Am I in love with you or the idea of you? I am definitely in love with an idea, but I believe it to be the idea that I’m a better person, open to a wider world, when I’m with someone.
love
A love supreme
I was listening to A Love Supreme, part IV Psalm by John Coltrane when I left work tonight. Walking through the empty halls, seeing the lights from the cars and my city. Listening to the melancholy, the denouement, the end of this brilliant piece of music.
I see the pairing of this energetic Jazz and the city as character. Made much more evident as I emerged into the night. On the roof of the parking garage, the panoply of lights and the city stretched out like, the Jazz bounding in my ears and heart. I feel a connection to the people of my city. I realize that I love them.
I don’t like most of them, I don’t know them. But at this moment, I am connected to them all, I feel boundless love for them. And as the last strains play, I want for only two things. One more play through of this sweeping music and you.
Whoever and wherever you are. I hope this finds its way to you.
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Dream
I dreamt that I met a beautiful woman, she was thin, slightly shorter than me, small, almost flat chest, elegant hands perfect for holding or kissing. She was smart and we talked about music. I kissed her and she was gentle at first, then more forceful. Her hair was soft and I ran my hands over her. Trailing the edge of fingernails over the lingerie, black lace she wore. So damn sexy. I moved to go down on her and found a surprise. A five inch cock. Thin and perfectly groomed. I looked up at her and could see the fear and trepidation in her eyes. Holding her eyes with mine I ran my tongue up the length of her surprise. I took her in my mouth, running my tongue against the softness, sucking and swirling. Replacing my mouth with my hand, I trailed kisses up her abdomen, paused to suck a tit, then kissed the small of her throat. I whispered to her, your beautiful. I remember having sex but not the rest of the specifics. I woke beside her, her ass snuggled down against me. I reach over an pinch a nipple. She turns to me and murmurs good morning and looking into her hazel eyes I am turned on. We have sex again. I ask her out to a real date. We go eat Italian. Then we are leaving the restaurant and as we exit, her in the crook of my arm, snuggled against me. I hear someone say something behind us, something like Faggots. Maybe they saw her lovely little Adam’s apple. A woman is who she is, a dick is what she has. Anyway, I’m enraged. I turn and ask, threateningly, did you say something? He swaggers over and says, I said Faggot. I say, Oh, I thought you said please stab me multiple times and leave me to bleed out in an alley. I pull a blade. He backs away, fear in his eyes. I turn back to my beautiful. She has fear in her eyes too. I put the blade away. I walk up to her and holding her hands, I say You are mine. I will protect you from every hurt as best I can. We walk off to the movie. That’s all I remember.
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Hold me?
I still love every one I have ever loved. I now say I care instead of I love. But this is just a safeguard. A check to maintain the status qo. It is merely that the pain of those lost to me is piled on top of the mountain of pain that I live upon. And each new pain begins to spin out, to cover what came before, in a thin layer that is endurable. How can I expect to find someone who will love me if I cannot let go my pain. Am I getting better or merely becoming better at deluding myself. So many nights and days I don’t want sex, I just want to be held. But, I’ll term it as sex because that is seemingly more socially acceptable than to admit to this weakness. This need for connection.
That is a male problem. We’re not allowed to seem weak. I can get away with crying in public, with being emotional and many other things because I am seen as strong. Unassailable, but vulnerability, that is too far. And truthfully I don’t care what others think, but social mores make things difficult. This is all cold detachment. An effort to bring myself back under control as, as I write this, tears stream down my face. So overcome am I that tears are my only outlet. I want my Morgan back. I want to hold Eric one last time. I want what cannot be.
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Stream of consciousness
Set adrift, spin round, paper boat on the wide sea, drift tide pulling back to launch,full circle, accomplishments lost to anonymity, lamentations for a life lived as others cannot understand, foreign and exotic, what to explain and what to leave behind, stories and thoughts lived in other lives, explain a piece that feels incomplete, justify passion, wonder at your touch, then dropped, more puzzled than sad, quizzical, what I write disconnected at times to how I feel, consciousness streamed through a leaking sieve, I think back and you certainly left an impression, bloody damn memory based in touch, I remember damn near every moment with you, and others whom I did love only get fragments, I’d love a second chance to fuck you, this time in a room less cold, spin top, drink wine, play the games we promised, never ask for a fantasy I haven’t tried, there are so few, ask for what I desire with you, you’ll not be disappointed, oh recent past stands out, past people can understand, past that doesn’t involve a whip, a lash, blood and screams, her desire was singular and my desire to give her all coupled well, I owned her and out of selfishness failed her, and every day since is a curse, I died as she did that day, I just didn’t lay down, I’d seek redemption but I don’t deserve it, faltered once in my ideals, will never falter again, this makes me strange and twisted, sexual sensual, a walking talking mixed signal, sex and lust: kiss and touch but never far enough until love, by which time everyone has since flown, sex as a good time, belittles us, makes mockery of its beauty, can you not love as I love, just a bit of time to fall then you’ll have all of me, love need not be permanent, immutable, love me this night and for three nights, fall as I fall, we need not be the whole of each other’s world’s, but we should be more than just a orgasm
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7 words to make you fall in love x 7
The chores are done. I cooked dinner.
