, much like to an old friend...
Of Authenticity and Antiques.
My mind transports me to Memory Lane: reminding me of a season recently past. From where I am sitting, I obtain a perfect view of the activity, both near and far, that is whirring around me — filling my eyes, ears, and nose with an extreme, sensory-laden experience. The sights, sounds, and smells overwhelm me, reviving the once dormant areas of my creative soul. At the moment, I am nestled cozily...
Of Cigarettes, Cinnamon, and Vagabond Daydreams.
I love the complexity, yet simplicity of human emotion, and the way in which the smallest of things — such as a subtle, lingering scent, or a moment within the melody of a vinyl that is played on repeat — can trigger feelings, evoke inspiration, and cause me to be reminded of a memory that I’m not sure even happened, but subconsciously can’t seem to ever forget. But the...
Of Unconventionality and a Heartbeat Obsessed With...
Just as the seasons are in the midst of transition — morphing from the glimmering, iridescence of Summer, with its’ honey-thick breeze and seemingly endless illuminated skies; into the smoky-sweet, kaleidoscopic pause of Autumn’s mystery, before all sinks into Winter’s sullen desolation — so, in a similar way, my heart is beginning to turn, swell, and beat faster. It beats with a holy discontent...
