All photos and content © Tanya Anguita.

Saturday, January 6, 2018

i am a light house

I am a lighthouse,
a lantern waiting in the darkness
to guide you safely to the shores of
your truest Self.
I offer calm moorings
in the shadows of the unknown
and guidance
when you can't find your way.

I will be here,
come rain or storm,
come stars or sunlight,
on the cliffs of uncertainty
offering solace and shelter,
laughter and love,
patience and understanding.

I am a lifeboat,
a small craft
built to pull you from difficult waters.
When you think you might be drowning,
I will bring you aboard and wrap you in blankets,
offering you something safe to hold onto
when you are numb with cold
and aching from it.

I will not let you heed the sirens' lying song of
 "not enough...too much...can't... failure"
that lures you to your demise.
I will sing you another one,
softly in your ear
"loved...cherished...seen...as is"
and sing it again,
like a soothing lullaby
until you put your weary head in my lap,
close your tired eyes,
and sleep a restorative sleep.

I am a flare
that lights up the night,
offering a beacon of assistance
in the worst of your gloom.
When your mind feels lost
and even the Black Dog has abandoned you,
I will shine on your sorrows,
Hold your hand while you face them,
Embrace you while you let them go.
I will bring luminescence
to gently shine in the corners
of your deepest fears
and show you that even those
can be transmuted into loveliness.

I am a cup of warm cocoa,
hot in your hands on a chilly night,
sweet on your tongue and
comforting to your spirit.
I offer pleasure and ease,
Familiarity and trust,
and a satisfying heat in your belly.
With each sip
I remind you that there is
contentment to be had
in the simplest of things.

I am the truth mirror
on the wall of your doubt
that sees all of you
human and flawed
imperfect and whole.
I am made to show you
the breathtaking person
that looks into my shining glass.
I see the real you inside you.
Your fear does not define you.

I am a True Friend
who aspires to be all of these things
and so much more.
I come to you with an open mind,
a full heart,
and the promise to hold you and your friendship
with gratitude and gentle strength
in the safest part of my soul
like the treasure that you and it is.

You are never alone.
Never forget that.
You are never alone.


Sunday, December 31, 2017

Fallen stars....

There are no gold stars tonight,
They have all fallen from the sky
and into my soul.
I've made wishes on them.
Would you like to hear them?

I wish I may
I wish I might
Wish the wish
I wish
tonight....

I wish
to
to brush my mouth against yours
so achingly slowly
so gently
you aren't even sure that I'm there,
savor your lips,
our breath catching and mingling
at the pleasure of first contact.

I wish
to
run at you,
to climb you,
to push you against a wall
your face in my hands,
fingers tangling in each other's,
nibbling and sucking at your bottom lip,
our kisses deepening in a frenzy of
tongues sparring,
teeth nipping,
reveling in the playful glory
of it all.

I wish
to
run my hands.... well...
 Everywhere;
to unbutton your shirt,
unzip your fly,
to undress you,
unmask you,
release you,
to delight in all that you are,
to be a mirror
that shows you your own majesty,
beauty and glory,
to show you with every look,
every touch,
every kiss,
how
I
see
You.

I wish
for
the taste of your skin
hot on my tongue,
between my teeth,
the scent of our bodies mingling
spicy in the air,
the sounds of gasps
and appreciative moans
making sensual music
as we discover
every driving inch of
each other.

I wish
to
feel your weight on me,
mine on you,
to crawl under your skin,
wrap myself around you,
feel you fill me,
to take all of you,
in the waning twilight,
our bodies bending with each other,
bracing against each other,
mindless in the moment,
limbs far flung,
tangling and twining;
my push to your plunge
bringing us closer
ever closer
to the brink;
desire fueling desire,
need fueling need,
the magic and mayhem
of senses on overdrive

i wish
to
feel your hands on my hips
as i grind into yours,
to tangle my fingers in your hair
and pull just hard enough
and then a little harder,
your groans in my ear
and your breath on my face,
our eyes locked
unfiltered
reading each other's expressions,
moving as one,
guiding,
grasping,
thrusting,
muscles tight and ready,
building the flames,
the holy on our lips
as we ride this together
until the end

i wish
for
the ache to subside,
to be sated
(for the moment),
to be limp with exhaustion,
senseless and satisfied,
worn out by our animal need,
curled up next to you,
sleepy and fulfilled,
the lazy, heavy warmth of you
pressed against me,
so right and so good,
reveling in the taste
you leave
in my mouth.

You see?

I am on fire.
You lit the match
And fan the fervency,
of the sensual charge that feeds
the slow burn inside me.

I am
All too aware
of the desire consuming me whole;
arousal leaves me taut and hungry;
deep in the depth of want,
remembering what it is to be wanted,
wanting want to be fulfilled;
even if it shouldn't be,
won't be,
can't be....
for now.

I honor that.
I hold the pause in my heart.
That doesn't lessen the longing.

