love

Thoughts on beauty and introspection

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Beauty is not about your body. If I meant it to be about your body I would have said pretty. Or used the phrase aesthetically pleasing.

When I comment that a person is beautiful, I always mean that I have caught a glimpse of something indefinable, some piece of your self that calls to my humanity. A piece that makes me fall in love, just a little bit, with that person.

Needless to say, I fall in love all the time. I think it’s a poets job to look inside to see and more importantly to write and speak.
To let people know that they are not faceless, not invisible. That beauty lurks in the heart of us all.

I’m not the best vehicle for telling people of their beauty. I’m not great at the whole charisma thing, I don’t think anyway. But I’ll write it, and hopefully they’ll see themselves the way I see them.

Off topic a bit, I’m in pain all the time. Loving individuals is who I am, it let’s me write, let’s me see and I wouldn’t change that. But so few people, see me. And I don’t mean in my writing, I mean me, the totality of me. And it is so very painful to love and not be loved.

Thoughts on friendship

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I am baffled by how casually people count friends and friendship. Seemingly, people drop in and out of their lives and this is acceptable to them. If I put in the effort to cultivate friendship I expect it to last. To be worth more than casual acquaintance.

Friends are the family I choose. I love my friends, would do harm for my friends, in some cases sacrifice my life for them. I am terrible at expressing how much I love and value them.

So when I see this oh so casual behavior, it makes me afraid. Afraid that my trust and heart is misplaced, and afraid that perhaps they do not see how much they are loved. Or more distressing, that they simply do not care.

Worries

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The last time I felt as full of nothing was in the dark times after I lost Sara. I don’t know where or why I feel this way. I don’t understand it.

I worry that I’m losing myself again. That this sojourn into open, honest emotion is somehow coming to a close.
I worry that I will find who I’m looking for. That I’ll be disappointed when I do.

I worry that I’ll fight for someone and do us both a disservice.

I worry that I’m sacrificing pieces of myself to write. That I take more validation from people liking my work than I do in the work itself.

I worry that if I do find someone to share my life with, I’ll fuck it up.

I worry that my obvious deficiencies are why, despite looking and trying, I’m still alone.

I worry that Sara was my one chance and by not going with her that night, I failed her. I failed us. And my not finding any lasting relationship is my just punishment for my inaction.

I worry about how I’m perceived and am hurt when people see me as other than I intend.

I worry that my need for control is becoming destructive.

I worry that my desire for chaos is a sign of a lack of empathy.

I worry about my lack of guilt.

I worry that I’m drifting away from a real friend.

I worry about all of this and more.
I’m not constant in my worry, I let my subconscious handle most of it. But it’s all there, swirling in the background, even if I don’t act like it. It sits, leaden in my brain.

It’s why I occasionally wake, heart racing from a panic attack. Deep unconscious being one of the few times I’m out of control. Some of this, I just don’t have the strength to carry. And I’m approaching a time when something will either break or some of it will fall away. And I worry what I’ll lose this time.

Troubled heart

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Oh troubled heart
Find love in wings and lies
Burst forth

But spare the song
Loneliness gives counsel most unwise
It drinks from Hope’s well
And says give voice

But experience speaks
Though it sees the road ahead
In treachery born, line by line
It plays the innocent

Oh troubled heart
Cast not your action to inaction
But step forth slowly
The path is long and treacherous

But all journeys worth the pain are

Through the caul

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In all my wakings,
 as thought filters past dream,
  I think of lovers past and future.
Of tentative kiss and hopeful touch.
 Of breaking heart and building wave.
  Of empty beds and too cold sheets.
This sprawl, this hope, this life.
 And finally, I think of you.
  And know,
Having known your embrace, your love, your touch
 your dreams,
  your darkness.
And know that I am worthy of love,
 deep and powerful as an undertow,
  having known it with you.

Memories

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Memory for me is immediate and real. I don’t see things through a haze. Or misremember and take this as fact. I remember in scenes.

I remember body positions. The way someone moves. The emotional context of their words and the impact of the phrasing, but not the exact words themselves.

These memories are stones in an ice river. Ever flowing downstream, but upstream, these moments of frozen time, playing out a silent film, again and again. It is a very personal and comforting type of memory. I hold these moments in my heart forever.

