laceandpaper
The mixed musings of a thoughtful mind
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Latest Posts by laceandpaper
T-Minus 21
Twenty-one guns in a sudden burst
he is number six and comes with
a false sense of security and unexpected
endings at no extra cost
run through the flowers to fall off the cliff
Twenty past birth and settling too young
he is number five and he is easy he is
there he is sweet and he is kind
but he is not wanted
there is no hurt when the time runs out
Nineteen and accelerating fast
he is number four and he is nothing she
has known before or ever expected
it’s only perfect to a point
so the crash and burn is all the harder
Eighteen is self-centered and self-loathing
he is number three and he makes her feel
good but he is nothing that she wants
and little that she needs
it breaks her heart to crush his devotion
Seventeen owns naivete in every color
he is number two and he takes the pale pink
of unearned trust and stains it dark red
with sudden abandonment
it is her first lesson in one-sided love
Sixteen sweet doesn’t know any better
he is number one and he is her sun
and she is burned by his brilliance
brightness masking flaws
he is the high that will always be chased
Fifteen to One and more lifetime lived
than the rest combined but somehow less
if they knew what was coming
Perhaps
they wouldn’t have rushed.
A Reaction in Four Parts
When I asked if this was what you wanted,
you wouldn’t give an answer. The cancer
of uncertainty gnaws at my muddled
mind as I look back and wonder if all
this time was just a game when I saw you
in goodnights and birthdays and holidays
and futures. What sutures do you use to
close the wounds of unanswered thoughts? Perhaps
the good is lost in the bitter flavor.
When I asked if this was what you wanted,
you responded with anger. A stranger
emerged, unwilling to talk, to give a
glimpse of what was beyond the steely stare.
I’d praise you for your perseverance, your
unwavering commitment to this last
decision, if only I could know my
words would even be heard. No pity in
your words, to make letting go easier.
When I asked if this was what you wanted,
there was sadness in your tone, screaming through
the words that reluctantly emerged. I
could feel that you felt the pain that you dealt,
even as you said it didn’t matter.
Your subtle silences spoke volumes. This
was special. We were special. But that can’t
matter when you know that special can not
overcome unconcluded history.
When I asked if this was what you wanted,
you wouldn’t give an answer, because the
answer is clear: what we must do is not
always what we want.
Gas Prices Skyrocket
He bluffed, “It’s the cheapest you’ll find a vintage sports car.”
She huffed, “It looks rather new for a vintage sports car.”
Love for the ages: soft, steady, slow, and sweet, or a
flame: fast, beautiful, and deadly, like a vintage sports car.
Pulling off her shirt she felt revealed, reviled, repulsive,
telling herself it’s not trashy if you do it in a vintage sports car.
Cherry red, blood red, red wood. Scattered under moonlight.
On the accident report they called it a vintage sports car.
Heaven forbid honesty! Hide your feelings, your secrets,
undercover. Like in the driveway, a vintage sports car.
Status symbols: a Rolex watch, a million bucks, a
yacht in the bay. Trade your wife for a vintage sports car.
The past thrown away, left to rot and not be remembered.
Left to decompose in a junkyard next to a vintage sports car.
Lost, lonely, loveless? Ditch the club, forget online dating.
One thing that can never leave you: A vintage sports car.
To escape your problems you must run far away.
My suggestion? Zero to sixty in a vintage sports car.
A gold-digging robbery! Get away with his money, his heart,
a license plate reading RAY-RAY on a vintage sports car.
Sunset Over Atlantic
The tan line on my ring finger has faded,
just another reminder of the time we’ve lost
since that day at the beach when my ring
washed away with the tide. We couldn’t afford
to replace it. Maybe I should have taken that as
a sign.
Loitering
Smoke curls from the ashen tip
of a long-lit cigarette on a moonless night
The streetlamp light arcs through the rain
tiny diamonds disappearing to dust
He breathes out death, lungs burning
one more light will make it okay,
further from the end, another hour
for the pain to fade a little.
Smoke disappears like the rain in the
navy air, and yet the cool ice of her eyes
is all the more vivid in his empty mind.
The Boy That Never Was
There’s a candle in my window for
the boy who never was.
It flickers just as brightly as
the laughter in his eyes. The warmth
inside his heart is matched by nothing
but the flame, and the tiny drips
of melted wax, intricate as his mind.
The candle burns to mourn this boy,
the one I could have loved.
He may have lived - this boy, indeed.
But mine he never was.
In the Snow - prismacolor pencil and whiteout on paper
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
Before our first date you bought me white lilies. I guessed you didn’t know the symbolism. But as the two of us become one for the who-knows-what time – you, deep inside me and I, clenched tight around you – I wonder if you did. Sometimes I feel as if we have become dead together. Your burning skin pressed against me, answering my need, no longer smells like cinnamon, only sweat. As your lips caress my collarbone, my breast, my navel you no longer taste strawberry, only salt. This four-story apartment building, box-shaped and bland, no longer is a stepping stone to a better life, but just another reminder of how our plans fell through. I remember the lilies as your hands squeeze my aching flesh, too warm for a corpse. The sun rises and the birds chirp and I convince myself that we are not yet dead. Even if that sun has long faded our yellow curtains. Even if we hardly speak. Even if you no longer call me liebe, though we still make love. Even if your touch is the only thing I’m still living for.
