Author: Pelgris

Friendzoning

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I know there is a bunch of controversy surrounding this word.  Let me explain my definition.

Friendzoning is about someone deliberately stringing people along with the full knowledge that they have no intention of pursuing a romantic relationship while playing at the possibility that there might be one.
It is not about desiring sex and being denied it because the relationship between them is friendship.
If an individual cannot maintain the emotional distance required by friendship Eg not letting it spill over into desire, then it behooves the person to be honest and tell the one who wants friendship only that they desire a romantic relationship and would persue friendship only if it leads to such.
Some people are destined to only be friends.  But others you may feel romantically inclined to.  If you cannot shift the romantic interest into agapic entanglement then you owe it to yourself and the person to be honest about your intentions.  If you are and they don’t feel the same way then walk away.  Staying can only be damaging. Maybe some distance will change your mind.
Back to my main point, friendzone.
To me friendzoning is a deliberate manipulation, it means that the Desired is stringing along the desiree with the possibility of a romantic relationship in order to fulfill their own emotional or material needs without consideration of the emotional wellbeing of the desiree.  This is not actual friendship.  This is borderline sociopathic behavior.

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I breathe you in, faint floral over something else that quickens my heart,
lips trailing your neck, breathe hot and pooling in the curve between neck and shoulder; fingers lightly brushing skin

…..

dreams persist though possibilities end

Love

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You ever wish you could start a conversation over? Wish you could be more witty, more charming? Unfortunately, there is no going back.

There are people out there in the world right now who, if you met them and said just the right thing, would change your life forever. Would be a catalyst for change in your life that catapults you forward. There are people walking around right now who would be the love of your life, igniting a passion that will spark epiphany. But time and chance shake us all.

The right person at the wrong time. The right person, right time, wrong thing to say. And what happens when you meet someone who is all of this, what happens when you can’t hold on to them. Maybe we all need to be a little less jaded, a little more accepting. Embrace our frailties, our flawed hearts.

We bind our love to desire, to ambition, to politics, to what we wear, how we talk. So many caveats and criteria that we kill the soil in which love might flourish. Perhaps we need to till the soil, start again. Accept your flaws, their flaws, our flaws. Love with your whole self, hold nothing back.

You’ll be destroyed, again and again. I know. I’ve been there. But any way else is the slow strangling death of hope. And that, that I will not accept.

Chivalry vs Honor

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I’ve just realized why people call me chivalrous. I’m a romantic. I see and talk about beauty. If someone I’m romantically interested in puts themselves down I assure them that this is not the case even if only to me.

If whomever I’m with is open to it, then I’ll write them poetry, open doors, insist that me paying is my honor. I’ll keep my word, if I give it. I’ll strive to be worthy of them as I hope they strive to be worthy of me.

It’s not chivalry, or if it is, it is the kind that comes from within. It is honor. Is honor so rare it cannot be recognized? Except as a fairy tale ideal? A person who is chivalrous is a shining ideal. I’m no one’s shiny ideal. Honor is a daily struggle in the blood and muck. Sometimes I fail. But I pick myself up and continue on. Chivalry is a fairytale. Honor is as real as you allow it to be.

It’s confusing here. Where? Life.

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a kiss of the lips fills me with sick dread
while the kiss of the lash fills me with anticipation;
the stroke of the skin is so divorced from my reality that it freezes me in place;
while the flick of my wrist bringing down the riders crop on skin
the slap and the vibration of a well placed blow makes me shiver in delight
tie me up, tie you down
This vanilla life is so uncertain
I’m not practiced at it
it makes me feel inept, unsure
All the while other skills are rotting on the vine;
And yet I am afraid of falling into the life again
It feels like a step back, like it served its purpose when I was numb and while I enjoy it occasionally or as dirty talk, I don’t want it as my world. It feels like that world either consumes you or your out of it and I’m not sure where I stand with either; On the one hand, it always excites me, on the other I want love not pain mingled with lust.

Dancing

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I’m dancing on the beach. Beneath a sun drenched sky.
I woke with the dawn and walked the block to the the beach. It’s cool but the day is slowly warming. The sun is rising, it is like a sound rushing over the world. A harmony only I am listening to. But instead of wallowing in the loneliness, I soak in the quiet and the light. I begin to dance. Slowly at first, the morning joggers avoid my path. I begin to hum, then sing, I am exultant in the light. This moment, this moment, this moment. One minute to the next, beautiful.

Mourning

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You want to make me feel better? Provide me with someone I can murder. Some scumbag tied to a chair. Pleading to b let go, pleading but I’m not moved. I’ll pull out my blade and carve out my pain. Listen to his screams, listen as he crys until he knows my pain. Until we are brothers in pain. Until he begs for death. Yes my brother, I’ll grant you the cessation of pain that I cannot have. The blade Slipping underneath the sternum. Into your heart. As you die, I am empty.

What I want from a romantic relationship

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I want all of you
Not just your body
All of you
Your mind, so delicious and a little(or alot) twisted
Your humor, your laughter
Your good times
Your bad
A drink shared in sorrow
And one raised in joy
I want that look in your eyes that says I am yours
I want your blush when I’ve said something wicked
Your anger when I’ve taken it too far
Your hobbies I learn to tolerate and some that I love
Your quirks that seemed cute in the beginning and drive me mad now
I want you to be confident, in me, if nothing else
I want you to be home when you’re ready
And for me to be that home
I want all that you are
And I want you to want all that I am

Untitled song

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Across the street, waiting for the train
I spotted you, all unaware
Staring to the middle distance

Forgive me my trespass
your solemn gaze, I find you too beautiful to share.

My sugar rush, and jagged gasp
Embracing crush, a bitter kiss
Forgive me my trespass.
You’re too beautiful to share
…
…
A Crooked road warbling away
A twisting turn brings me back to you
Staring to the middle distance,

Your solemn gaze, my sugar rush
I spotted you waiting for the train.

Cubicle 6

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His warm,  softness entered me.  Filling me, pushing heat radiating through and out into the night. Each thrust pulling a startled cry.  I clung to him, legs wrapped around his muscled thighs. 
I float lost, each stroke touching me deep and, like a live wire, grounding me.  I feel it building,  deep in my chest, a scream to drown out the world.  His soft firm lips find mine, tongue sliding over tongue matching the pulse of him.  His fingers, working a magic I can barely sense right at the ragged edge. 
It rushes across me sudden, the power bowing me back, pulling me from his embrace.  The cold night wind mixing with the sharp spiked pleasure.  More, more don’t let it stop.  I don’t know if I spoke aloud but he started pounding into me, like those first gentle minutes were someone else.  Hard, one, two, pause, three, pause, his cock deep inside, pause.  He repeats, he varies. 
I’m soon lost to the artistry of it.  Waves of red pleasure take me. His warmth spills into me wet and knowing. My eyes open looking deep into his blue eyes burning with the knowledge that I am his.  My heart leaps up. I pull him back down. My mouth devouring him. He pulls back.  Eyes holding me, Michael pulls out a silk handkerchief, he pushes into, cleaning me up as his warm cum spills across the hood of his Mercedes.