There are no gold stars tonight,
They have all fallen from the sky
and into my soul.
I've made wishes on them.
Would you like to hear them?









Thursday, December 21, 2017

Fledgling Wings

Hope is all I have.

She is small,
but Fierce,
and
like me,
she is Enough.

She flies on fledgling wings
born of fire and ash.

She harbors no fugitives
in her newfound feathers.
They are simply there
to help her take flight,
to protect her young,
and to keep her warm
when Doubt attempts
to spreads his chill over her soul.

From under the battlements
of Unhappiness
She takes to the air,
Screeching her triumph
Into the storm swept sky.

She Knows she deserves
More than This.

She would rather go hungry
than eat from the dual carcasses of
Despair and Darkness ever again.

Defying the burning pyre
that was
supposed to be
Her funerary bed,
She wheels and dances on the wind.

Rising ever higher
in a flurry of Grace,
touched by Love,
bolstered by Friendship,
with Strength gained by Action,
She sings her Willingness
to the heavens
As an act of Joyous Survival,
Turns three times above me,
then settles down
to build her safe-haven
in my Heart.




Wednesday, December 20, 2017

Sweet Nothings/Nothing Sweet

When I whisper
"sweet nothings"
in your ear
there will be
nothing
"sweet"
about it.

It will be
hot-breathed,
heated,
appetence and ache,
all teeth and tongue,
while nipping at your neck.

There will be
low hums
and
gritty moans
sung
from the recesses
of my soul
into the
riveting depths
of yours.

There will be hair pulled,
breath matched and caught,
while fingernails
run aching paths
down arching backs.

I'll talk of
fucking
on the hood
of my warm car
in the winter sunlight
by the lake,
our breath
coming
in rapid
puffs of white,
(heat from our lungs
doing combat with the crisp air)
muscles taut and bodies hot,
as we remove
only
the pieces of our clothing
necessary
to make this work
without
freezing to death.

I'll suggest,
with my hand on your fly,
my tongue in your ear,
that you let me
tie
You
(your turn ..... This time)
blindfolded
to the kitchen chair;
persuading you
with my touch
to utter your breathless
"YES."
Urging you to
imagine
how it feels
when I
stealthy and silent
leave a room
just
long enough
for you to wonder
if I've abandoned you;
letting you know
that i might return
right before worry does,
with ice between my parted lips
to run across
your tensed muscles,
as you buck up to meet me.

I'll render for you
in painterly tones
the way your skin tastes
after a long night together,
the scent of you
at twilight,
the weight and supple strength
of you tangled up with me
in the near dark
and how I revel
in the symphony of sounds,
low and sweet,
that you compose --
impromptu --
as I play you
like a
late night
cello.

I'll remind you
about the way
our eyes
lock and hold
at the moment of connection,
how time slows
in the aching, gasping heat
of our bodies mingling
and our souls meeting
in physical form.

At the point which
you
(eagerly)
ask me to go on,
I'll suggest,
slyly,
that the next time
you have the chance to back
me up against that alley wall,
pinning me there
with my arms above my head --
your hard thigh
pressed between my legs --
that you should
perhaps
TRY
to remember
that I'm wearing a skirt
...
and little else.

Self-immolation,
My Darling,
is more fun with two.

Tuesday, December 5, 2017

Closure







You tasted of vanilla
and moon beams,
Shone
like the
Summer sun
And
         I
  f
      e
           l
               l
into
the
Abyss
of your charisma
And almost drowned
In your seductive words
And easy charm.

I
was under water
and
over my head
 with you.

Because
your wit
played well with mine.

And
our wordlove
intertwined
At all
the right intersections.

Sentences made out in dark alleys
And laughed against each other
 with wild abandon in public

And
    I
  Leaned
into your quicksilver tongue
Thinking all those
 slippery words
 meant something.

I was
starving
for a like mind
 and you
filled all of that hunger
        and more.

You sated my mind
 and starved my body
and I
couldn't differentiate wordplay
   from foreplay.

That was my failing and my undoing.

I see that now.

I wanted
And
you Said
you wanted
 but never acted.

And the words ...
 Oh...the Words...
they held All the keys
 to my locked up desires
and
   I
       Believed
 with all the zealous fervency
born of hope
fueled by mixed messages
and actions that belied a truth
I didn't want to see.

We should have
stayed
 what we were really becoming
---  the best of friends.

But your words
spoke of Desire
And my desires
 then spoke Words
And
some things
broke
 in the middle
 (including my tender heart).

 At the time
 I blamed you for using me ill.

Since then,
I have had time to think
...and have come to fathom
 the Truth.

You loved the Idea
 me
--The laugh and banter
    Ease of me.

And I
 Thought
   I loved You.

And our Brains --
Our word-happy,
 quick-witted
    Brains...
They danced together.
They were bosom companions.
They delighted in each other's
swiftness and in the match they found
In the other.


