Being single is bullshit

If I am romantically interested in you, then you probably, bout 90% of the time, fall into one of these 3 categories.

1. Married.
I don’t know what vibe married men and women are putting out that I seem to latch on too but really? What the fuck? I always check for the ring. Men, wear the damn ring. Married to a man, married to a woman, whatever just wear the damn ring. Stop me from doing something embarrassing. Help me out. Women, same bloody thing! The reasons are generally different for not wearing it. But I don’t want to flirt for an hour then ask you out after buying you drinks and your response is to slip the ring on. That’s not cool.

2. Not interested in cismale.
Maybe when at a bar known as a gay bar, populated by gay men, don’t be the guy that came with his girlfriend because you are a jealous asshole and didn’t want her to be hit on but still wanted a vodka cranberry.
Am I referring to a specific incident? Maybe.

Outside of that, just say not interested. Please, by the gods just say not interested. It is the least embarrassing. And straight dudes, don’t try to swing at me. It doesn’t happen often, but it doesn’t end well for you. So just don’t.

3. In a relationship.
Again just turn me down. Thanks but not interested. The quick easy let down.

There is a 4th category. The ones who are single, begin dating me then for whatever reason they go back to their ex. Ex boyfriend, ex girlfriend, ex husband, ex wife. I wouldn’t mention it but it’s become a trend.
Of those that tell me why, it seems to come down to, “I talk about love alot and that makes them think about love and the last time they felt that way and they start talking with the ex and the history comes rushing back.” That’s damn near a direct quote. From more than one person.

Slow steps

spin in madness
silk dancing on the wind
sweetened wine and drunken song
maddened revelry

music softening
slow circles
nose to nose
looking into eyes
intimacy amidst distraction

shortened pulses and wandering hands
lips in warmth and tasting
arms circled
in dances beginning

Give and take

There is nothing I can give you
And nothing I can take
A shadow long and burning
A moment ere I wake

But I am lost to dreaming
I am lost, it’s true
The dream is of my making
Of building more to you

I am softly waking
A moment I’m confused
Your warmth has long fled
This heart we built for two

On waking I am empty
A space too big to fill

Your heart is slightly broken
But I have seen much worse
I will patch you up
Be a Latticework

You will heal
And when you leave
I will be undone
but a little fuller too

I will hold the hope that wounded birds
Made whole and now to fly
Will remember that broken man
And visit time to time

And secret kept in heart of hearts
That one will wish to stay
The foolish hope that brings,
And holds the reckless
tears at bay

Emotional intimacy

In a very immediate way, physical intimacy is an outgrowth of emotional intimacy. I know that is backwards of how it usually works. And there was a time when I tried to embrace that. But it never really clicked for me.

It’s a high then a crash to nothing. Fun in the moment, but we(writers/poets) don’t live in the moment. We live in the vastness of our minds. Exploring our lives and emotions. Coming to the surface to give this found secret to the world.

If I am emotionally connected, then there is a moment in my lovers eyes, an echo of that discovery, of that perfect moment of vulnerability and hope that takes me beyond the shores of physical pleasure. To a place of the mind. Taking them with me into my heart.

Maybe that is scary. To think that way. Or be thought of that way. Fear, this kind of fear, has always been an indication that I am doing something right.

Afraid , emotional and vulnerable. Thinks too much, cares too much. Broken and mending. Practiced and fumbling.

I am all of these things. But, if I love you, it will always be so. And though we may be parted, I will always carry you, my love for you, in my heart.

Hard limit discussion

A hard limit is a line I won’t cross.  I won’t take without the consent of the taken.  Once given, I won’t betray my word.  I defend those I consider mine. 

I don’t like to be humiliated or insulted.  If I want something, I say what I want.  If the answer is no, that’s OK but I don’t beg. I don’t play the try harder that’s not enough game.  If something is needed or lacking, I expect to be asked for it or told in what way it is lacking. 

The games I play have a start and an end.  Which I will declare.  If I don’t say it is a game then it isn’t. 

A slow intake of breathe

I shall be a lie amidst truth
A heart too full for wanting
A silence too kind and twisting

Harsh breathe slipping in
Awake in the fullness
Filled with bursting
Tensions breaking
Not an ease but the wrecking
Pulled tight past bearing

Quiescent heart you were my reaping
My need a cold wind against burned skin
A balm and pain on pleasures raging edge.

The forbidden

These little games we say
Bound up
In shadow play

Words caught in mind
Scenes played out
In glances

Scent the air
With raw desire
Hands seconds from each other

Haunt my dreams
Stoke fires higher
Until a glimpse

Spills out
on the page
Wet rush

Sound of leather on skin
The soft crack
A sound stifled
By a bitten lip

Red and ginger
Sitting is the reminder
A void of remember

Just our words on the screen

Song for the day(may be a repeat)

This once held a video for an artists that turned out to be a predator. This person gave a bad name to the entire BDSM Community and I can no longer support him in any fashion. Really, I stopped supporting him a while ago but now I’m removing him from old posts.

Being stupid (maybe)

I think I read too much into a like or a comment. I read what is written and fall a bit in love with their words. I read their work and see an amazing person through their words. As a active writer and poet it is a real problem. Is what I am seeing real, is the pattern one with greater meaning? Or am I seeing things because I want to see them? I’ve gotten burned twice. One I walked into with eyes wide open knowing it would never work but wanting it more than sense.

The other I thought was real. Was something that might be something we were both looking for. The world stepped in, circumstances built and it ended, badly for me. I have no idea how she felt about it. Since, she walked away, blocked me out, seemingly without a second thought.

Now, I’m back in it. Seeing things that, maybe, aren’t true. But wanting it, and sort of dreading it at the same time. I have a bad track record.

Summer Rain

Raindrops like imperfections in glass
Looking out to faded grey sky
Light and patches drifting
She sits in the car next to me
Relaxed and leaning back
This woman I never talk to
Sharing this time
Always apart
Lacking even the courage to say hello
Or burst this fantasy that she shares this roof because looking at the sky is worth It
Worth the heat and the distance
She’ll exit her car, I’ll watch her walk away
Silent
Listening to summer rain.