what you say

Words. Your words, they affect me. They roll around in my head for days, and months. Each time I bring them forward in my mind and relive them. Sometimes they affect a private smile and no one knows why. I sit in a bored, crowded room with silent people as we pass time waiting for something, some appointment, some service and I smile. The mundane event is now a repeat of the place and time you first spoke your words to me.

Some words tickle me on the inside and I blush. Other words caress my inner ear. Often I feel them rolling around my belly. Sometimes they even tingle. I love what you say. I love you.

all it's ever been

No one else came before you, it has always been you. In the depths of my being I feel you. Permeating my mind, my body, you are everywhere. And have been in all ways. My life has been re-imagined and it is your face that fills my memories, your voice that resonates in my thoughts and dreams as though it has forever been thus. Time before has blended with the time that is now.

You replace all that was, the past is dimly lit with other recollections, replaced with your glowing love. I am more foolish now in this middle age, laughing at myself freely. Throwing away the ridiculous restraints of youth I can embrace everything with abandon. I embrace you with my youthful heart. I drop inhibitions like a robe around my feet and emerge in wholeness and abandon, just you and me exist, have always existed.

What I thought was love before was not, it was the apprenticeship.

paintings

I love to read love stories. I love to dream of love stories. I love to write about love. I can do all of these things myself but, I cannot draw about love. I leave that to people who are talented. A website that I enjoy is:

The collection includes so many beautiful paintings and drawings. I thought I would share it.

http://www.bonzasheila.com/welcome.html

Insomnia

Ah, she arrives, Insomnia. She is here again, knowing that I desire sleep but she has her own agenda and my yearning for the warm blanket of sleep means nothing to her. I lay in my bed, listening to the tranquil sounds of the sleeping breaths of others. The dog at my feet has her tiny little breathes, my love has his deeply satisfying, lung filling breathes. Through the slit in the window the trees are sighing their nightly rustle and in she glides. Insomnia has arrived and begins flitting around my mind. She tickles a thought here and touches a memory there. Winging here and there she taps ideas, musings, hopes, speculations, feelings, notions, and ideas. She likes the activity. She wants all of them to be awake together, running together, holding hands and skipping through my mind. She shakes her finger at Sleep, "Go away." she says.

I think that if I lay still and breathe deeply I can chase her away. I try to emulate my love's gentle breaths, in...and...out, in...and...out. Stealthily I paint a picture in my head of waves lapping a beach, of leaves rustling in their branches while I whisper to Sleep, "come back, come back". Insomnia catches me, winks at me and says, "No, I have been waiting all day to play!" Sleep slinks away. Coward.

We used to be mortal enemies. Once I cringed at her entrance, I fought her. Food, drink, TV, books, music were thrown at her. Wanting to crush her I even tried to drown her with alcohol. For such a tiny thing she was much more powerful. 2 AM came and I resented her. 4:30 AM would arrived and I wanted to smash her. Throughout the day I would resent her and vow that I would conquer her, somehow she was going to leave. I would throw her off the cliff of my mind. She is mighty. I learned to succumb. Now I humor her.

As my household drifts into the wondrous world of sleep I am left alone in the gray night, the lone wakeful one surrounded by slumber. The wind blows in my psyche and she arrives bringing her whirlwind. Thoughts are tossed about like a child going through a toy box. They scramble together. A memory from fourth grade meets an idea from yesterday. Remembrances of a long ago past dance with visions of today. Insomnia skips in and out, joining one with another. I store these joinings. There is now a notebook in my head and then after I finally sleep and wake again another day I take them and create. No longer my nemesis, she is now my muse.

two hurts

When you hurt, my heart flutters in companion with yours. The anguish you feel is in my belly too. Your agony courses through me in tandem with yours. Your tears meld with mine. With you I gasp for air trying to push this ache away. Turning my head away in disbelief, shaking. I am with you in that pit, clawing, scraping to get out of the wretchedness. We are tied, you and I, bonded from the beginning of your life. Wherever you are, my arms stretch to catch you up and pull you close, shelter you from the harm that is being thrust upon you. I am in that abyss with you where colors have faded, smells are gone, worldly noises are static and meaningless. Black and grey swirls around us in this Mordor of heartache. I know. I feel. You are not plodding on this rocky path alone.

