Within the circle of arms

Give me your mouth
So full of promise and blood
Pain dancing on silent tongue

Give me your hand
So full of strength and softness
Life beating in the feel of your wrist

Give me your body
So full of wicked and blessed
Pleasure burning through veins

Give me your mind
So full of fear and loss
Safe measure found at last

Give me your heart
So full of love and dark
You are, at last, home

A moment to ponder

Sometimes the cab of the truck outside of the house is the only quiet
The only calm
The only myself I get to be
I wonder how it came that I am split
A heart and thoughts in dichotomis parallel
One part with friends in the city I love
One part with love in the far reaches
And home
This place I sleep
Has become disquiet
Almost hostile
It’s interiors no more shelter than a battlefield
I can grasp the contentment I once felt
Hear the wind whip and whistle
The heat gathering in bones
Eyes too sad to weep

Nightmares are also dreams, part 5

Waking before the dawn can make the nights feel shorter. But those quiet hours before sunrise always feel like a gift. Getting up and making coffee. Watching Tara snuggle into the warm spot I just vacated. Watching Sara pull Tara to her. These unconscious movements echoed in sleepy waking smiles and soft kisses.

Sara moves her hands under the cover, the arch of Tara’s back showing the results of her touch. I watch their kisses and caresses for a minute. Drinking in their lust and love for each other. It leaps my heart to see my girls happy and safe.

I softly walk to the nightstand and place a insulated mug of coffee for Sara and a twin of that mug with hot cocoa for Tara onto the night stand. I know Sara hears me but her mouth is otherwise occupied with Tara’s. I walk to the shower and close the door softly. The heat of the water slams into me. Sluicing away that gritty tightness of my skin. Feeling the heat soothe away the pains of a hard life gone soft.

I take my time. Lathering with lemon peppermint soap, the smell evoking sun and winter chill. When the heat is almost dizzying, I turn off the water. The steam curls in the eddies of the air conditioner.

Jen texts, All is ready.

So, the project Girls day out is a go. Jen will pick up Tara in 2 hours and they will go shopping. Stereotypes aside, Tara likes spending time with Jen and anytime she can be out in the world and feel safe is to be encouraged. Plus, I need some time with my wife. I never appreciated the freedom we had until it was curtailed.

I have described to Sara the utterly depraved acts of love I was going to visit upon her body today. She is completely psyched up for pain and torture.

So, of course, we’ll be going in a different direction.

I hear through the hot mist, the warbling tea kettle cry of Tara as she screams her orgasms through the bedroom. I smile dark and bright. My girls.

It should be a good day.


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.


If I could change what I did in the relationship with you my goddess, I would only change this: I would have said something much sooner. I would have expressed my affection for you in late April. We may well have ended up in the same place as we are now. But we would have had a bit more than an extra month together. Maybe that is foolish. I can only imagine how much more pain I would be in after having more time with you and ending as it did, but the time I was with you, I felt like I was home. I can’t imagine being unwilling to pay the price for that little bit of extra time.

Missing you

I’m not sure how I do this but I’m missing you.  
Somehow, I’m missing your kiss.
Missing your touch.
Missing the feel of your hand in mine.
Missing your voice and your thoughts.
Missing you, though we’ve never touched
But somehow
I’m missing, yearning,
needing with a sense of longing
a sense of being homesick.
You are my home, my heart, my love

A rooftop view

Love is a force all its own. It moves world’s as surely as gravity. But in its wake the things that are changed are you and me. Wiser, happier or devastated, all because the heart recognizes its counterpart and thrusts, dagger quick, into the mind. Taking residence, guiding us to each other. Leaves caught in the tempest. Clinging to each other, having at last found our way home.