The past speaks and shapes

Could be the light but I shine too narrow
only to the few do I burn
all else know me for darkness
bit and piece, all slip shadow
one to hold, one to kiss, one to love
Or arm in arm strike pose
But know me for a thieves lantern
Hooded and focused
Spilling not wide but focused
And each to each
One moment in sorrow and another
Spend joy
Spinning between grace and oblivion
Consumed by swift and sweet
Heart slows
Beats pound and breath comes languid
Hold you tight
But watch you slip free my grasp
These faultlines
Taste terrible freedom
Better to dream
Than live in forever
In your normal life

Valentine’s day 14 – Sara’s voice

I would have told Pel it was too soon had he bothered to ask me. I don’t disapprove and we had discussed it but I didn’t think he would be this rash. But of course he would.

I don’t know why I thought this time it’d be different. He takes awhile to work himself up to something but once he does, he commits to it fully. And there was never a stupidly romantic gesture that he could ever pass up.

Collared and married on the same day makes for a great story but Tara had to be overwhelmed. After we assured her that we both wanted this, she settled down. However, her nature is skittish as a colt.

Pel doesn’t realize that she is a true submissive. I’m sub behind the bedroom door. I am a proud pain slut but our 24/7 is all scene oriented. Tara needs to please her master and surprises throw her off. She’s thinking, what did she miss, what mistake did I make.

Pel knows about her abuse. He knows how to help her through that. How to treat her but he’s never had a true 24/7 Submissive. He’s lucky I’m here to help him. Cause he’d be at a loss. She’s sitting on his lap listening to him tell her a story. I imagine it’s something lascivious. And I hear the soft tinkle of her giggle.

I look over and see Pel looking at me. Knowingly, like he’s reading a book of my thoughts. He smiles and say “It’ll be OK, my brightest day.”

How does he fucking do that!
I reply, “Yes, my darkest night.” As protocol demands. Damn the man, he’s infuriating.
And he’s mine, mine, mine, I think as the grin breaks across my face.

The speaker is someone new. Tall and swarthy, kinda smarmy. Dark and cute but slimy. I don’t think he belongs here. We are protocol oriented and safety conscious.

Practically speaking, I think Pel uses this group to Vet potential masters before releasing them out into the wild. Tara’s former master is not abnormal. This lifestyle draws predators like flies to watermelon. I don’t think Pel appreciates their “interference” as he calls it.

He’s so feudal minded. He considers his territory to be inviolate and anyone that threatens that he removes. If I didn’t know that he took protecting us so seriously, that he did it from a place of love and trust, I’d think him a specialized serial killer. Looking for prey. But the community IS better for it. In a real way, our community needs policing as much as any society.

What I want more than anything

What I want more than anything is you.
Have we met?
Am I waiting for you or you for me?
If you know, tell me. I dislike waiting.
I’m looking but not looking.
Not seeking but open.
Not persuing, except in dreams, and how to tell one dream from reality.
I can feel you in the world or is that my heart beating, resonating to a frequency you feel as shivers down your spine?
Have we spoken and I or you said something in our head which, if said aloud would have made all the difference?
Is it better to speak as if there is no tomorrow that matters excepting those seconds that pass while in your heart?
This eyeless sense of love moves me like a blind cave fish seeking warmth.
Or am I merely deluded, and is the delusion that love exists and waits for a word mere delusion or a hope?
And is a hope better than the truth of lonely nights?

Minutes, wind and wistful

Heat slips into veins
Heart beating in time with the trickle pulse
Of desulatory wind
Welcome arms as old lovers
Embrace to catch the sun

Light shivers and moans
Bare skin burn
Thrust hopeful into embrace of day

Foreknowledge speaks the coming night
Tears break ranks
Falling to the thirsty earth

Moon and stars rise
High waters drown the light
And I
Forgotten
Sleep
Bereft of touch

What’s born in darkness sometimes finds the light

Bathe me in the glimmering dark
A breath
Away
From death

Sing me your praises of fallen nights
A drink
Away
From drowning

Kiss me your kindness
A dance
Away
From waking

These dreams I’ve lost to living
These words rasp out a life
Trouble chase but I’m not running
I’ll wield the blade of strife

What do you say…

What do you say when all the words have been said
When the sound of your footsteps walking away seem to echo

What do you say when you are still hopeless, still deeply, deliciously, precariously, in love.

When you tell them every day but only in your head because they are gone but in a maybe temporary way and your heart can’t let go.

What do you say?

Love is a conundrum, a puzzle I can’t solve, a path you cannot walk alone.

Are you so present in my head because of my feelings? Is it metaphysical and our tie is feeding back to me your feelings? Are we just fools? Me for loving, you for silence?

Or am I only allowing the deep river of my feelings to cloud what is real?

Thoughts on sex and love

Sex can make you feel wanted, make you feel desired. It can bring pleasure and pain. It can make you feel something when you are consumed by nothingness.

But it’s empty. If they are gone in the morning. If there is no connection beyond the physical. If physical compatibility is all you have, then you really have nothing.

There has to be more. I know, from a cismale that’s blasphemy. Believe me, that standard fucks with our brains more than you know. The thought that sex is supposed to be the goal. It’s really unhealthy and it’s pervasive. And it’s false.

I have never felt so empty than after a ‘fun’ and meaningless hookup. Doesn’t matter if it was vanilla or something more. Empty. If it was BDSM, at least there’s aftercare. But it’s not enough.

I want breakfast and discussions. And shared time and laughter. Sex should draw us together. Make us more connected. Not obliterate connection.

My days of pointless wandering are over. I was only ever trying to fill the empty well of her passing. And, as I wake now, seemingly too late. I realize all that drowning in physical pleasure was just a mask for the deep pain of loss.

I seek better. I hope for better. But I fear that I have been lost for too long. That those who would accept me, are no longer available to me. They’ve found their lives and loves. Or stand broken, and unwilling to take a chance on someone who was broken too.