But I want to harm them. I want to come crashing at them, growling, snarling with murderous intent. Those that dare to hurt the ones I love risk much. My nature is protection for you at my own peril. From that bear state I want to cradle you in fairy arms and lift you to my nest, sooth you before you go back to life. You will go back and you will persist. I am the cocoon from which you emerge to one day replace me for your own creation.

trepidation

Awake again, in the middle of the night, the world is sleeping, you are sleeping. You are breathing so smoothly, quietly... I am thinking of you. I want to touch you and caress your skin. Maybe glide my hand on your arm. I would like to play with your hair, nuzzle in the flesh across your back, slide my feet along your legs but you are sleeping. Waking you seems so taboo, sleep is so precious. Many nights I lay next to you in our bed and dream of you while you are in the sweet world of dreams. Last night I invaded your dreams and touched you softly until you stirred. Like a fern unfurling I awoke you and felt you respond gratefully. So many more nights I desire you but hold back with trepidation, dare I awake my sleeping prince? Will he tire of my nightly desires?

comfort/insomnia

There is no solitude quite like 1:47 am or 2:43 am. We are certainly alone at this time. Comforting voices are asleep in other rooms, other beds, in other places. Images, ideas and thoughts play and replay around in our heads to be shared with no one but ourselves. Floor boards creak, wind rustles leaves, clocks tick, partners and children breath in and out, sleeping the sleep that we crave. Rewind, play back, the thoughts merry-go-round in my mind, over and over. They will seem light in the morning but now they are vivid and heavy, demanding to acknowledged over and over. A commercial that annoyingly repeats itself, yes, I heard you you.

So I touch your skin. I lightly brush your arm. I nuzzle my face in your back. I lightly kiss your shoulder. Some comfort is there for me. Maybe if I lay closer to you your blanket of sleep will cover me too and then we can be in dream world together. Insomnia no longer imprisons me the way it once did because I have you. Even in the silence of the night you give me comfort. HA! Take that, Insomnia. I have a defense against you! My lover brings me peace in this abyss you create. It is dark, quiet but no longer lonely because of him. His body laying next to me here in your sleep deprived cave keeps me warm. I gather strength from the contentedly sleeping man next to me. Even in his soundless state he supports me and you don't drain me anymore.

still holding you

Now you are larger than me but I still hold you in my arms. I still see your tiny face and remember your tiny fingers. You may even have your own tiny one, yet I still your eyes staring back at me from the security of my arms. I still remember the sweaty scent from a little head resting on my shoulder. There are your eyes looking up at me and me looking at you adoringly. No man feel this and I am sad for them. This is only ours.

young

On a tangled mess the morning light peaks through the blinds. Does it see the image I have in my head? The one of us surrounded by crumpled sheets and blankets falling to the floor? The vision in my head is, me, lying in what you call 'the after glow', blissfully and unabashedly naked. I see a young man laying next to me without the lines and scars of a full life on his body and I hope he sees a young woman in love, not the one with body gently ravaged by life, the imperfect one I see in the mirror after I shower. I haven't been here before in this place of abandon. I don't need to pull the covers up over me. Every muscle is relaxed, even the ones that are tense the rest of the day, my blood is quietly flowing through me, a little fairy telling every cell to rest now, warmth blows gently over my skin. I have indulged myself again in you. The smell of you, the sight of you, the taste of you, the sound of you.

your hands

Sometimes, when you don't know it I am looking at you. I am gazing at your finger tips. I am remembering where they have been, how they touched me, I think of my secret places they have known. I look at your legs exposed from the bottom of your shorts while you are driving and I call to mind when they were entwined with mine. When I see your nose I think of it at the back of my neck. I glance at you as you walk across a room and relive you taking me into your arms. I shiver when you are talking to me of common things because your voice reminds me of whispered things. Lover's whispers in my ear that no one else has heard. The sight of your mustache gives me ghostly tickles when I turn to see you while we watch a movie, reminiscing the light brush it gave me just hours before. Sometimes I quiver quietly to myself when I see your arm exposed in the sun. How many times has that arm brought me to you to be caressed and kissed by you? I steal glances of you when you are cooking for me and I see your hands, your amazing, wonderfully strong hands that easily take my chin and bring my lips to your mouth with tenderness.

