Of pure joy. great sadness. remorse. euphoria. ecstasy. divine revelation. union. peace. turmoil. exhaustion.
Only a few tears left my eyes when a tsunami was raging inside. I wanted to sob and be held. I wanted to throw my head back and howl with laughter. I wanted the pure emotion of love.
My list feels neglected. I feel neglected. Even though for some strange reason hope is trying to find surface. Hope for something.
I had a flash of the last few moments with my mom. My slow steps down the quiet hall of our home. The sound of the oxygen machine pumping. My sisters voice barely calling out my name. Me realizing that I was just inside of her doorway when her life slipped away. The brush of fingers passing through my hair.
All of these things as I stared up at the popcorn ceiling of my apartment. Each breath ice fire in my chest.
There was this moment
It happens more often than not. We forget who we are, the sensual creatures we can be. Getting lost in the desire of your lovers eyes. Or letting the energy of someone else’s touch flow through you. We forget to feel the sensation of love and get hung up in all the trappings. We let the ribbons and bows become the gift and not one another.
So blindly we seek, someone’s wrapping whose match our own. We let those things become what we place our hopes on. We allow ourselves to believe the bits of the real gift inside will change if they would only let us add a different shade of ribbon. If we can change the way they look to us, if we can manipulate actions and words to something we desire. If.
If only we knew the injustice of denying someone who they truly are. The heartbreak in loving an idea.
I’d gotten into the habit of giving myself an orgasm to fall asleep. Which isn’t so terrible really. Except now, it’s so boring. My fantasy ranges from below average kink to, even -making-me-cringe bizarre. Each one became a struggle towards climax. A pillow over my eyes blocking everything out, as I forced myself to focus on the task. I’d even begun denying myself penetration because of the squirty mess. Who has time for washing sheets everyday?
But you see what’s missing right? The desire.
It’s happening oh so frequently.
So, yesterday, when I had a beautiful man underneath me. His thick cock inside of me. It was overstimulated, glorious sex. I’m still warm and fuzzy.
And today I’m buying a cello.
I lay in this bed and think of you. Here, next to me. The pillow still smells like you. It pleases me. I remember the curve of your cock as it slides down my throat. The small crooked smile when my tongue reaches further down. Teasing you. Coaxing your orgasm and then letting it recede. Only to bring it right back up again.
So, a part of me sleeps with you tonight. Wrapped up and cared for. The part of me that you’ve nurtured these long months.
The cycle of need continues to interrupt my life.
Some sort of partner to share things with.
My best friend who has been, ever by my side, is on a cataclysmic path. Selfish and destructive. There are no words I can say to her. My heart aches
I am constantly being reminded of things I couldn’t stand in a relationship.
Maybe I really just need to derail my one track mind. Accept this moment for what it is.