No, I may not be into this thing you love but I’m into you. Show me your world. Show me the beauty of the things you love. Seeing them through your eyes, I will come to appreciate them at the least because you enjoy them. Because I enjoy when you are happy. At best I will love them as you do and we can share the experience. But don’t cut me out because you fear what I say. I don’t judge strangers. Why would I judge someone I actually like.
beauty
Missing what never was
I miss telling you how beautiful you are, not just because it’s true and I don’t think you believe it but because it’s the closest you would allow to me saying I love you.
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Waking from a dream at 4AM
My heart whispers to me, “wouldn’t it be amazing if she comes to us today and says ‘I know you have tickets to the Symphony, why didn’t you invite me’
to which we reply ‘You know why. I am in love with you and I can’t be around you without that knowledge. It would be disingenuous of me to ask you to go without you knowing that I want more than just friends. It’s painful to be around you on anything but that. Are you saying you want to explore whether you have or could fall for me?’
then she would say ‘I’m not sure’ uncertainly, and we would reply ‘
what are you not sure of? I can only promise what I did all those months ago. That I will do my level best to not hurt you. That I will always be honest with you. That I will do anything I can to help you in whatever endeavor you choose to give try to. ‘
and she will look at us with hope and say’ that’s what I want’.”
My brain looks at my heart for a long minute as my heart smiles and fidgets with nervous energy. My brain says “Gods love you, that is a beautiful scenario you have there. But you Must know, it’s not going to happen. She doesn’t have the courage to come to us under those circumstances, and she has made it clear as mud that she’s not interested in us in that way.” My heart replies, earnestly, “But it could happen.” To which my brain just shakes his head.
And this is why I wake and my heart hurts. Because it cannot let her go and I love here enough to forgive and move on past nearly anything. It gets easier to bear the pain of not being with her. Of not talking daily, of not being what we were and what we could be. The pain becomes just a part of my daily burden. But my heart still hopes. It is a fool. I’m a fool for having some part of me that thinks this might happen. But that part is beautiful, even if he is a fool.
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What I see
I want to make love to you in a room full of strangers. I want to show these people that your sensuality cannot be quenched. That you are sex itself and my desire for you burns like plasma. I want you to feel their eyes on you as you orgasm again and again. I want you to see the envy of your pleasure, their eyes flashing as my tongue and hands and cock bring you to climax again and again and again. I want you to see that you are a queen. I want you to see in their eyes, in their lust what I say about you. That my words are all true. That you are sex and lust itself. I ache to burn in your fire.
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Delusional, maybe a bit stupid
I’m delusional. Thinking that if I can just wait long enough, hold on long enough, you’ll somehow be waiting on the other side of your personal maelstrom. Waiting, looking for me. I don’t know if I can do that. If there were some indication that you wanted me, just not right now, while your traversing the jungle of your mind. I’d probably, look for you. I’d wait. Because right now I can’t stop looking for your smile or a response I know will never come. I’m delusional, not stupid.
I worry when you are not there, hoping you are alright, hoping you feel better, hoping you stay. Even if its not with me. Just stay. This world is worth the time. Whatever rest or oblivion you think is coming, can wait. This time, this place, these people around you, all unique in the universe. Take advantage, find joy, find something that lasts for more than a few hours.
Pleasure is great. Everyone knows I’m an advocate for pleasures dark and light and everywhere in between. But it doesn’t last, you always need more. Find the small moments of joy. The beauty you can carry with you. You’ve made it clear you don’t want me on that journey with you. Which means I’m sad, bleak, bereft but I hope you can find the path to joy without me. I love you enough to watch you walk away. I just want what you are walking to to be everything I would have helped you achieve, every experience and idea I could offer, and whatever the other things I don’t have that you are looking for.
I want you to feel the opposite of what I feel now, eyes blurred with tears. I want that for you. You deserve that joy. Seek it.