You think I am simply sitting beside you watching TV or across from you eating a meal but there is more...... I am experiencing you again and again. Lovemaking never ends for me it continues long after we have left our bed.

laughing

It isn't all you think it is, sometimes it comes down to laughter, just simple laughter, straight from the gut. Sure kissing is nice and hugging and holding hands, all that normal romantic stuff but sometimes laughter is the best love potion there is. If I can make you laugh from your belly I feel wizardly. My powerless little being has become a giant and I can release what is inside of you. Hearing your laughter roll through my ears and go down in my heart creates a joy inside of me. Another facet of love is uncovered. Laying quietly as we fall asleep you begin to chuckle and remind me of how I made you laugh, I smile because I know that I have secured my place in your mind. Years from now you will think of it again and I will be the one who made you laugh and you will remember how I brought happiness to you.

Really, sex and laughter do go very well together, and I wondered- and still do- which is more important. Hermione Gingold

chameleon

It isn't me, it's really you, you are responsible for what you see. Being with you transforms me into the woman you see. Your touch softens my skin. Your eyes see me beautiful. I come alive when you are near, no longer gray I become rosy with life and love. Like a chameleon I blend in with my surroundings, you surround me with the colors of love.

cloak

I wear the beautiful cape of red velvet, lined with silk in shades of nature that you gifted me. Securely it en-robes me, I walk through the streets with it on and people can see it only through my smiles. It has the lightness of a breeze. When I move it glides with me lightly touching my skin and my heart. Wrapped my in cloak I approached you but in that dark room it was merely gray and you could not see me. You said you could smell my scent as I got closer. As a cat waits for a mouse or a blossom waits for the morning sun you laid patiently. I relied on touch and scent to find you. I stood above you feeling your heart call to mine, faintly it whispered to me and I heard its calling. With one deft sweep of my arm I enclosed us both with my cloak, your gift. Soon we were enveloped together. I saw you with my finger tips, I felt you with my ears, I heard you with my nostrils. The absence of light shut my eyes and opened my mind to parts of you I had not felt before.

If I woke up next to you

I'm going to a new place in my mind and I am trying to sort it out...

After the evening is spent in playing and exploring the morning comes floating into my dreams. I do not open my eyes and I lay quietly within myself. I am laying naked next to my  lover and once I open my eyes everything that had been a dream will be real. Do I want the dream to end and reality to begin? Keeping my eyes shut I allow my mind to relive once more before the day begins. You are still sleeping and I am torn, let you continue your dreams or wake you up and make more.

Rolling on my side I open my eyes to your body and caress it with my eyes. The white flesh gently rising with your breath. I reach my fingers out and softly stroke your skin, beautiful, light, soft. Your stirring cause tingling my body. Opening your eyes I see you smile at me. Reality will be as beautiful as the night.

snow

Laying within the warm abundance of blankets, I look out the window from the pitch darkness of our room into a scene of quiet chaos. A beautiful chaos of snow flakes bursting through a velvety black sky. I know that it must be very cold out there for snow to form and blow through the air but in here with you, that chilling feeling is unimaginable. The fire is dying but the warmth between us will sustain us through the night. I love to watch the snowflakes when they are flying at night. Snow falling in the day is beautiful but at night- mystical. I am reliving the walk we had. Bundled in winter clothing we walked together, our boots crunching the ground beneath us. Nighttime snow walks are eerily wonderful, so quiet that the sound of a zipper tightening up is loud. We kissed out there too, the contrast between our warm lips and cold cheeks was sweet. The little snow crystals are crashing gently onto our noses. Now here we are looking at those crystals from a safer, warmer vantage point, snuggled together. I will fall asleep on your chest while the tiny beads pile up out side, burying us in our haven.

