Valentine’s Day 31

My loves sit at the dining room table talking in low tones and dipping chocolate chip cookies in milk. Tara giggles and loses half her cookie to the glass. Soaked through it breaks. She uses a dry one to fetch the pieces out. Sara brushes a strand of purple hair from Tara’s eyes, tucking it behind her ear. I finish putting the dishes in the washer and start to clean the counter. Making work for myself to allow Sara to work her magic.

After a few minutes the cookies are gone, wife and lover are lounging content as cats, and the dishwasher chugs away.

“My love.” I say, “Let’s get ready for bed. You two can use the shower first.”

Sara looks knowingly at me. Her wise grey eyes carrying a sad smile. She holds her hand out to Tara, who grips her and bounces up out of the chair.

My girls disappear into the bedroom and moments later I hear the shower turn on.

I pad over to the bedroom. Snagging the remote to the house sound system, I put on the soft sounds of summer rain. The hiss and patter fills the room displacing the empty silence.

I remove the sheets and change them for a fresh set. Soft silk replaced with warm cotton.

I retrieve Mr. Fox from Tara’s side of the bed and position the bear to be watching and waiting when the girls emerge.

The girls emerge from the shower in a billow of steam and seeing Mr. Fox, Tara snatches him up and spins around with him in her arms.

Sara smiles, tired eyes lighting with soft joy, for a moment the missteps of the night forgotten.

I can’t see this anymore. Maybe that makes me weak but I can’t take credit for joy when I’ve brought us so close to disaster. I walk into the washroom and start the shower. I carefully peel off the bandage covering my dick and see the blood spots.
This is going to suck. I lather up and gently wash all over. I take extra gentle care of my wounds. This sidelines me from many of our daily routines. My mistakes compound and pay dividends I would have preferred were less.

Sluicing down the suds, I stand for a minute in the pounding streams. I let the jets massage away some of the tension and the air grows thick and hot.
Unable to take more, I step out. The shower jets shutting down ten seconds after no bodies are sensed in the stall. I throw on my robe and stand at the mirror. I force myself to take five deep breathes, holding each for three seconds before I floss and brush my teeth. I reapply a bandage on my cock and pull on underwear to keep it from brushing against anything in its raw state.

I walk into the bedroom and the air is chilly compared to the stifling heat of the bathroom. Tara is curled up against Sara. Already asleep. Sara is in the middle of the bed and I slip in behind her.

Soft moonlight filters through the gauze curtains. The sounds of rain pours through the speakers. The fresh scent of clean hair fills my nostrils. The heat of Sara as little spoon warms me and on any other night, I’d slip deeply into dreams.

But tonight, I fear sleep will be a long time coming.

Comfortablely cursed

Life is an amazingly stupid and puzzling place. When we aren’t just trying to survive, we are held back by our pasts and stuck on stutter concerning our futures. We hear what people think about us but don’t really listen to what they are saying. We second guess our desires and dreams and try for the more practical path.

Fuck. I’m no exception to all of this. My past haunts me. People state things all the time but I don’t let them influence me. Both bad and good.

But damn, we need to all just admit to ourselves at least that retreading old paths doesn’t work. Comfort is a luxury, yes. But it’s also a trap. We stay in our bubbles of comfort and when some possibility of something we’ve always wanted presents itself we weigh the possibility of achievement against the possible loss of comfort.

And I understand. I get it. Comfort is comfortable. But ask yourself, am I going to regret not doing this? Not taking this chance? Not taking this action?

Believe me. The actions you take can lead to horrible consequences. But the things that keep you up at night. The things that truly haunt you. They are mostly tied to the actions you don’t take. The path that you wanted more than anything but allowed yourself to be dissuaded by comfort. By good enough.

No one wants to be the one who holds you back. Unless they are selfish assholes who only have their own self interest. Which is most people. I’ve been told that I’m weird in this regard.

In regards to myself, I have as hard a time as anyone with this. With the exception that I’ve structured my life to not allow me to hide. And because of how my mind functions, I can get away with that.

But in regards to my people, I have no issue with sacrifice for them. I get alot back from the people who I consider mine. All wonderful people. But I try to give as good as I get and would sacrifice for them. Because, that’s what being someone like me is all about. We take care of our people.

I’ve wandered a bit off topic.
We need to take the risk that defines us.
For me, that means working towards the goal of being with the people who are in my heart. And one person in particular.

For others it’s something else. But find that something, work towards it,and never settle for merely comfortable when all you desire could be right there at the next step.

Bittersweet Joy

A tension in the sussura,
Murmurs, Conversations in the quiet
Too low to be heard too loud to be ignored
Proud but not confident

Sing to me of inhibition
Of choices not taken
Chances not chanced and hopes not hoped
Breathe me in your minutes

Borne of the differences,
Joy in the turning
Song threads
Piercing, hollow, hallowed heart

Sing to me of beginnings
Of songs ending
Of the quiet

Sing and in silence
Lost voice
Lost dream in the turning