Before anyone says anything...I know I have to post the rest of my 30/30 stuff up. Don't worry, it will be here by the end of the week. Today, however, is a special occasion. Today I am helping Fiona Robyn celebrate the beautiful things in life, inspired by her new novel "The Most Beautiful Thing".

For today, Tuesday April 24, the Kindle version of the book is being offered for free. You don't need a Kindle to read it, just download the app on your phone or PC. You can also join a slew of bloggers like myself for the "My Most Beautiful Thing" Blogsplash. It's nothing complicated, just tell the world about your most beautiful thing through writing, photos, video...whatever way you want!

Since I am in the middle of the 30/30 challenge, I am going to write a prose poem for my most beautiful thing.

This is the year I choose to be lonely.

No more loose tongues on West 4th.
No more liquid courage to cure my ails.
No more late night texts buzzing in my ear.
No more pulling you into corners,
straining my eyes to find your light in the dark.

I cut off all ties from what ifs, if onlys, and semi-regrets.
I will not depend on you to fill the hours.
I won't look for your meaningless banter.
I will stand by myself on street corners and
wait for the sun to graze my cheek instead. 

I'll take long walks on Coney Island Avenue and
buy myself a bouquet of flowers for everyday you did not.
I'll pick up new habits, bury myself in new hobbies.

I'll take up knitting.

Search for every color you bruised my heart.
I'll stitch up bundles of soft yarn around
this discarded body you left a long time ago.
I'll warm up this plush heart, these yearning limbs
and point at myself in the mirror, whispering every day
"You need to sweat her."

I'll keep myself warm morning, noon, and night.

This is the year I choose to love me.

baby, i said hey.
baby, i said what a day!
you said baby, howare you?
i said boy, you have no clue.

This morning
     my soul told me: look
               to your roots, 
not at the heart.

Home will be tangled
            in your sheets again.

From tongue to eye, all rolled under cheek, poem lust is anywhere the skin is soft and the soul is sweet.

Momma said there'll be days like this,
It won't be the end of the world.
Tell that to my aching heart who shuffles 
back and forth to the tracks each morn to eve.
I constantly have to remember that trains go back and forth.
I got to go jump behind the wheel to move forward.

I used to start 5 A.M. shifts
in the shadows of their slumber.
Coffee black as night, soul sweet as sugar.
Now that my bones are a little weaker
and
my heart beats a little slower,
I rise with the sun
under the shuffling of 9 to 5ers.
Milk on my tongue, soul slouched,
I'll never have coffee in bed.
The sun is still shining.