leaving

Gingerly, reluctantly, I withdraw from your sleepy embrace and leave your bed. I leave behind the warmth and I quietly endeavor to dress myself and leave your love, only temporarily. I will be back but now in this morning darkness I am sad. I leave this place of love and passion and the cold air hits my face, snow flakes are falling in the early morning dimness. The road opens for me to travel, snow drops delicately falling on my windshield. I think of you still in that place where we lay. Pressing my finger tips to my nose, I can still smell your scent.  I hear your whispers in my ears still. Your words are swirling through my mind. Songs pass through my lips. I drive on, I have left behind my heart and soul but soon I will be back to reclaim them. Perhaps when you are moving through your day, moving through our separation you come across my heart in little places here and there. Perhaps you see my soul in spaces no one else can see. That is why I leave them, for you so that you will not miss me too much. Soon, very soon I will come back for them. Then all will be right. These separations are temporary disturbances. The opposite of leaving is returning. Leaving only strengthens my desire for you. Leaving allows me to dream of you. The days will shorten and the return journey will begin. The cycle continues.

Absence diminishes little passions and increases great ones, as a wind extinguishes candles and fans a fire.
Francois de La Rochefoucauld

bed

This structure we call bed, what a marvelous place it is. Refuge, sanctuary, love nest, family space, solitude, library, recovery, bliss. Slipping between the sheets, blankets flowing over my body, wrapping me in warmth, pillow beneath my head, what rapture. Then you enter and we entwine, cocooned within the covers. I love the softness of the mattress and how it conforms to my curves, no pressure on my bones. Bed means contentment. Beautiful things come from the bed, romance, intimacy love and even sometimes the sweetest result of love, a tiny infant in your arms.

consume

It's really more like a thunderstorm when you fall. A rumble starts from beneath your feet and it jumps to your chest. Now your heart beats a bit faster and you breathe deeper. You want to sit closer, stay longer. Another human begins to consume you, your thoughts, your feelings, completely consume you. And you allow it, willingly, you desire to be consumed, body and soul by this person. Storms pour water around you and it feels like a light spring shower. Take me. Your love is now in my pores, in my blood.

Soft Blackness

I like to lay next to you long after you are asleep and listen to you breathe and softly touch your arm or your shoulder. The room is so dark, just squares of gray on the walls where the moon light seeps in through the windows.  I cannot see where you are, just feel you and hear you. Quietly I lay thinking of the ways you touch me not just physically but how you touch my heart, how you trickle into my thoughts. Serene warmth flows through me, I savor this time. You move and cradle me within your body, skin to skin. Filled with your affection I settle into sleep, the sleep of love.

pleasant disturbance

A disturbance is moving through my atmosphere. Electric current travels through my body, one current running on top of my skin, faintly tickling my flesh. Another current is running wildly through the inside of me, bursting here and there, converging in my own slice of heaven. Your warm breath fans the fire while your moisture cools it. Feelings are so intense my chest tries to expand to let in more oxygen, so I gasp for air, air that I will need to sustain my strength, or should I say weakness, for you are my weakness and I am made willing weaker by your tongue.

The confluence of heat and dew spark, I shiver and throb and thrill and writhe, I am out of control and depend on you for mercy and fulfillment. Slowly, gently, the flow of current ebbs, just a warm full feeling is left, the feeling of contentment.

Paint

Colors will blend on the canvas very soon. Preparation is necessary first. Some artist can work quickly but the fine artist is one who is slow and thoughtful. Two tubes of paint waiting to be transformed, right now they are alone and waiting to be partnered into a picture of passion. Grumbacher Thio Violet, Green Deep. Flake White and Indigo Black will make a small appearance also.

