I love you like a mad thing
straining at the leash
gnawing it’s own limbs to get to you
ferocious
blood spattered maw from any that dare harm you.
But tongue lolling out and dancing around
happy as can be in your presence.
This physical, visceral need for you burns in my veins
I struggle against everything that keeps us apart.
Mouth open, I roar my defiance
until bled out
the last dregs of energy bleed away
and only my eyes plead
stay
A slow burn like wet gunpowder mixed with dry, the ruined with the ruinous, the truth with the lie
A kiss is all I have to give, a touch to make one cry
I’ve fought my battles and lost my wars, I’ve drunken from the wells of sorrow
But then I saw into you, and breaking heart, I’m born anew.
But always, always burning
Don’t take me in your arms my love lest you be burning too
Or hold me close and trust, my flame is ever for you
I have in the past, said “I care deeply for you.” I said it meaning that I felt love. That I was in love. But I think it conveys the wrong message. I think it says that I feel something deep and strong and enduring, but I don’t know what it is and can’t put it into words.
And for me, it’s just not true.
For me, it’s cowardice. I said it because I was afraid of the answer. Afraid it was too soon, afraid of the potential rejection, afraid of what it meant if I said it.
For me, that phrase is a dodge. It is me hiding from the truth. And it’s painful and it leaves things unsaid that should be said. Should be known.
So now, the only time I will use it is as a part of this phrase: “I care deeply for you, you are amazing and lovely and I love you.”
Thought I’d share what I was thinking about.
Note: Not directed at anyone, it just got me thinking.
Victoria? I keep hearing that name in my dreams. Usually names don’t stick but Victoria does. And it’s always the same. She is always a lover. And always someone I love. She is demanding and a bit dominant but not my master. We meet clandestinely. She will come by, drop hints to when she will be available and I will go to her. We are passion itself. She is only available for small windows of time, but I know I am her island of normal in a chaotic life. This dream is always set inside another dreamscape. As if even there she is hiding. And each time I wake, my heart literally hurts. Like being ripped away from her by waking is so traumatic that I physically get hurt.
This is the song I hope will run through K’s head. I cannot touch her in the ways that I want to but her mind and perhaps her heart are mine. I hope this song touches her as I cannot.
You want me but not me.
Me who’s better looking.
Me who’s more successful.
Rich me. Popular me. Fantasy me.
You want the poet but don’t want the pain. You want the torrent of desire but don’t want the flame.
You’ll warm yourself by my heartfire but won’t open your own.
I’m just a bandaid, a temporary distraction from your life.
And you tell yourself, he’ll be happy for the attention, that it’s all just a game.
But I’m falling in love, because my heart can’t learn this lesson, won’t do it, refuses to see.
Not all words are true, not the way you say them, that these words they speak without connecting to their heart.
And my heart only hears theirs beating and makes a castle of hope.
When you say, “Sir”, it sends a frission through me. It ignites me like treated wood, builds burn to bright. My possession of you leads to possibilities of public and private. A touch to remind, a choker to mind, a corset to bind, harsh hemp rope making you mine. We are everyday. We are happy. You spark and burn when shocked and bled. My beautiful girl. Mine, mine mine, growl pours from lips to teeth biting clit. My need for you, my joy for you, each touch and sentence spoken, binding us closer. Commands become the choice of happiness and we move in tandem. You to hurt me as I command. My pain is pleasure and you are never denied. Passion pours from us in simple touch, the light in our eyes making truth where others see betrayal. We are blood and hope and fit together. The only thing improper is desire left to rot. But you hop and smile and say Sir. An exploration of boundaries, of each desire taken to the bleeding edge. Our comfort in the choices of each other. Of each other.
The cold seeps in
Tearing me open
A thousand words unsaid
Leaving flechette blooms
Heat rises
Blood flows freely
A thousand acts taken
Leaving indelible marks
Heart beats
Lips caress skin
A thousand choices
Leading me to you
Anyone who has been with me, reading this blog, knows that I fall in love and I fall in love and I fall in love. And you may wonder, is my heart so fickle that it falls in love so often? Or am I unable to commit and so flit from love to love?
The answer is neither of those things. My feeling is that we choose to shut ourselves off. We choose to love stingyly. Because it hurts. Because pain is so hard to take when the relationship ends. We convince ourselves that because it did not last, it must not have been love.
We do ourselves a disservice. Love is not so fickle. In our aversion to pain, we choose to allow our hearts to fade.
I did this for a long time. For 6 years. And you may not think that is that long. But to me, it was a prison I didn’t know how to get out of. I had to be pulled out of it.
That relationship failed, but it woke me up. I began to see again. And what I chose, ultimately it is a choice, what I chose is love. To not reject love. To not seek it, but to allow it.
So, in the natural course of being a poet, of seeing into people, of seeing who they are. In the moment. I see their unique beauty. Even if we are just words. Even if we never meet.
We are still hearts and minds and desires. And allowing ourselves to be honest with each other and ourselves, we allow for love. We give ourselves permission to fall in love. To jump from the precipice and fall. Exhilaration and pain, always hoping that there is no bottom. That you fall as well and we choose to love with fierceness.
To love each day. To not let love flair then fade, the flames must be fed. Sharing ourselves. Sharing everything. And each new piece is beautiful. Each new piece reminds me of why I jumped and why many people are worth the fall.
Love gloriously, love thoroughly, love without end. Because they don’t. My heart is not fickle. Those I love, I love forever. I hold that love forever. Love is not a finite resource. It is infinite. Relationships fail for any number of reasons, but love fails only when we allow it to. When we get distracted by the noise and the comfort of saying that the relationship failed because it wasn’t love. The lie we tell ourselves. Because if it was love, then the relationship failed because of us. And then you are forced to examine why and who you are. Always the hardest part.
So. My love is not fickle. It is a fire that rages, a sky in storm, an ocean in depth. It is eternal. I won’t hold myself to a lesser standard. But, you. You I will forgive, because I love you.
Pelgris 