Slipping days

Meet me in the darkness, in the dreaming
hold me against the coming dawn
find me please
I’m tired of searching
tired of thinking I’ve found you
tired of being wrong

Dealing with open wounds

Time heals nothing. It’s our fading memories that give rise to this statement. We forget. The closest I get to forgetting is compartmentalizing those experiences into a specific mindstate. I might even code the mindstate to a locale. I sometimes wish my mind allowed me to forget completely. But then I’ll recall a conversation or a smile or dancing with Morgan. I’ll recall a kiss or a touch. And as much as these memories are melancholic, I would not trade them for the temporary comfort of forgetting. Of losing them.

7 words to make a person fall in love

I will never stop communicating with you
I will never deliberately cause you pain
I desire to make your dreams manifest
All else pales in comparison to you
Just wondering, will you dance with me
I collect wine. Would you like some?
I want to know all your thoughts

Thoughts on rules and love

A friend of mine asked if being ghosted was a betrayal. She was trying to put it in perspective. And, I think, to give me an out. However, it was not betrayal. It was just sad. And my rules aren’t meant to make my life easier. They are meant to force me down ways I would not normally travel. Put another way, I serve them. They do not serve me. My rules are harsh like navigating a path filled with thorns all sharp and pointed inward. Their purpose is to mold me into the things I want for myself. If the easy path, the easy answer didn’t always beckon.

I mention this to highlight one of my rules.

Wherever love is possible, it must be allowed to flourish.

This is a rule built on the back of my rule to not betray. And my rule that you serve something other than yourself. It’s a sub rule blending aspects of both primary rules.

Where I see love possible, I will open my heart to it. Even if it destroys me in this life.
If a relationship fades but love still exists and that relationship did not fail for breach of a primary rule and should I not be committed to another, I will open my heart and welcome my love back. We will try again.

I know it seems foolish. And possibly dangerous, but judicious application of the other rules make it far less so.

I believe love is worth the risk. Worth the cost.

My rules enforce that belief.
I say rules but mean code. A person needs a code. A ruleset that can be lived by a mortal and which serves to elevate them.

Just some thoughts on the subject

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

Waking up

Waking up
I find myself thinking of you
the thought of you stretching as you wake
the simple pleasure of seeing your consciousness flood into you
beautiful
welcoming you to the day
welcome my love
welcome my heart
welcome
welcome

Summer heat

The car sits in the desert sun. Windows shut the air takes on a quality not unlike flame. Into this heat, I sit down. Car off, no ac, just silence and heat. The pain of the heat making me aware of the feel of my skin becoming taught. The heat eases the tension out of my body. A tension I am holding onto, even after this forced relaxation. Something only alleviated by you. A word. A picture. And this heat bringing me back around, heartbeat rocking my chest. Air becoming harder, heavier. The butterfly crush of your lips to mine as we plunder each other, tongue finding treasure with each touch. Desire made tangible with the pressure of the heat.

Emotional shotgun – In love edition

I want more time, more words, more connection, more touches, more teeth, more nails, more kisses, more sex, more sharing, more, more, more.

It makes me seem greedy or needy. It makes me seem mad. It makes me seem unreasonable. I seem, seem, seem.

What I’m really asking is will you stay? Are you mine? Am I yours? I’m here for the distance but my insecurities drive people away. I’m looking for yes. I’m looking for, of course. I know it is needy and I hate feeling this way. I hate needing that reassurance. I’m so used to standing alone but I crave to stand together. With you it feels so present, so now and I can’t seem to be, just be without a word, just a word. And I hate asking and I hate being this mess. I want to be a pillar of strength at your side. But I need that reassurance not because it’s new but because I don’t take it for granted. And that’s odd and that’s weird. But it’s me. And I’m spinning out not from depression but from stress. I want to make it all better but I don’t have the tools or the words and I keep fumbling about looking for the right words and I just want to hold you and not need to say anything