on repeat

I close my eyes and vanish underneath the sheets

My soul is tired

My soul is empty

My soul will heal.

Leave the light on and carry me through these dark streets.

My soul is tired

My soul is empty

My soul will heal.

Your love is music and now I am missing the beats.

My soul is tired

My soul is empty

My soul will heal.

My self is melting while our story is on repeat.

ruined memories

My soul is tired
I’m out of dreams
I am in too deep.

Lost in you
Losing at your games
I’m burning in the flames.

You don’t care
And I don’t matter
Words like weapons.

My clouds are filled with rain
Without me, you once felt pain
Abject loneliness profoundly fit.

Be gone. Ruined memories.

Unquiet Minds and Writing Notes

It’s me again… your favourite poet. Today I shipped 10 copies of Unquiet Minds and two of Writing Notes all around the globe.
Unquiet Minds – amazon               Writing Notes – amazon

Notice the different names… one is my real name, the other is my alias and the name of this blog too.

I offer signed copies of my books. Shipping in Europe is 2,90€. Shipping to the rest of the world is 4,10€. Payment should be made with PayPal.

I am still in the early days of this all and I am figuring it out as I am progressing. Learning by doing, it’s called, isn’t it.

When I stood in line at the post-office this afternoon, I had a thought that isn’t leaving me ever since: Evidence of my existence is being spread across the world right now. Isn’t that weird? My book will be in the hands of a reader in Brazil. His friends might be curious about the cover and even if they are not… if he doesn’t throw the book away, if it is not destroyed or sold into a different country, there will be a copy of my book in Brazil. It is such a humbling feeling. Exciting too.

Today, I shipped out to New South Wales (Australia), Brazil, Colorado (US), Texas (US), Manchester (UK), 2x London (UK), New York (US), Canada, Greece, Luxembourg. All these people will receive their signed copy of my book with a personal note inside.

If you want one too, get in touch… and we will make it happen.

I was approached to pay 100$ for 4 reviews… I declined. I know that I need publicity for my books, but I would rather have genuine reviews from people who willingly emerge themselves in my poetry than any other review.

Also, I finally dared to share the book with my family and friends on FB. The support was surprising. A member of our regional council offered to sell Unquiet Minds at our town hall in support of the local arts. Apparently, I am only one of two published authors in my municipality. We’ll see where that leads.

And, I have to admit that I am a huge coward though… My neighbour offered to sell my book to friends and whoever enters her bar. I don’t know her well. Only drank twice with her, lol. I didn’t dare to bring her the copies she asked for. I feel weird doing it, although I also know that her offer is genuine. Just the act of ringing the bell at a neighbour’s who you don’t know all that well and asking for such a huge favour… it’s not in my nature. So, if you would like to help me out here, be my guest. I am one of those who stands in her own ways too many times. But, whatever… this is not one of those posts.

Remember, shipping worldwide. Signed if you want to. Or simply order on amazon. It is good contemporary poetry. Give it a try.

Thank you, Cathy

This is weird.

For the first time in weeks or months, I woke up with no notifications on my phone. Nothing.

Really weird.

Happy Sunday to all of you.

Cathy

By the way… Did you remember to get your copy of Unquiet Minds or Writing Notes on Amazon? Do it.

Jump

I am standing on the edge trying to catch the pieces of me that are breaking free.

If I was brave, if I was strong, if I was you, i would find those elusive pieces too.

My weakness is my strength, my weakness is on my sleeve. My weakness is my fear that you will leave.

Inside there is this burning desire. A soul on fire. Suffocating. And so I step onto the ledge.

I am standing on the edge trying to catch the pieces of me that are breaking free. The pieces that want to be with you.

I will never be your woman

I am taking back the words that used to be just for you. I am taking back myself. You don’t control my emotions anymore. You are not real. You are a liar, a fraud. If they knew what I know, if they saw what I have seen, then they wouldn’t treat you like a god. Your secrets are safe with me though, don’t worry. Don’t come back. Don’t beg for me to come back. I promised forever, but you don’t want it anymore. You threw me away like a used toy. I understand. I accept it. I am relieved that you let me go. Surprisingly, I am not sad or hurt or disappointed. But, I will never be your Sweetie again. And you should be aware that you will never find a woman like me again.

(Either this could be added to the series of “letters to a stranger”, or it could be a new “writing note”… Fiction of course.)

Heatwave – mature content

The heat, it got to her. She had always had a healthy sex-drive, but this here right now was a lot, even for her standards. She felt insatiable. Always in the mood.

Naked as she was, she let the light breeze, that found a way into her bedroom, caress her skin. It was as if her lover was gently tracing her nooks and folds and crannies with his tongue. She closed her eyes and arched her back. This felt good. Her hands knew where to go on their own. No explanation needed. One hand massaged her breast and played with her nipples, while the other hand traveled south. Legs spread wide, she didn’t waste time. Too good. She was wet. Not moist; no, dripping wet. The sound her body made as her fingers entered her spurred her on. She needed it. Right then. Right there. The smell of her own sex engulfed her and laid a thin veil over her senses, blocking out her environment. Sweat was covering her; droplets rolling down and pooling between her breasts. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue moaning deep within her throat. Almost there. She didn’t take her time, didn’t prolong the explosion that was at the tips of her fingers. Her legs were shaking. Ragged breath. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes were closed. More. More. More of this. Her hips moved on their own accord, trying to find more friction. The tingling that had started inside of her was spreading fast. She threw her head back with another moan. Her back was arched, her hair was drenched in sweat. Pulling her legs back to reach more; to enter herself deeper. It was there, she felt the wave coming. Ready to let her lose her mind.

Another touch startled her. Not her own hands. They ruined her orgasm. Calloused, male hands. Asking for permission to continue what she had started. She took her hand from her pussy, tasting her own lust with a sly grin. Eyes meeting eyes. Dilated pupils didn’t hide their carnal desires. The sensation of his hands on her was too much to bear. He knew how to push her buttons. He knew exactly how to read her body. What had started slow and casual was building up again. She was biting her hand to keep herself from screaming out her lust, but he didn’t allow it. He demanded to hear her. And there it was. The right touch. The right pressure. Too fast. Too soon. Her entire body tensed. She stopped breathing. And the heat swallowed her from within. Sensitive to his touch, she tried to move away, but he was not done. The night was young and it was too hot to sleep anyway…

20180726

Did you know? I published two paperback poetry collections this month.

Ever since, I feel as if I am getting my balance back. I did something that means a lot to me. I fulfilled my own dream instead of waiting for someone else to do it. And it feels amazing.

Although… I am a bad business woman. I don’t make money and I don’t advertise nearly enough. Instead, I ordered a bunch of copies of Unquiet Minds, and I am giving them away (for free). See? Bad business woman. I invite you to visit Amazon and buy your copy, or get in touch and we can figure something out. It is great poetry from the heart, and it looks great too. Promised.

So yes, I am way better than I was last month. Thank you for your support. I appreciate it more than you know.

Cathy