A puddle of Violet is released on the pallet and a large pond of white lands beside it. Green Deep is next to be squeezed on to the pallet. With a brush in hand the artist rolls her brush in white and allows a healthy portion to hitch a ride then she moves to Thio Violet and lightly brushes the purple onto the white. Poised over the canvas she thinks about where to start the painting, should it be a bold swath across diagonally or perhaps slowly blend up. Her hand is drawn to the bottom and she spreads her brush slowly across the bottom of the canvas, left to right. A wave of white flows across the bottom and streaks of violet run through it. With deft brushes the artist caresses the two paints to blend, white enveloping the purple, cradling it, lifting it, sometimes softening the purple into a light lilac and sometimes leaving the purple vibrant on its own.

As Thio Violet becomes accustomed to the white sea, the artist takes her brush away, wipes it on a soft rag. Taking another generous portion of white she adds a dip of green to the brush and brings the two back to the canvas. Studying the canvas she places her brush in the upper right portion, hesitates but presses the brush on the canvas. She is committed now, the only place for the brush to go is gliding across the canvas to the opposite corner.

Thio Violet sees Green Deep sliding down the surface as though falling from a cloud. Her purple thoughts reach for, long to be near Green. Sensing her need the artist uses another brush to join the two colors together. Streaks of Green now collide with stripes of Violet. Both colors are floating in the White sea on delicate waves. Sometimes Green is soft next to a bold Violet but then sometimes Green is mellow and gentle showing a soft shade of Green.

To give depth to drama unfolding the artist gently dabs lines of Ivory Black in the sea, lightly touching Violet and Green Deep here and around. Brush strokes are made, more Green and Violet are blended and soon the painting is complete. The artist leans back and is satisfied with her efforts.

My Promise

There will be a day in the very near future when you will feel one hundred percent better.
There will be a time very soon when this will be behind you and you will be stronger.
There will be a moment when you will be in me.
I will feel all of you deep within me and you will feel me beneath you, pressing into your heart,
I will let go, you will let go, and you will know that after your long journey you are finally home.

If Snape Fell In Love

I must admit that I will never get Severus to splash in puddles with me. He isn't that kind of man. Which is precisely why I love him! Oops did I say that? Yes, and he said it to me to night! I have felt in my heart that he does but was hoping he would admit it to me and he finally did. I am the happiest which at Hogworts, no, in the world.

I had asked him to look at a few plants because they did not appear to be healthy, I thought perhaps he might a suggestion of a potion. While I was correcting papers he came to my office, quietly poked his head through my open door and asked if he may speak with me.

I know some of the others think it is a bit unnerving, that he seems to just quietly appear out of nowhere but I think it is very polite of him actually. If you have nothing to hide why should it matter who comes upon you?

While he was examining the plant, I thought to adjust the light for him to see it better. Of course I stumbled and brushed against him. He grabbed my arm to steady me but kept holding onto me even after I was stable. I look in those hypnotic dark eyes and couldn't look away. He was staring at me, his eyes were moving around my features, stopping to pause for a few seconds on each ones. As his eyes fell on my lips (the ones I was biting I must admit) he bent over and kissed my lips. He held my arm still in his hand and kept his lips against mine, delicately warm, softly moving on my lips so that I had to respond softly back. In my head I was awash in a soft fog, my eyes closed tightly, hoping the moment would never end. He brought his other arm around me and held me tight, placing soft short kisses all over my face, around my ears and then he completely embraced me, returning his lips to mine and we kissed tenderly, sometimes our lips gently parting. After awhile he pulled away from me placed his hand behind his back and said, “I believe... I ….love you, Miss Bushnell. I hope that I have not done anything imprudent, to harm our.... relationship”

cat in catnip

I am rolling around in you. Fragrance wafts around me and deep into my conscious and I giggle. There is so much of you, your vast plane so pleasing to my senses. Gliding over you, my skin touching yours, hearing your pulse, tasting your saltiness, seeing your tanned flesh, the scent that is only yours. I want to wallow in you without end. Not until something happens, I want to wallow in you boundlessly, uninhibitedly, irrationally, blissfully. Gently gliding my paws up and padding across your chest, bringing my lips a hair's breathe from yours, then flitting my tongue on them. This is just the beginning, soon my lips will have tasted you everywhere with my hands alongside, gently caressing you. I am the cat and you are indubitably my weakness.

