Vlor and Via: Vior . You are always safe and welcome in my arms. Remember when you wake and find me. I have no judgment for how you live your lives, I welcome you as you are.
Thoughts
Bone Weary
I’m tired of writing about my heart broken, about loneliness and desire unrequited. Even more tired of experiencing it. Anyone who tells you it is better to have loved and lost is a liar. Better to not know loves perfect ache than to miss its presence. But having felt it I cannot make the choice to live light or to delude myself that I’m not looking and so be caught unawares. What people mean when they say something happens when you stop looking. I’ll never stop looking but I’ll also never stop wishing I knew how. I wish I knew what I am doing wrong, what I’m doing right? Are the right people in my past or does the future hold a chance? Should I step sideways, walk away from this world and on to the next? Have the chances of this world so thinned that another would suit better. I am uncertain.
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The search
I wish to delight in someone delighted to be in my arms. To smile at someone and know they smile back, not out of politeness, but instead from genuine affection. I’m bone weary. Ground down from looking for you.
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Dream
I lost last nights dream. The only bit I take away is the name of someone important. Rebecca, Rebehka. I remember it sounds like the first but has a different spelling. I don’t know anyone named that or any variation of that. So, someone I’ve yet to meet? I wish I could remember why they are important.
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Hold me?
I still love every one I have ever loved. I now say I care instead of I love. But this is just a safeguard. A check to maintain the status qo. It is merely that the pain of those lost to me is piled on top of the mountain of pain that I live upon. And each new pain begins to spin out, to cover what came before, in a thin layer that is endurable. How can I expect to find someone who will love me if I cannot let go my pain. Am I getting better or merely becoming better at deluding myself. So many nights and days I don’t want sex, I just want to be held. But, I’ll term it as sex because that is seemingly more socially acceptable than to admit to this weakness. This need for connection.
That is a male problem. We’re not allowed to seem weak. I can get away with crying in public, with being emotional and many other things because I am seen as strong. Unassailable, but vulnerability, that is too far. And truthfully I don’t care what others think, but social mores make things difficult. This is all cold detachment. An effort to bring myself back under control as, as I write this, tears stream down my face. So overcome am I that tears are my only outlet. I want my Morgan back. I want to hold Eric one last time. I want what cannot be.
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How I realize
How I realize I still care for someone? When I see the person that they are with and I think, if that fucker hurts you I will slice them open and dance in their blood.
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Back pain?
My right back shoulder blade is in an immense amount of pain. I was losing my mind from it but then examined it and realized that it is right at the edge of my green zone and now I’m good. Weird how just a shift in mindset changes everything.
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Running out of titles
I am alone. And so poems and stories about lust make me feel connected. Like if someone thinks ‘hmm, that sounds lovely’ I am less alone. But I still wake, without someone in my arms. This is my fault of course. If I wanted to wake up beside someone, I could find a companion for the night. If I relaxed my criteria. If one night was all I wanted. I long for what I once had. But perhaps it was a once in a lifetime. Perhaps we were shooting stars racing to find which would flare out first. I’m tired of sifting sand, looking for the pearl. Perhaps I should reconcile to the fact that the type of person I desire will always be with someone else. They are too beautiful to not have found there hearts companion. I had my chance. It’s over.
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Lust fades to memories
I would give voice to other than lust but find, in these haunting seconds twixt witching moon and the long dark, find my heart empty. Or not empty, but rather ravaged by flames that course through, burning out all thought but you. You, spread inviting on my crimson bed. You, legs pressed around me, back against the wall. You, pale ass tantalizing and taunting. You, riding, your eyes black with desire. My face buried in you, your hands in my hair. Your moans, your shudders. Your pleasure bound at the end of my tongue.
But you are far away from me, We are long lost to each other and I am alone. Sitting in the pale light of approaching dawn.
My Morgan. My Morrigan.
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Dream lover
I keep dreaming, and in my dreams you find me. And sometimes I screw up and you go away. And sometimes I screw up and you give me another chance.
Sometimes you betray me, and I want to stick to my principles and walk away. Sometimes I do and my life crumbles like a mansion built on the side of a hill in a mudslide. Sometimes I walk and it adds to the weight of loss I already carry. Sometimes, I forgive you but the relationship is never the same.
Sometimes we forgive each other and are stronger for it. Sometimes we make it work, a lifetime of joy and hardships, lived out in the span of a night.
Each time I wake enough in the dream I send out, recklessly, where I am. What I look like. Hoping you are a dreamwalker too and that you’ll remember and find me or when I find you, you will see me and think that’s the guy. The one I dream about. Maybe it’s foolish or crazy to believe in magic and this idea.
Maybe, but what if we are looking for each other and this is the avenue open to us? I’ll take it, if I can find you. And if I don’t, we don’t, then the lifetimes we live in dreams will have to be enough. I’ll meet you there my sweet dream.
Pelgris 