I’ll pay for your next tattoo/piercing.
You’re the sexiest person I’ve ever undressed.
Hearing your voice is like coming home.
Your touch makes me ache for more.
I’m the blade at your side. Orders?
I burn. Warm yourself by my flames.
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Hearts beat
All I want is you in my arms
I thought I had found you
each time I am mistaken
So I keep looking, keep finding, keep losing
I’m tired, I’m spent
But my heart still leaps, still yearns, still beats
A little slower now, a little quieter,
Yearning for the soft unguarded moments
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Documentation of the spiral
I distance my heart from you because I must. Because you aren’t interested in me. We don’t talk anymore and I know I’m the one who burned that bridge. By my action but I think we got there together. Yet I still love you. The pain when I see you. When we don’t talk. I want to convince myself that it’s just the talk that I want, but that’s a lie. What I want is for that moment we connected, that spark I felt and that connection you said you felt. what I want is for that to come to full fruition. To be a romantic relationship. Which I know is not to be, but I can’t stop loving you. I just don’t think about you in every waking moment, when I receive a message there is no longer that thrill of hope that it’s from you. You are the first in a long time to spin me round. I would have done anything, anything for you. The only thing I wanted was what I gave. Maybe the price was too much for you to pay. Maybe that connection was you just agreeing to get along and not truth. I am foolish enough to hope that you will come to me and ask for another chance. I would give it. I love you.
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Delusional, maybe a bit stupid
I’m delusional. Thinking that if I can just wait long enough, hold on long enough, you’ll somehow be waiting on the other side of your personal maelstrom. Waiting, looking for me. I don’t know if I can do that. If there were some indication that you wanted me, just not right now, while your traversing the jungle of your mind. I’d probably, look for you. I’d wait. Because right now I can’t stop looking for your smile or a response I know will never come. I’m delusional, not stupid.
I worry when you are not there, hoping you are alright, hoping you feel better, hoping you stay. Even if its not with me. Just stay. This world is worth the time. Whatever rest or oblivion you think is coming, can wait. This time, this place, these people around you, all unique in the universe. Take advantage, find joy, find something that lasts for more than a few hours.
Pleasure is great. Everyone knows I’m an advocate for pleasures dark and light and everywhere in between. But it doesn’t last, you always need more. Find the small moments of joy. The beauty you can carry with you. You’ve made it clear you don’t want me on that journey with you. Which means I’m sad, bleak, bereft but I hope you can find the path to joy without me. I love you enough to watch you walk away. I just want what you are walking to to be everything I would have helped you achieve, every experience and idea I could offer, and whatever the other things I don’t have that you are looking for.
I want you to feel the opposite of what I feel now, eyes blurred with tears. I want that for you. You deserve that joy. Seek it.
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Emotional shotgun
Why do I want to forgive every imposition, every hurt, every game, every callous disregard that you inflict? I’ve impaled myself on the blade of your attention. This blood trickles out of the wound.
This pain, and I want to snuggle down next to it. Push the blade deeper if it meant being closer to you. I still want to be yours. I don’t think it will ever happen. But my heart is foolish. It can’t see past our love of you.
My compassion sees you in pain and I just want you to not hurt. My heart wants me to sacrifice, to do something. Say something, what will help you. What will heal you. All at odds with my own well being.
But, some small part of my too logical brain, says if we can help you, we should. My romantic heart and mind say that a world where you are happy is better than a world where I am OK and you are sad. And I know that’s destructive, probably much too far. And yet these are my feelings, these are my thoughts.
And I wish I could say this to you and not seem mad or obsessive. And some small part of my heart hopes that if you did know, then the dam would break and you would love me as I love you.
But these are emotions, and if this life has taught me anything, it’s that what we want, what we desire, is rarely what is offered where others are concerned.
So I sit at this crossroads. Blade buried deep in my heart. Knowing I should move on, logically seeing all of the wounds inflicted. But emotionally not capable of it. Pulled back to her and pulled away. Waiting in this purgatory for her to rescue me, or time passing allow my heart to give up and let me move forward.
Pelgris 