I dance in joy, breathe the night air, answer a question as I dance blindly(glasses off) at a club, marvel at the moon, talk with women, talk with men, sex, and the prelude to sex, brush the hair from eyes, shake my hair out, drink a mojito, flirt with a waiter, hear a horrible truth, the weight of a secret lifting. Thousands of moments, minutes, people and actions.

All culminating into life, my life. And yet, somehow empty. Empty without you.

My morrigan

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I love the broken way you hold yourself
The shadows on your tongue
your tattered innocence peaking through your tilted smile
Your eyes flashing green when you’re happy and grey when you’re mad. My stormcloud. The soft sound of your voice.
My memories come sharp and clear. And I’m not sure how many more years I can endure without you.

I wrote this song for you. I wrote it awhile ago. But I can’t bring myself to sing it. As if singing it would drive the point home.

She’s smiling and I’m laughing
She’s sleeping and I’m watching
She’s incandescent and I’m night

It’s all in my rear view
And I can’t fight the fight

Each day that passes and I’m further away from you
I’m losing those moments, those minutes, those days.
Each time I wake, I walk farther away
Each time I sleep, I remember.

It wasn’t the loss that I could not endure
It’s this litany of days and hours without you

She’s dancing and I’m clapping
She’s yelling and I’m screaming
She’s cold and I’m colder

It’s all in my rear view
And I’m another year older

Each day that passes and I’m further away from you
I’m losing those moments, those minutes, those days
Each time I wake, I walk farther away
Each time I sleep, I remember

It wasn’t the loss that I could not endure
It’s this litany of day and hours without you

She’s going and I’m watching
She’s bleeding and I’m sleeping

She’s dying

Each day that passes and I’m further away from you
I’m losing those moments, those minutes, those days
Each time I wake, I walk farther away
Each time I sleep, I remember

Doesn’t seem like much, does it. And it’s not real. I remember you. each minute, each touch, each laugh.  I remember. Sometimes, to endure, I tell myself that I don’t remember. But like all lies, the truth will shine through.  And when it does its like losing you again. I cry and cry and nothing makes the pain ebb. sometimes I am happy and I’ll turn or think to tell you about something then it comes crashing back down. the days like this are getting further apart and I’m not sure that I can endure losing you in my memories as well.

Future passes as quickly as past

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I am the slaughtered remnants of life’s diminishing. I sing deep and greyscale, shifting sands playing melodies in graveyards. Ash precipitates from a pink sky, made beautiful in chaos’ light . Wracked sobs breaking the too still day.

The pain of remembering a good life made beautiful by the haze of times passage. Furys sound like anguish in unbroken night. Only the hollow future beckons me forward

A year passes

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The waters are stilling now. ripples from her dropping into the lake of me with the violent Splash Kerthunk of a boulder. Drifting to the bottom stirring the settled depths. Amidst turmoil and change, to be back round again. In the same place, lamenting choices taken and not. She stirred me up then gone like ghost. A memory only. The possible writ large. Crumbling in the quiet. Then a love so mental it consumed my mind, a key given to one who chose to not open the lock. A series of missteps, then a physical fire consumed and consuming. Extinguished before it could flame out. Then a mistake. Harsh lessons, and I settle in for Winter. The banshee wind howls outside my fireplace warmed room. The first snows are falling. And all my searching comes round to this empty.

Love rant

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Love is a continuum,
Ranging from as easy as falling to a constant struggle to be understood and accepted. It exists in many forms

All forms requires a leap of faith or an action.

That may be part of my problem. Many of the people I’m interested in want to be friends and then see where it goes. Which is interesting to me because friendship for me is a slow process.
Further, I generally love my friends in an agapic way. So if you don’t want emotional attachment then neither friendship or dating is what is wanted.

What most consider friendship, I consider acquaintance. To me friendship comes with rights and obligations. Acquaintance is no strings. I’ll accept acquaintance from people I work with or share a single activity with.

But for someone interesting? Someone worth getting to know? I cannot understand why anyone would want less than true friendship, complete with agapic love. Why spend the time for less. Take a bloody chance. We are all so cautious with our hearts. We have all been burned. But pain is life. It is necessary for growth. And failing all else, it is experience.

Which is what living is all about. I’m not saying you should accept risks beyond your limits but we all need to have a little more confidence in ourselves and learn what those limits are.

Love, experience, learn, repeat. Life is devastatingly, brutally beautiful.
Risk and chance, chance and risk.

Sometimes it’s as easy as falling, sometimes we must screw up our courage and jump.