Hope is a fragile thing

I sat down to write a poem
Finding its measure wanting
And its rhythm trite
I end up here once again
Pondering this lack of sight

I find my interest waining
Not in writing
So much as life

Never having planned to come this far
I find myself forced
Made to contemplate a future
One I was certain would never come

I have all of the pieces but not the puzzle
All of the dreams but not the hopes
And the world fades out
But nothing yet fades in

On the verge of destruction
Waiting for the groundswell
A last minute effort
To give that last push

Nightmares are also dreams Part 17-Sara

The quiet sets in. Long seconds with only my heartbeat and the rush of blood through my ears to accompany the waiting…the anticipation…but first I tap out a yellow on the wall. Yellow for distress, yellow for, not stop but help.

The gag is unknotted and the soft warm cotton falls away.

Pel…Something in me whimpers with relief, its Pel.
Pel whispers, “Whatever could be wrong, my darkest night?”

Tension eases and the fear of moments…minutes?…before subsides.

“Bathroom please,” I whisper.

With a disappointed sigh Pel unlocks my restraints and stands me up. He does this economically with a minimum amount of touch and briefly I have this flash of what did I do wrong before I’m being marched to the bathroom. The blindfold stays on as he guides me to the toilet and sets me down.

The door closes and I’m alone but I dare not take off the blindfold. Instead I go pee and reach out by memory to get clean. Nothing has been moved thankfully and I am able to wash up without difficulty.

With the water running, I hear voices in the bedroom and I go still. Who is Pel talking to…I strain to hear but the muffled sounds through the door and the rushing water make that too indistinct.

When I shut off the water and knock on the door ready to go back, the voices have stopped. Maybe I was hearing things.

Again the hands that lead me to the bed and place the restraints back on are businesslike and without hesitation. Like I’m just meat. And that more than anything spikes my fear. Pel is constitutionally incapable of not kissing me when he touches me. At least on the palm of my hand or o to my neck, but never like this. Like I don’t matter…

Fuck fuck fuck

No words
Churning gut of worry
Wondering if you are ok
If you are hurt
If you need help
And can’t say
You say that it’s fine
But the word choices aren’t you
And the worry ratchets up
Are you under duress
Or is it some mood I haven’t seen
I’m inches away from doing something foolish
Or brave
You can never tell which
Until after

Other plans

I’m not looking for a different life
I’m looking for a life with you
I’m not running away
I’m running to

Yet here I am
this face
That slight smile
hiding the grimace
That rictis of pain
lurking just beneath the surface

Two interlaced
Pulled apart so slowly
Not a sound is made

Just a long drawn out scream slowed down
Sounds like wind
Howl of agony
Broken and warbling

Bled by hours
Glass falling from a high shelf
Seconds before impact
Just the panic
Before the pieces fly apart

Just…what…uh…no idea

I’m in a position now where I want so much to be holding in my arms the ones that I love. But I know that is either a distant future or a impossibility and I have to deal with that.

In a way it’s like a breakup but without the constant questioning and self recriminations. In this case I know the reasons. I just lament them.

Right now, I’m sad often and I don’t want to be but I also don’t know how to stop it my self.

I’ve been incredibly lucky to meet extraordinary people through my blog and though some hurt me, I still feel incredibly fortunate to have the chance to be with people who meet my mind first rather than the crucible of a dating site or a munch or something. Because, I’m not great at those.

Let’s be clear. I’m weird. I have odd notions and hobbies. I have strange views and see things differently. What the majority find interesting, I find mostly a nuisance. I point this out, not to set myself apart, but to demonstrate that I feel as if I’m a outsider.

When you add in BDSM and a preference for strong submissives, I find I’ve narrowed my interests perhaps too narrowly.

I’d love to say that such a narrow focus means that I find my way clear but really I’m all a muddle.

I scare people away because I’m intense and always seek clarity. Not because I am meek but because I can have a effect where I bowl someone over.
But then I just melt if someone says, “Yes, Sir,” and means it.

I don’t know where forward is. Or if I need to heal first. Or if I just need someone I love to look me in the eyes and say “Yes, I choose you” and mean it down to their bones.

Fresh squeezed heart, Now with more pulp

Its never enough. People either love you or they don’t and no matter how much you love them, how much you need to be the person to hold them, how much you want to protect them or keep them safe, it is never enough to change their minds. You could be amazing, intelligent, honorable and trustworthy. You could be learned and skilled in areas both carnal and not. And it still doesn’t matter. At the end of the night, they wave goodbye and walk into the arms of another. Or stand at such distance that, like an Escher painting, you never get closer.

Song of the day

I went looking for a song for the day, but nothing quite struck the right chord. I’m hopeful but tentative. I’m sure of my heart and desires but unsure about how those are perceived. I want to ask questions but am fearful of what those answers may be. I also was looking for something to uplift a give hope. I also think I’m seeing something but I’ve been wrong before and I don’t want to be wrong about this.

I almost picked Bastille – Flaws, because it speaks to our flaws but it also says that there is a hole in my soul, so close but not right. Maybe you have the right song? Tell me what song you like for the day.

Brain gone twisty

I will sometimes fumble a situation pretty badly and I can’t help myself and I’ll try to right the ship until I realize that I’m doing more damage than good. But that urge to keep going back and trying to fix it.

Even in those instances where it’s just my screwy brain giving me mixed signals. Because I think logically but guided by emotion. It’s a pretty delicate balance and when something goes twisty you’ll see an emotional shotgun post. But when the twisty involves someone I care for, In this case the goddess of my heart, it looks like uncertainty and chaos. With corrections and communications until I see what’s happening and apologize and back away. I don’t know what that looks like from her side. I hope its not too off-putting.

It is a two sided coin though. I can see when it’s happening with others and be their support until they are out of the woods.
I guess I just needed to talk it out. Thanks for reading.