Tuesday, February 26, 2008


She walks as though she holds a secret.

Muffles around her fail to reach the heat beneath her skin.
Step off the edge of his jawline.

Let him lose your scent.
Hot Red Lights.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Did you doubt the curve of the earth?

I ached for you. And though I would never look back, I broke a part of myself in order to break free, and sometimes, this new skin is colder than the original, tougher—by necessity, but nonetheless lonely. I am not the innocent blonde in your backyard anymore. I am not the summer girl in your bed. I am not your letter-writing illusion across the country.
My words are mine. But because they belong solely to me, they are often alone.
Strong. But alone.
I am frustrated with the way I have slapped myself in the face.
Because with Jesse, I head-on trusted what I’ve been running away from all along.
And so, it is not about what he did to me, it is about the self-guided collision course I blindly drove through.
It is about the small feeling that somewhere within me, I am back where I started.
And that others have found their place in the space I sensed I would fill.
Stephanie Draughon.
Stephanie Jensen.
I am nowhere near what you’ve found.
When no one is listening, a stealthy sense of self-pity offers its company.
I loathe its voice.
I can be strong alone, but must I be?

Lyndsi Shae 2:48 AM
February 16th, 2008.

"There is no excellent beauty which hath not some strangeness of proportions."
--Francis Bacon

Thursday, February 14, 2008

.You're vicious like the blue sky.

THE DAY: Valentine's Day.
THE TIME: 9:27 pm
THE MUSIC: Curve of the Earth; Matt Nathanson
THE MOMENT: to come.

You're listening tree is losing its leaves
I am your friend but not that naive
All the clouds you have seeded astray
Will open the sky into rain
Just how long it'll last I can't say
But it's time you get out
Stand under the heavens
And put your umbrella away
--Umbrella; Brett Bixby

I will not say that I thought all unrest had come to a conclusion,
though I was hoping my anticipation would soon find calmer waves.
A mirage of the sunrising:
Flickered into a deceptive twilight.
I was shocked into
black and white
half and half
eliza and lyndsi shae.
Inganno. engaño. Täuschung. Deception.

Sonata Allegro.
Exposition, Recapitulation...
I will not be snowed in by your agenda.
My path deviates, and away I fly.
Not fleeing, but choosing, with calm resolution, to not end up with this version of my Father, of your Father, of what is not enough.
I do not apologize, to myself, for my false perception of your character.
I do not apologize to you at all.
The reality of now: my doubtless staccato goodbye.