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Fear is but the first step
To not take chances from fear is to betray yourself. It is not bravery one must act with. Instead one must examine ones fears. Does this action make you afraid? If so does the fear serve its intended purpose and keep you from harming yourself or others? If so then it behooves you to examine the desire to find out the why’s of it. If the fear does not serve you then you must take the action. There will be consequences, there will be fallout. Prepare your mind for that potentiality. Then let it go. Embrace the action as one of beauty. Then step forward.
We live lives sheltered in our fear. Comfortable, safe lives. But ask instead why you live. If you have the life you want, then ignore me. I am joyful in your finding and keeping of it. But if you have not, then ask yourself why not? You are the only constant. The tools available to you are embodied in the choices you make. Accept that the world is chaos. Accept that the only thing you have control over are your choices.
Embrace fear. Embrace consequence. Embrace choice.
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Thoughts on beauty and introspection
Beauty is not about your body. If I meant it to be about your body I would have said pretty. Or used the phrase aesthetically pleasing.
When I comment that a person is beautiful, I always mean that I have caught a glimpse of something indefinable, some piece of your self that calls to my humanity. A piece that makes me fall in love, just a little bit, with that person.
Needless to say, I fall in love all the time. I think it’s a poets job to look inside to see and more importantly to write and speak.
To let people know that they are not faceless, not invisible. That beauty lurks in the heart of us all.
I’m not the best vehicle for telling people of their beauty. I’m not great at the whole charisma thing, I don’t think anyway. But I’ll write it, and hopefully they’ll see themselves the way I see them.
Off topic a bit, I’m in pain all the time. Loving individuals is who I am, it let’s me write, let’s me see and I wouldn’t change that. But so few people, see me. And I don’t mean in my writing, I mean me, the totality of me. And it is so very painful to love and not be loved.
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On happiness and beauty
We all deserve a little happiness, so let what makes you happy consume you once in awhile.
What makes me happy is the transitory nature of beauty and the ephemeral quality of performed art. Sounds pretentious, I know. What I mean is that beauty shifts and changes as we the perceiver change This change, allows us to change as we see ourselves through this outside lens and in seeing are changed by the experience.
As to the ephemeral quality of performed art. Well, no two performance is the same, each one is a unique experience, each a microcosm of itself and a connection to each other person that experiences this with you. These feelings of connection can allow us the space to embrace our humanity. To see, for a moment, in the shared experience, community.
Further, those that share the experience are forever linked. Even that little bit of connection weaves us into the tapestry of the world.
Take some time to do what makes you happy, and remember to share your passion, your joy. Maybe you are someone’s transitory beauty. Maybe it’s your ideas or your smile. We make this world with ourselves, out of our lives and that is beauty.
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Memories
Memory for me is immediate and real. I don’t see things through a haze. Or misremember and take this as fact. I remember in scenes.
I remember body positions. The way someone moves. The emotional context of their words and the impact of the phrasing, but not the exact words themselves.
These memories are stones in an ice river. Ever flowing downstream, but upstream, these moments of frozen time, playing out a silent film, again and again. It is a very personal and comforting type of memory. I hold these moments in my heart forever.
I dance in joy, breathe the night air, answer a question as I dance blindly(glasses off) at a club, marvel at the moon, talk with women, talk with men, sex, and the prelude to sex, brush the hair from eyes, shake my hair out, drink a mojito, flirt with a waiter, hear a horrible truth, the weight of a secret lifting. Thousands of moments, minutes, people and actions.
All culminating into life, my life. And yet, somehow empty. Empty without you.
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Vows of a drowning man
I’m sure your body is beautiful. But I’m looking at your eyes. Your eyes are the window to your soul. They reflect the world around you. I want nothing more than to see them crinkle with a smile when they see me.
The body is a playground and, believe me, we will play. Your joy, your laughter, your sobs, your tears, the soft thoughts and harsh words. These all are seated in your eyes, issued forth from lips and tongue, breathe over vocal cords. Churned forth in the maelstrom of your mind.
I may like the way you move, the outfit you wear. The form of your body. But I reserve my love for the parts that make up your soul. Whisper your words, pierce me with eyes, show me your world.
Pelgris 