Mine still misses yours
But
with more clarity now.

I hope
you can forgive me
for believing your
sex-charged words
 instead of seeing them
 for
the continuation
of the verbal tango
 that made us such fast friends.

Because I can see now
 that That is what they were.

And what We
   were meant to be.


6/24/17
For E...written the night before he died. 

Thursday, June 29, 2017

Words Matter


"Words matter. Never forget this."

This was my soul speaking to me at the witching hour. When my soul speaks, I listen.

"Words," it said, "have might. Words have majesty. Words have prowess. Words have
power. Words are safety and solace, fire and fuel, danger and delight.

Words, with an express delivery, deliver expression. When you're feeling expressive they
express feeling. They are capable of creative clarity and clear creativity.

Words cajole. Words tease.
Words try me. Words release me.

Words hold me, hurt me, heal me, haunt me. Words keep me company when I cannot sleep.

Words are the delicious delicacies in the stuff of my dreams. Words are the disturbing
demons in my waking nightmares. Words challenge me when I need to grow. Words
comfort and console me when I feel small and need them most.

Words have potential. Words carry thought and bestow meaning.

Words have weight. So often I wait for the right words to wait on me. To lean into me,
weighty while I await their weighted might.

Words are written in the secret places of my psyche and proclaimed in a timeless ink on
my skin. Look closely...anyone with a patient eye will see them. There, love is penned on
the parchment of hope. You'll read longing and desire, and savor the satisfying flavor of
fulfillment. There is heartbreak and hurt, bravery and bravado, appetence and ache,
strength, wisdom, humour, and a sprinkling of magic.

Truth lives in my words, beauty too, and a wicked laughter that appears most often when
shared.

Words have a life of their own. Words live on long after they're said.

Words can be as playful as a water pistol or as serious as a silver bullet hurtling towards
your heart.

Words can be colder than an ice flow and more cutting than a butcher's knife. Words can
freeze your spirit and kill you with their arctic cruelty.

Words can wrap you in a sultry warmth you won't want to recover from and keep you
comforted in a way no duvet will ever achieve. Words can be hotter than a naked lover
on a cold winter night.

Words cradle me in the arms of angels. Words hide me from the vengeful enemies that
are my cruelest monsters. Words both create and slay the hide-y bastards that lurk in the
corners of my word hungry mind. Words chew on the bones of my secret fears.

You cannot unsay words. You can never unsay words. Therefor, choose your words
wisely.

By all means, play with your words. Explore them! Be whimsical with words, dance with
them in the waning sunlight, splash through them in colourful rainboots, run them over
your body like the softest silk while giggling at the sensual secrets you conjure with
them. Make poetic leaps with them like so many mountain goats on a rocky crag, or float
gracefully to the clouds with them like Phileas Fogg in his hot air balloon taking 80 days
to circumnavigate the globe of your tender psyche.

But also, I entreat you, wield words wisely and with gracious compassion. Be aware with
your words. Do not use them as burning brand to mark me. Do not, callous in their usage,
bruise my spirit with your thoughtlessness. Think before your words become whips that
scar or chains that bind.

Instead, brush them soothingly over my fevered brow like a cool cloth on a hot day. Hold
them up as a gentle offering, an olive branch after a long wintry warring of the soul.
Wave them at me as a flag of truce. Cheer me on with them above the roar of the day.
Wrap your words around me softly. Rub them against my rain washed skin. Kiss me with
them until I can't breathe; my lips passion-bruised from gasping their joy to the world.

I like to run my tongue across the subtle textures of my words. I like to lap at them, to
lick luxuriously, to languorously linger on each arching syllable as I lave them in the
moonlight of my mind. I like to savor their softness, and sink my teeth into their flesh
until they whimper under the pressure and quietly beg for more.

Words hang in the ether like a beacon or a flaming cross, depending how they're
intentioned and how you wield them. Wield them wisely, whimsically, wishfully, but
never with cruelty or wastefulness. Wash daily in words and your spirit will glow with
the beautifying effects of a mind well cared for."

I have a love for words and in wording this I have found many loves. My soul speaks
truth.

Words matter. Never forget this.

Words matter.

June 7, 2010
Copyright Tanya Anguita

Saturday, June 27, 2015

Mermaid

In the Sea of Life,
there are those that fight the waves,
And those
that the waters
recognize
as their own.

Mermaid --

Singer of magic,
Weaver of dreams,
Font of laughter,
Community builder,
Kindness bringer,
Bastion of strength,
And speaker of truths --

YOU ,
Loved by so many,
glide and dance
With remarkable power,
Over the rippling water's edge,
And straight into
The loving arms of Poseidon.

He's been waiting for you,
You know,
With love in his heart.

And now
The Waves
caress your Beloved face,
welcoming you Home
After seeming eons
of waiting
For your
Sweet Return.

©Tanya Anguita