you, in my head

Fog, smoke, steam, scent. That is how you are in my head and my body. You permeate everything, I cannot help but breath you in because you surround me. I take you with me every where I go. Flowing through my blood stream, a seemingly innocuous phenomenon, you fill every molecule. I can see you when you are not here, I can taste you when are not here. I simply breathe and you are with me. In your presence I am content. You are with me when I stand still looking at a flowing stream. Your presence is in the music circulating through my ears.

    How did it happen? Why? Did I give you permission to come into my heart? Did you beguile me and charm me into letting you in? I think so. You enticed me with your words, your beauty, your scent. And here you are, living inside of me. Here with me, even when you are not. Did you smile to yourself when you felt me succumb to you? I think so. I carry that smile with me, on my own lips. I walk through stores smiling. I lay in my bed, alone and I am smiling.  I drive in my car and I smile, feeling your touches still lingering on my skin.

    My patience and faith led me here. I was distracted and left my gate ajar and you slipped in. First your cerulean eyes beckoned and I was curious. Then your voice closed the door behind me. My lungs took a deep breath and plunged further and there I was in your arms. Your softly strong arms. Arms that I feel caressing my shoulders while I write this and you are far away.

Napoleon said to Josephine, “I have seen only, I have admired only you, I have desired only you.” I add, “I have breathed only you.”

hope

When I left my sandals off I did not think the stone floor would be so cold. With only my habit on I am shivering with cold or maybe it is my fear. My body is cold from the inside out, I am trembling. It is her that will make me well again when I feel the warmth of her. Traveling these old halls, I have been here all my life, well, the life that I remember. Since I was brought here by a very old man I have lived in this place, this crumbling old castle that has also been a monastery and an abbey. The halls have heard my footsteps from tiny toddler footsteps navigating, to older ones in their sparse sandals as they travel from prayer to task to those of my newly adult steps. I am considered adult now and I will soon be taking my vows. I have not known any other life, or love or affection. Any human contact has been perfunctory or not allowed. We do not talk here, share stories or feelings. We serve only God.

       I do not feel different. I feel as I have always, curious, happy, safe and secure. I did not think there was anything else so I made my world happy. The only difference between child and adult is that I must make a permanent choice on the path of my life but how could I have made any other choice? Prayers and religious work is all I have done. I have never even been outside the walls of this old building. But... something has been missing, I did not know what it was until she was brought here. She and her companions are  traveling to another abbey. When we met in the kitchen to prepare food I felt that her soul reach out to me. To me, not to God. How could that be? Desires I did not know existed are now coursing through me. Excitement enters my veins when I see her pass in the hall. Is this friendship? Is it love? I do not know but I must find out and so I take this risk. Out of my room wandering the halls could bring me the lash. I am willing to risk it.

       One more turn and I will be near her door, the walls I am touching to guide my path in the dark are smooth, years of humans have passed through here, touching and walking the very spot I am. I did not dare to take a candle with me, someone is always up, they would see the light and find me here, naked in just my habit, bare head and bare feet. I should go back now, this moment, before it is too late. I won't. Not even fear of the punishment can make me go back- we will not be found out! We will not. How can something that makes one feel so happy be so wrong. God would not do that to his children.

       Here it is and I can smell the faint scent of lavender that she pinned to the door. We had agreed upon this so that I may be sure I am at the right door in the blackness of the castle night. Scratching slightly on the door I hear her scratch back and then quietly, excitedly she opens her door and I creep in. I grab her hand in the darkness and she grips mine in return. Softly we slide to her tiny cot and sit down together. We kiss each others hands in the darkness. With the blackness of night I am a blind person. I caress and kiss her smooth delicate skin, there is a faint scent of lavender on them. I have only touch and smell as we cannot see and we cannot speak.

