A ten by ten room
made of blood and bone
sinew taut and running rone
languid thought and slashing blade
hurricane disaster
a grip on the horizon
and the last drop of whisky
hard to loose oblivion
drunk on pleasure and serotonin withdrawal
awaking nightmare
found without rudder
without sail
adrift
welcoming the last storm
love
15 days, dwindling
I miss caring for someone and being cared for in return. I miss giving an order and having carried it out. I miss the joy on my their face when I say, “Good Girl.” I miss the life. The life as I learned it. The submission and compliance. Punishment and reward. Rules made to show care, to demonstrate love, to make each moment better. Never to hold back, always to foster growth. I miss these things, but mostly I miss being loved. I miss loving someone full bore with my slightly crazy heart and being loved in return by theirs.
I miss the lifestyle because it’s the only world I’ve known where love is the most important thing. Where communication rises to the level of my need. Where such is internally enforced by the cultural norms of the lifestyle. Maybe this is my experience because I’m the common denominator, I know that others have experienced abuse, that this lifestyle draws abusers and takers.
I’m not that. I have no way to convince you. You would need to trust me. I have no real point here. I’m 15 days out and I guess I just miss my Morgan. We weren’t perfect, but we had love. I miss her. I miss who I was with her. I miss…
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Just a thought
Not being able to fall out of love is a hell I’d not wish on anyone. It’s the state I find myself in. It fades but the smallest hint or hope brings it flooding back. The truth is, once I fall, I fall forever. Is it lucky or horrible that I can love multiple people completely? To live torn apart like this, when I am single and to fall again when not. Life is a cruelty.
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Held lightly and with consent
I hate when my people are hurting
I know they aren’t mine mine, despite my desire, but I can’t help how I feel. I want them happy or at least content and I wish I could help other than by just being there. I wish I was allowed to. I wish I could sweep them into my arms and at least hold them. And make sure they know that they are loved. I’m not much for jokes so I can’t give laughter most days, but I can give safety and words of beauty. And actions of care, if I am allowed, though I rarely am.
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Take a chance
Rather have the burning wreckage of what was
and failed than the hopeful possible
of what may be
Than the dream of you
Than to hold you in my arms
In sleep, in distance, and know the answer is never
Better to hold my heart inviolate
Than to fall forever
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What is most important in this world
Love is
Love is motivation and brightness and light
It is the moon in dark skys
It is the soft enveloping night
To love is to support, to lift up, to create, to desire, to burn. Love is the creation of dreams. It is the constant core. It is the relationship that renews and recreates itself. Respect and joy twine in the heart of love. Compassion and communication, commitment to the goal of each other and the path of acceptance. Flexibility in the face of change.
Love is the core of the world.
Power and lust. Greed and Anger. Lies and fear. These build nothing that last. Nothing that is worth the price of living.
Love is the storm in winter. It is the song that wakes you up. The dream that you hold in your arms. It is everything.
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Not a minute less than forever
I have not a childish need
Or teenagers lust for you
Your form
Though attractive
Is not what is sought
I’ve see you in meadow
In shade
In dappled drop
Across peaks
Down chasm
In flame and storm
Your head held high
I seek you
Not for a moments pleasure
But for a lifetime of pain
A pain born of minutes in anger or seconds without you
This grasping of nothing
This uncertainty told tale
Instead
Say yes
For you,
I’ll bend the world
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To name a thing
Some say I am brave to love
To gamble heart and sanity
On chance and flame
Mayhap, my sight is flawed
I know myself for broken
And perhaps in breaking further
My pieces will align and I will be whole
perhaps the flame will forge me
And I will rise anew
Is it bravery to love?
Rather, I think, it necessity.
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On repeat
I repeat to myself
I want to die
I want to die
I want to die
This litany slithers and drifts
This hope to stop existing
This dream that something
Anything
Will stop my mindless gears from turning
Until the crushing weight of my own words
Set my conscious mind to planning
But it was a lie
I just want the pain to stop
So at least
I’ll stop burying the blade deep in myself
And say
I am loved
Even if it probably isn’t true
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Reckless healer
I miss romantic love as much as I miss that blissful period when I loved only myself.
A brief time after forgiveness of things beyond my control leading up to the swooping vultures of this guy’s interesting to play with.
Or in thinking that my heart is genuinely filled and cutting it open like a pomegranate to drip seeds down hungry throats.
The pain a substitute for reciprocity
Until, woken I ask for clarification
And
In so doing
Find myself to have been alone
Or instead with pale spectre as companion
Try to shove a heart dripping juice
Never quite full again
Into a chest grown to small
Instead hold in hands
Hoping to find sharing
Or,
At last
For inflammation to cool
The swelling goes down
And fits back in chest
Or to lament that fact
Can’t make you want
More than this distance
To be admired
And loved from
Space removed
So much easier to go quiet
To fade
When I no longer see you
And the blade no longer sinks home with each smile aimed away
Pelgris 