Use It.

I guess normally I'd tell you to be you and I'd say it in some profound way.

But here is the thing. It's okay to have people you wanna be like.

To have little things that you copy. Some pieces to keep for yourself.

Because at the end of the day you can only hold so much in your fists.
It's a small limit that fills fast and if you drink up too much of others, all of you will start to flow out.

We can only be so much and closure doesn't always comes. 

We crave it, but closure is a liar's poem, always looked for but never read out loud.
You have to lick your own wounds and sew them up with your own needle and thread.
And it's painful, I know.
We don't always get back some of the good we give out.
And every now and then we'll pour all of our love into someone who doesn't deserve it.
I guess sometimes we just have to peel ourselves off the dirt and give ourselves some credit.

You're not ruined. No matter how convinced you might be that you are, you're not.
You are what you touch, the emotions you feel, the sights you see. You are the warm blood in your veins and the words out of your mouth. You are every little nerve that makes up your body. You're as beautiful as any sunset that kissed the sky. You're the pain you feel, the love you give. You are your own miracle. 

Use it.

XoXo, Gussie

The way we used to be.

I can feel it hitting me. This time of year always creeps up with old memories on its coattail. The leaves and cold, the frost on the windshield, they have stories.

Like an old denim jacket, my collar cuffed up and the radio cranked.
We had our heads thrown back laughing like nothing could ever bring us down.
You were telling me tall tales with the brightest light in your eyes.
Cause we were close but our hearts were closer.
We had roping gloves falling out of the jockey box and coffee cups all over the truck.
It was late night drives out by the lake.
Our cold hands would throw a saddle over a hump-backed colt and we would smile over at each other with grins that damn near said 'it's about to go down.'
The sunsets glared at us sitting on tailgates watching them sink.
We were crying laughing at our own stupid jokes, throwing dirt clods across the barn.
Jumping train tracks in old trucks like we were cool or something.
We were holding each others hands telling ourselves it would be okay.
Deep down we knew it'd all work out someday, we had so much faith.
I can see us when I close my eyes.
Standing in parking lots with roper shoes on our feet and wild rags around our necks and we were grinning bitching about the cold.
You were so loud and it made me loud and we had the windows down in freezing cold weather.
Our cheeks stayed rosy red and our lips were as icy as our fingertips.
I remember the way your face would get dark when you were mad and how you sull up.
I always wanted to laugh cause you would come around so fast.
Your hair was messy under your hat and you were the fearless that I tried to be.

I wanna feel the way we felt; on fire.
I wanna be cold and stiff in the morning the way we used to be.

      Xoxo, Gussie

Fell in love.

I fell in love with the pain and the changing. I loved the high strung spirit. It called to mine, birds of a feather you know. I guess that's why I always kind of knew in the back of my mind that you couldn't stay. I fell in love with cold fingers intertwined. I fell in love with the thought, it all looked so good on paper. I liked the way the sunrise looked in the reflection of your eyes. I loved the feel of colts beneath me and how sweat stained our hats. I fell in love with late nights and long phone calls. But I only fell in love with the idea of it all. I've wiped tears with tail bags left on truck seats and it's the nights that kill me. But I like the way this old hat sits on my head and I feel at home on that same old horse. He nickers low and I can feel it breaking straight through to my soul. I love the way the wind tangles in my hair and how my cheeks turn red in the cold. I like deep breathes in my lungs. And I'm moving on I guess. I'm cold and shivering and nervous, but that's how life goes. There's more out there than you think, more than you could probably dream. But it'll only come if you believe and that's the hardest damned thing. Your shaking hands aren't broken, your tears aren't worthless. You're alright. And if I'm being straight with you, this is more for me. Like some written proof that the world keeps turning even when things aren't how you want it to be. It'll all come around and you get what you put out in the world. I hope you wake up to a cold morning and have a steaming cup of coffee.
Feel it. Feel it all. Suck it in. Let it seep into your skin, your soul, your heart.

Goodnight now.

XoXo, Gussie

Words for ya.

I burned out on George Strait at 18 years old, got hooked on Red Dirt music a couple years ago. I like the outside kind of scars, the ones that are an off color from my skin. The inside kind aren't as pretty. They don't heal as good either, or fast. My hair is growing slow, but one day it'll be braided clear down my back. I have green eyes whose tear ducts need to open less often. I'm always cold in the winter and burnin up in the summer. Real world struggles yo. I probably cuss too much. I decided that it's a rough world out there and sometimes rough things need to be said. My heart is stitched to the fabric down my arm. I really need to cut those threads and bury it deep in my chest. But I've never been good at holding back I guess. I wonder if you know what I mean sometimes in these ramblings, I wonder if you feel the same vibes. And don't you roll your eyes at me, cause all of the vibrant souls have a little inner hippy, so here's some good energy for ya. There's a lot of pain out there and I keep telling you how tough you are but just cause you're tough doesn't mean you won't hurt. Blisters before calluses remember? And blood before scabs. I'm either too blunt or too vague. My mind is always scrambling, stuck somewhere between spilling my every thought out or choking up and keeping it all in. Trust me, either one is an ordeal. I have a temper that I hope you never experience and when I'm hurting I shut off. There was a time when all I wanted was just to keep up with the boys, now I want to beat 'em with a fence post on occasion but for some reason still love most of them. I have a little white scar below my left eye and one on my lip. I didn't pick up a rope till I was 13 years old, hated roping until I was about 17. I like the feel of creeks on my fingers and moccasins on my feet. I've seen a lot of ugly things. But nobody saw them through my eyes and that's something to cling to. Because there's times when you won't be anything extraordinary, you'll feel far below it. But nobody will ever be able to mimic your vision and that is a little gift from God. I burned out on Nickelback at 17 years old, got hooked on The Outfield about 10 months ago. So there's all that out there, raw and bloody.

