The worst feeling in the world is not knowing, it is unfortunately also the best. When we don’t know we can choose to believe that everything is OK, that the reason we don’t know is something funny or slightly disappointing like their phone is dead or some other small thing.

But there is the flip side, that we don’t know because someone, most grievously, the person we are waiting to hear from has chosen to not tell us. But, it could be worse. Perhaps they are restrained from telling or perhaps they are dead.

Not knowing, due to my nature, is always balanced on the razors edge. The edge where both the worst and best are possible. That until we check the box, we can’t know the state of the cat.

Worse in this case because not knowing where, I cannot even begin to find out. Its like finding a specific needle in a drawer full of needles.

Slow passage of time

Pain blooms in nerve endings
in joints
pressure and sensation
unfolding out
dance slow cheek to cheek
ephemeral sensation birthing fires that bring heat to flesh
lips press in
half parted
first taste hinting strawberry
memories wander
notes bursting out of skin
breaking free to sing
pulse quickens
arms encircle
hold as in in mind

Wax and wane

There are days where I do not write of sensuality. Days where nary a tit or skin or lips are mentioned. It is on those days that I am so consumed by the thought of you that I cannot form coherent sentences. Instead, I dream of touching and being touched. Of spanking and tying you to our bed. Of tasting and licking until you writhe and beg me to cum. It is not that on days I write, I want you any less. Merely that on those days I am more in control.

My advice

My advice for those looking for certainty where love is concerned. To those that say it’s better to be silent and pine for the possible than to speak and know the truth.

If no one speaks up, you have people never knowing that the feeling is there; they can’t know if you don’t say something. If everyone sits around mute, hoping for some sign that will never come then love no matter how passionately felt comes to nothing and love coming to nothing is a tragedy. There is always the possibility of a negative outcome. And if it turns out that way then learn from it, pick up your heart and move up, move on. There is no “the one”. This person you love now is “the one”. Because “the one” is like finding that thing you lost in the last place you looked. Of course it was in the last place, you didn’t need to keep looking. Don’t allow fear of the fallout to drive you to silence.

Goddess of my Heart, you were in the last place I looked. No need to look further.  I’ve found you.

State of the Union

In my bright eyed youth, I was a less than good person. I did things. Profitable morally questionable things. But I’ve never been one for morals. Ethics and honor, sure, but common morality never held my interest.

But even that ended and when my interest in the lifestyle if not the money began to wane, Morgan found me drinking a rum and coke at a club. She took me back to her place and we fucked. It wasn’t making love or anything controlled. It was pure animal need. But for some reason I felt drawn to her. So it wasn’t just sex, it was something else.

But I didn’t think that at the time. I kept going back to her and I always told myself it was just sex. Until it became evident it wasn’t. You can only spend so many nights holding each other and talking before you are forced to acknowledge that you just want to be with them. Morgan had an interest in Dominance and Submission, and in pain. In BDSM parlance she was a pain slut. It is not an insult. She gloried in it.

I became her top and over the course of a year or so, her Sir. It had gotten to the point where I could see spending my life with her. Until that September morning that took her from me. You can read about that elsewhere.

So I had become a Dominant. And in controlling others in that context had found a measure of peace. But with Morgan’s death came a bleak sadness that would persist for years. The anger and sadness made me a dangerous top and I came right to the edge of control a few times. In those years, I hooked up with an old friend from my life pre-Morgan.

Eric began pulling me out of the darkness. And through his love, I found the strength to keep going. I also found that being a top was not all that I was. With Eric, I felt safe. I didn’t want to be in control all the time and with him I learned Submission. We were happy for a time but he was unwilling to stay in one place and wanted a 24/7 Sub. Which I am not. I finally asked if he would stay with me. He wasn’t and we parted.

So I wasn’t a full time Dominant and I wasn’t a full time Submissive, so what was I? Was it just play to me? No, I enjoy the psychological aspects too much for it to be just play. So after some research and searching my heart, I find myself a Switch. And that fits comfortably. But I also found that play relationships and even long-term sub or dom relationships were not wholly what I wanted.

So what did I want. What was missing? That’s right. The thing I denied with Morgan, and that which I wanted but never fully realized with Eric. Love. And all that entails. So began my search and I thought I found it several times and each time I was wrong. Then all unaware, writing my poetry and stories, a heart was reading and opening. Scattered comments and likes and this person was always on my mind. I am and was disappointed when they wouldn’t comment but would like what I wrote. I always want to know why, why something is liked.

And when she would comment it was like a sunburst. And I knew, I was falling in love. I started really paying attention and at the last confessed the state of my emotions and very much to my surprise found my affection returned. So after years of searching, she found me. Like lightning from a clear blue sky. I don’t know what the future holds, can’t know it.

But Goddess of my heart, I love you. It has been a long journey and now that we’ve found each other I am profoundly grateful to whatever gods or spirits intervened, if any did. Or just the spinning chance of the cosmic wheel. In any case, my Cha’trez, you have me. All that I was, all that I am, until the stars burn out in the sky. Until the universe collapses, and even then my love for you will exist.