may seem a little late but it’s appropriate
Song of the Day
may seem a little late but it’s appropriate
may seem a little late but it’s appropriate
I’m in the midst of a writing project. I am writing a poem which I write at the end of the day. What makes it a project is the form. Which is this: each day starting February 1st I write and on day 1 it’s a single word, day 2: 2 words, day 3: 3 words. Etc. I had planned on stopping at the end of the month but I wonder if I can make it a year. I will post at the end of the month. Both the complete and the by the day. It’s interesting because it’s not just the distilled moment that I normally write in, but is instead the slow accumulation and drift of my inner voice as the days themselves pass.
I am cismale and a Top(primarily). Sometimes it’s not my place to say what is what. But this says everything I want to say about this subject.
Submissive incongruency – http://wp.me/p4iUXa-sb
I dreamed of many things but primarily of a woman who would get caught in a world of words. Get lost in them. In the dream, I met her on a trip. It was the mountain dreamscape. A natural and wild area. I was camping and she was out in the wilderness and we shared a fire. It was cold, so we shared a chair next to the fire. Her snuggled in my lap. Her head against my heart.
The dream shifted to a woman telling a story about how she sometimes fell into a world where words would send her spinning. Where the words themselves become a world and she feels like she is fighting to get clear. To get home. And it’s like I’m riding along in her mind. I can see all of this, the fight and the journeys that take lifetimes and moments. That seems like pauses where she gets lost and is inattentive but really she is struggling with everything she has to get back.
Then I’m watching her give a talk about a book she’s written about the experience of her affliction and I find she has dedicated the book to me.
And the dream shifts and we’re in bed, my real bed complete with too many pillows and crimson sheets. And I turn to her and say, “Really? I really mean that much, help you that much that you want the world to know?”
She says, “of course, you keep me in the world. When you are here, I rarely slip away and rarely for long. And I remember that night on the ridge when you didn’t know me but you shared your fire and warmth.”
I say, “I love you, you are mine.” she smiles like I’ve given her the best news and we hold each other. Then I get up to get ready to go to work. But I’m waking from the dream and I don’t want to. I return to bed and hold her. She says, “I thought you were going to work.” I say, “I don’t want to leave here.” and I break and say “please, don’t leave me. Please, stay. Please.”
Then I wake completely. And she is gone. And I am crying.
It has been a while since I have been with anyone at this time of year. Mostly I’ve been alone. But I am with someone and she is amazing. But, I post things for her and write things for her. I record things for her. So how to make this special? How to differentiate from the poetry and song? Perhaps just speak plainly? As much as I am capable of doing so, anyway.
We started well. As friends. Getting to know each other through what we write. Hearing your thoughts on what I was working on at the time. (Split Sky)
And little by little I felt like I wanted more. To get to know you more and I vaguely worded it. And you said you wanted in. Just flooring me. That a vague post would prompt exactly the right person. For the blog world, what a delightful meet-cute. And further down the road was cut up and rocky but eventually you found your way back to my door. And my arms. You are mine, my goddess of my heart. I hold you there. Carry you with me. Dream of you. Things are difficult but I think promising.
We’ll get everything we want, if we can hold together.
I love you. Never doubt it.
For the less Operatically inclined
Let me wrap you in my embrace
Tell me what you think/want/hope
I’ll show you my flaws and hope you don’t run
Show me your scars
I’ll kiss every one.
Like strangers or just strange
Foreigners even to our selves
Let us travel
And discover each other
We are not bound by convention
Why proceed conventionally
Break with our mundane reality
Let us know each other and be reborn
Or forego the metaphysics
and kiss me