Xoxo, Gussie

Fall is coming on.

Can you feel the cold chilling your fingertips and fall wrapping around you?

The way it bites at your cheeks and tangles in your hair.

Can you hear it whispering through the willow trees down by the creek?

And see snow dusting the peaks? 

Like old lovers reuniting, missing each other all summer long. 

Is the cold air stinging your warm lungs, can you feel the change in your heart?

Does it feel like home?

Look at the shaggy coats on the ponies.

They were all slick as seals in the summer heat and their tallow thinning with use.

But they are beefing up for the winter now and getting all sassy in the brisk mornings.

Doesn't it feel so good to have a stingy horse wriggling beneath you?

Winter is coming on and I can feel it in my bones, no more careless jumping off of panels cause that cold feeling has coming shocking up our legs already. 

Are you pulling your wool caps off the rack and smashing your unruly hair down with felt instead of straw? 

Do you have thicker hides of leather wrapping your legs?

I hope you've felt how I have.

When you swing a leg over a frisky colt in cold weather and your gut turns a little.

You look over at your sissy and grin through your chattering teeth and a lipstick smile.

She's doing the same. 

And there's two braids blowing in the frosty breeze. 

Your collars are popped and wild rags knotted around your necks, cotton gloves on your hands holding mecate reins. 

With the wind making your mascara'ed eyes water and your nose and cheeks flushed pink. 

I hope you watch the sunrise between your favorite horse's ears and I hope someday you get him in the bridle and that every ounce of sweat you put into him was worth it to you. 

With your shivering body I hope you warm up trotting out over big country and I want you to feel the ups and downs in the splay of land. 

I hope you feel the conflict in yourself that I have and that you feel a horse coil up beneath you walking on eggshells. 

And by the end of the day I hope he's all sensitive and broke feeling and that you're not sore.

But I hope you're tired, the good exhausted.

Go sit by the fire place and have another cup of coffee. 

I wish that for you. 

Fall is coming on. 

Loves, Gussie Lou

Good Morning Desert

Good morning desert, whisper something to me. Sing a lullaby and tell me your secrets. Or tell me lies and stories that are stowed away in your gullies. Burn me with the sun rising over your mountain tops because to burn is to feel and to feel is to be alive. Every little pinprick of pain like a reminder that I'm sensitive and vulnerable. Rain pounding on my skin, heart on my sleeve. Muddy streams tracing the edges of my boots. Spur rowels whispering low in the morning singing the song we've heard so long. The one that called all of us here in the first place, the one that sings to our souls instead of our ears. Reminding us what we were born for and leading us quiet and strong further away from the world. Because we felt it once, now we crave it. The scenes play out in our dreams, our hearts feel it even then. We're standing with sage and dust around us, a horse between our knees and hearts pounding fiercely from our rib cages. Finally we feel alive, vibrating with energy and emotion. Inside there's a spirit passed down through generations and it's swelling. The goosebumps on our arms, Levi jackets, collars popped. The feeling of chills in the morning and sweat by noon. Tying the new age cowboy to the old, doing the same job with just a few more fences. I look up at dark clouds and let it fold around me. Can you hear the raindrops splattering on my hat brim? It hits loud like a homey tune that quiets the soul and horses snort at quick streams, breathing heavy off the hillside. Long trot in mud and sleep short nights, it's good at being bad for us. All for sanity. I pray you stay busy and your hands stay sore.
Hugs, Gussie

I hope you've felt alive...

I hope you woke up early and drank a hot cup of coffee. I hope you watched the sunrise over whatever landscape plays out in front of you. I dreamed last night that I could only live one year of my life and it dawned on me that the year that I would want to live was this one. I've felt real pain, real love; how it is all gorgeous and jaw dropping, puts butterflies in your stomach and finally just over. I've felt horses ball up beneath my weight and quiver with strength. I've climbed up to heights just to look down and I've laughed when I've fallen. I hope you've felt alive and seen your fingers trembling. I hope you're not afraid. Because it's all so beautiful and so flawless. I hope you crave the sun on your skin and the wind chilling your arms. I hope you know what it's like to feel unpredictable. To know that there is no way of knowing how you feel. Let that sink in because you'll know when you need to. Until then there is plenty of time to just be; and feel. Time will show that letting go isn't what it seems or what it should be. You can't just open your fist and watch the wind carry the pain away on its wings. And your tears, they stay on the surface begging for a memory to let them free fall. But they'll slip off your cheeks and fade and seep back into the earth that they came from. It's hard tho because the heart that throbs deep in your chest is not wise. It gives love to characters not fit for it and your heart strings tie ridiculous knots. Don't worry, you're strong and your spirit is vibrant. Go sit next to a river. I promise you'll love it. Or go lay on a mountain top and breathe deep breathes. The world is not about the pain we feel. It's about the heart we leave in the pieces we touch and the smiles we give to sorrowful souls. It's about the strength we build and the lessons learned. You are strong and you are different but you are not wrong. Remember that. Sometimes you'll make poor choices and sometimes you'll hurt but there's a rainbow after the rain. 

Xoxo, Gussie