Sometimes moaning you’re name just isn’t enough when the moment is over. I want you to feel your name when I say it. There are times you really need to be here. Closed eyes and fantasies are no longer serving their purpose. I want the weakened flesh. I wish you were here….
I would never ask more from you than I am willing to give. I’ve never been an unfair lover. A selfish lover, but never unjust. Never too over powering. Never too much. Because just the right amount is enough. The right amount of? Well, isn’t that the beauty of lovers? The discoveries that are made, the stories that are shared. The right amount is dependent upon how well the bodies connect. How much they connect. The frequency and vibrations. The lover in me is a reflection of you.
The beauty of our relationships not only lie in the mistakes we make but in the way we handle the endings/beginnings. At least, I think so. When I look at them I remember why I believe so much in love and life. When I look at them I am remembering what love looks like, what love is and who love is. What pushes me and is what pushes them farther away from each other. So many parts of us wither away from the lack of understanding, the lack of compassion, the lack of foundation. I’ll always be the first to say I really don’t know much about shit, but, I do know many are living their lives as fools because holding on is always easier than letting go. Because when we let go, then what? What happens next? Is there a next? It’s the unknown that we all struggle with, all of us. But what fun is living life as a fool when you could lie your burdens down and be free? There should never be expectations when it comes to human behavior. Never. I think when it comes to teaching acceptance as a virtue, keeping in mind that fucked up shit happens, and how you move forward is your graduating ceremony. Whenever I look at them I am reminded of my favorite sci-fi movie “what dreams may come”. The movie of a man that loses his kids one day and dies the next day, only to have his wife commit suicide. But he speaks/lives through her paintings. He goes from heaven (because suicides go to hell, according to this movie) to save her from an eternity of hell but she doesn’t recognize him. It’s not until he begins to lose his mind that she begins to remember him. But it’s too late, his risked paradise to be by her side because he believed they were soulmates. In the end, he wakes up back in paradise with her next to him, he was brave enough to risk it all because he believed in their love. Do you believe in soulmates? I never did until I began to really watch them, watch them grow, watch them create and save each other over and over again. All the ways they would risk paradise for each other, I watched them become. Their eyes would light up and I’ve watched her speak life into him so many times, in so many ways. The revival of his spirit. The beauty in her being. The beginning of their love is always worth writing about. Their ending has been their best performance. With every great story, even the greatest formation of well-rounded, thorough characters things happen. Love fades and changes and regresses and hurts and sometimes love does the unthinkable. My parents are a modern day tragedy. Soulmates. Two fools living in a world without each other. Whenever I look at them I am reminded why “what’s next” should be the core of my marriage&family practice, because, what is next now that the hurts there. “What’s next” is the pillar to healing. Do we live this life alone or, should we attempt to be brave one last time and ask each other “what’s next”?
My articulation of the situation is not that well-defined, at least to me. The reduction of purely the physical is just not fair to you or to me. There’s more than just the taste of flesh that keeps me reaching out to you. There’s more than just delighted moans that escape in the middle of nights. There’s so much more and I keep limiting you to just these boundaries. It’s to keep the complications of such causalities to a minimum. I am still a woman, an emotionally deprived woman, but nonetheless a woman who has found much more than just sexual comfort in the warmth of your arms. I can clarify any misunderstandings that may arise and keep pacifying you with simple responses, but here I go, when given the opportunity to express myself I shy away and remain defensive. A certain level of protection is needed to continue on this way and the only way I can manage is to keep things the way they are through the maintenance of boundaries. But the truth? The truth is I need you in order to remain sane, in order to remain true to myself because you keep alive the femininity to my being. Does that make sense? With you I reach higher, deeper because you force me to and motivate me. There’s inspiration behind your words and your kisses. You unlock doors for me that would have remained shut had I never took the time to travel with you to lands that were forgotten. To lands that were neglected, you carried a passion that began to nurture and nourish the soil. Fresh soil feels like silk between fingers and I remembered how revived I felt the moment the lands began to taste water. You inspire growth. You inspire passion and a tenderness that I need. And it’s hard for me to let that go because I want to forever belong to you, because I never want to have days were I can’t look over to see the liveliness of all that you are. You are a production. A motion that allows me to feel free. I am free. I am me. And I always want to feel this way.
There were things that needed to be done today. Right lower side of my head began throbbing at my never ending to do list this morning. Stress headaches have been a thing for me lately. A little overwhelmed with all that is going on currently with work, school and life. I get so tired at work sometimes. The only thing that lowers the anxieties of the paperwork is making sure I take a few minutes out of my day to spend time with you. My sister gave me this great idea now that I have this new office at work. No windows. Door is always locked. My silver friend I hide at the bottom of my bag. I can enjoy you just as you're enjoying yourself. I even maintain eye contact during the time we spend. Lunch breaks have become seconds of pleasure lately. They serve as reminders on my phone that I mustn't forget that I am a sexual woman who, is fully aware of herself and her body's capabilities. There's a magic to your being. It's in your ability to teach me over again. To instruct me and force me to pull myself out. You invoke that side of me. The side of me in which I am deeply consumed by. The side of me that I love and cherish, adore. It's the me that I love. The me that you acknowledge. It's in your voice. The look in your eyes. I feel sexy. I write about you so often, in short paragraphs to mimic the short burst of time I get with you now. I haven't been able to write in full depth because I need all of you to help inspire and force me to reconnect with myself. There's parts of you that I want to belong to. The physical meshes beautifully with you and I wonder what other doors could be unlocked. But, I remain at bay with certain things because, well, nobody wants to get hurt I suppose. It's hard to unsee the beauty in vulnerability the moment you tip me open, that is what is so addicting. Because the small tastes of your lips always leave me wanting more. The body never lies and I've been repeating that same sentiment for a while. I met you, well, accidentally discovered you through old post and war stories of old lovers. What an unlikely connection, don't you think? That the universe would create it so that the freedom I needed would transpire through you.
Again, videos or pictures won't do it justice. You need to go visit. It's inviting your sexuality to be explored. Go in, get aroused and speak freely into your partners' ear about the naughty things you want to do when you get home. I encourage it!