To Tokyo, With Love
Long lost lover living out
of sight, out of mind. I find myself
forgetting how it was to lay
eyes upon you, to lay beside
the water, to feel the soft caress
of your whispered words on my
waiting ear. Lover half a world away,
I no longer remember the sharp
glint of your smile, the sensuous
depth of your laughter. All I remember
Is your impossible perfection. Absence
makes the heart grow ill, poisons
memories to be larger than
love. Stay away lover, I fear
you’ll rob me of my love for your
image. I have broken a commandment;
I idolize your memory above you.
The Boy That Never Was
There’s a candle in my window for
the boy who never was.
It flickers just as brightly as
the laughter in his eyes. The warmth
inside his heart is matched by nothing
but the flame, and the tiny drips
of melted wax, intricate as his mind.
The candle burns to mourn this boy,
the one I could have loved.
He may have lived - this boy, indeed.
But mine he never was.
Lone Tree - Rachel Schneider
Medium:
Calligraphy pens on paper
New Years Eve - Rachel Schneider
Medium:
Prismacolor Pencils and Sharpie on Paper
Glass Bottle Wrapped in Cloth - Rachel Schneider
Medium:
Graphite on Bristol Paper
Handle With Care
An inevitable conclusion
looms just out of sight of
my weak and wondering
eyes. Either we will last
forever or we will burn,
crash to the ground in
ugly flames of sulfur and
shame. Goodbye, good
bye, hello, goodbye. No
more farewells I beg,
either stay or go. My heart
cannot handle one more
hello just to end in another
goodbye. If I let you go it
will surely break. Please,
stop these mistakes that I
am too fragile to take.
Open
That brief moment you hold me so tight
your arms tremble and your voice
breaks and for that brief moment I see
into your heart and soul, your very being
and I see how you long for me and you
ache as I ache, ache to pull me closer
to bring you in to make you a part of me of
you of we not two, one being held together by
a silver cord of connection that no one or
two can sever, the pain in your eyes when I
must let go since I am one and you are one and
together we are still two not one but
someday the goodbye will cease and I see
for that moment you long as I long and I
know no doubt because I see you and you
see me and we are as close as the sea to the shore.
I had the pleasure of modeling for my favorite photographer and best friend this weekend. She's amazing, and you should check her out!
My favorite model visited this past weekend. I got some of these stellar shots around St. Augustine
The Boy That Never Was
There’s a candle in my window for
the boy who never was.
It flickers just as brightly as
the laughter in his eyes. The warmth
inside his heart is matched by nothing
but the flame, and the tiny drips
of melted wax, intricate as his mind.
The candle burns to mourn this boy,
the one I could have loved.
He may have lived - this boy, indeed.
But mine he never was.
Sometimes
Sometimes I wish you hadn’t died.
You left him so broken, beyond repair.
It was all I could do to keep him afloat,
treading water, a burden too heavy
for me to lift. You left him drowning
in unspoken love, unable to let go of
a deflated life preserver.
Sometimes I wonder what you’d think of me.
If you could would you thank me or would
you tell me that I could never heal him?
It was my job to gather the wreckage
you left behind. I taught him to love again,
but I could never teach him to let go.
I could never empty the ocean of hurt.
Sometimes I believe we could have been friends.
He clung to me too, driftwood in the open sea.
We must have something in common. He said
he thought I would like you. Even when his
heart was sore and his lungs were filled,
drowning in the memory of you. Friend,
can I tell you a secret?
Sometimes I hate you more than anything.
I hate what you did to him. I hate that no matter
how far away you are he can’t let go of you.
I hate that he will always love you, how he
doesn’t know how not to love you. I hate
you for dying – not that you chose to die. I wish
you had chosen. Maybe then he’d accept it.
Sometimes I feel like the other woman.
He’s still swimming through the waves,
fighting the current to get to you as if he
doesn’t realize you’ve already been pulled under.
I try to bring him back to shore, to my safe
harbor, but he’s still anchored in you.
Sometimes I think you are selfish.
When you had him you took him for granted,
and yet you held him tight enough to keep
him clinging to you like a buoy out at sea,
clinging to you for air. And now he still clings.
You can’t tell him to let go. Not that you would.
Sometimes I wish he had never met you.
Sometimes I am happy that you’re dead.
Sometimes I wish you never existed.
To Tokyo, With Love
Long lost lover living out
of sight, out of mind. I find myself
forgetting how it was to lay
eyes upon you, to lay beside
the water, to feel the soft caress
of your whispered words on my
waiting ear. Lover half a world away,
I no longer remember the sharp
glint of your smile, the sensuous
depth of your laughter. All I remember
Is your impossible perfection. Absence
makes the heart grow ill, poisons
memories to be larger than
love. Stay away lover, I fear
you’ll rob me of my love for your
image. I have broken a commandment;
I idolize your memory above you.
Equations in Momentum
If one train is moving south
at sixty miles per hour and
another train is moving north
at the speed of still,
will they notice the wind
rushing between them as they pass,
or are their worlds too far apart
to make a difference?
Loitering
Smoke curls from the ashen tip
of a long-lit cigarette on a moonless night
The streetlamp light arcs through the rain
tiny diamonds disappearing to dust
He breathes out death, lungs burning
one more light will make it okay,
further from the end, another hour
for the pain to fade a little.
Smoke disappears like the rain in the
navy air, and yet the cool ice of her eyes
is all the more vivid in his empty mind.