Step by step, find your way to me

Sometimes I think that my life is a path
Worn away
Wind and rain and casual travelers
All taken this care worn road
Erasing the lines
Until all someone might find beautiful
Is erased
Who will find their way
To marvel and dream along my haunted shores
No longer shiny or new
Who will follow to paths ending
The garden
Dying on the edge of love
But still
Holding on

Knives of jade spill blood as beauty

Curved sinuous
Turned crystalline
Cuts tongue
Choked words spill onto bloody snow

Hand caresses soft skin
Warmth blooms
Frozen over

Cracked slough
Weights too heavy to bare
Fall away

Pepper frozen blood
Shrapnel burst
Flayed of protective cover

Hopeful anew
Slowly dying
In the brittle
Bone chill
Of morning
Long before the dawn

Emotional shotgun

Would you want to kiss me if you knew I’d always want one more? One more taste of your lips or word from your tongue? One more unexpected laugh, one more, always one more, one more hour of your warmth mingled with mine, one more glimpse of you happy? Fool that I am, I think love is the point, to be honest and loyal, but so often cast off I begin to wonder, am I so boring to be caught by? Or is it that I sit in a holding pattern waiting for you to step to me as I would step to you? I’m just looking for some indication that it’s not all exhilaration of the chase. Something, I find so boring, to hunt and take. Say you are mine and I would take you, all madness and passion, it builds in me and never goes away. Or am I too strange, does the mad whirl drive you away?

I hang on to a ghost because at least the loss is real. Am I fighting so hard to find you and know you that it’s easier to disappear than confront me? I have to say, it’s a popular choice, though I never understand why they just don’t talk to me. I promise, I am unlike anyone you’ve met before. If you expect me to jump one way, you’re better off asking. I don’t change my mind on a dime, but I’ll always have an opinion. A man who talks about his feelings, brace yourself. Or worse, listens and can be persuaded by honest discourse. I know it’s hyperbolic but it’s still true. Perhaps I’m just too far from the norm? Someone who wants to know feelings and thoughts and day by day build a life? Who will share his thoughts and feelings and wants to commiserate not fix, necessarily. He must be some kind of witch burn him. I assure you I am neither a duck or a very small rock.

Maybe I’m just tired of spinning my wheels in the sand, trying to make butter. Or maybe it’s four AM and I am trying not to fall asleep, so I can keep myself from dwelling on memories. Or hopes.

Sometimes, all the time, I wish it was as easy as ‘I love you’, perhaps I should stop using a shorthand and say instead that I like, respect, and desire you. That I take how you may perceive my actions into account before I make a decision. Because I know it’s not just my needs, it’s yours and I’ll always want the best for you. Even if we fight, or argue, hurting you would be the last thing I would want to do. But we’re people so, it’s going to happen, I know. I don’t expect perfection, fuck, I don’t want perfection. How boring would that be if we could not surprise each other in good and bad ways?

I mean all this and more when I say I love you. Maybe it’s too much? Maybe it’s easier to play along, always with one foot out the door? Maybe I should explain what I mean by love?

Or is it that I always want that one step further? One more than you’re willing to give. But if you tell me, ‘You’ve gone to far.’ I’ll respect your hard limits. Just keep talking to me. I can’t know if you don’t say. I may guess, I may conclude. But if you tell me, I’ll know. Just say soft limit or hard limit. Honestly, BDSM done right is relationship jujitsu and I am a Master.