       We slip closer to each other, I can feel her little trembles through her habit. We clumsily find each others face and I smooth her hair away from her face and she slips her delicate fingers behind my neck. Due to my vows I no longer have hair. Soon her head will be shaved also to honor our God. After several attempts we find each others lips. Her lips so moist, so thick and I kiss them passionately. She timidly returns mine and I hold her closer, assuring her with my arms around her that she is safe with me.

       Kissing no longer satisfies me. I have to feel her, touch her, know her. I gently pull at her habit and she helps me to take off my habit. We slip under her thin blanket and hold each other,  I kiss her cheeks, her nose and nuzzle my face in her neck. She eagerly returns her passion to me and I am emboldened, I begin to explore the rest of her body. Because she is so timid she follows my lead and caresses my body. Now I am done, I can never return to my place, laying with her there can be no future in this place. I only desire a future with her.

       We have both been deprived, since childhood. We did not grow up with mothers and fathers and siblings. We both have only known this religious life. Why did no one tell me of this thing, this passion that is coursing through my blood? The feel of her skin, her smell and now her taste. I wash her with my tongue. I want to taste every part of her. I want to lay with her every day of my life. This is magic that is in the room. The world does not exist outside her door.

       She caresses me and delicately strokes my thighs. I want to scream in ecstasy. I feel her warm breath on my body and I touch her and desire her flesh. I want to possess her but I do not yet realize that she already possesses me. We are done, I will die if I have to part from her for even a day. I hear the sound of small animals outside the window, creatures from the forest. That is where we should be together. I try to whisper in her ear of my love for her but she quiets my mouth with her finger tips. Finally we join together and are released. I lay next to her listening to the sound of her gentle breathing.

       Strength and will power help to put my habit back on and slip out of her room. Stealing down the corridors I find my way back to my room, my lonely cot in a dark and dank building. I awake with a start. I can hear voices in the yard below my window. When  look out I see the nuns are leaving us and returning to their journey. She is with them. They leave and the gate is closed behind them. I fall to the ground as my heart sinks into my gut. She has left me. Any hope I had has left and I will be stuck in this religious order for the rest of my life. A priest, a lonely priest.

tree and vine

A delicate fragrant vine that curls and coils and furls around you, soft petals caress your skin, leaves tickle you.

A big strong tree with rough bark seems so invulnerable but the tree quivers.

Tree limbs hold the vine tightly but never choking, the vine responds by gliding up, around, gently lifting, slightly squeezing.

“I am yours. Take me, love me, I will always cover you with love.” the vine whispers so only the tree hears the promise.

“Sometimes I am rough, I do not always understand my strength, I hold you in my boughs and promise to shade you and support you.”

“Together we make a small world, my flower caressing your limb, your leaves touch my stems and shake me to my roots.”

“I will step lightly around your roots but stand firm beside you.”

sometimes love is sad

Torrents of rain from the sky pour down to meet the waves as they touch the beach. Today there is only one creature willing to withstand the worst of the storm on the beach. The sea animals are far out at sea. The sand crabs have buried themselves deep in the safety of the beach; broken pieces of seaweed are strewn about the sand. The lone creature is a solitary man walking slowly along the edge of the water. Oblivious to the wet, brutal weather, he is not in a hurry to get away.  The storm has attracted him and it is trying to engulf him and take him as one of its own. Walking close to the waves his boots and his leggings are drenched but he stays near the water, taunting it, daring it to grab him. Wind whips his cape around his body but he keeps his arms, fists clenched, firmly at his sides.  In the midst of the cold spray of rain and ocean waves crashing the only warmth is hot tears stinging down his face. He will not wipe them away. All around him is gray and blue, the ocean, the waves, the sky, the sand. His body and his mind are gray and blue. Cold is seeping in his body. Wet hair now plastered to his head drips into his eyes. He feels he will never be warm again. Kicking at waves and seaweed, his feet are wet but he continues. He will stay here in this frigid place until he is sick and cannot get well. Maybe he will just fall down and let the waves take him out, away from the agony of his heart. The sobbing and crying will not cease and his body quakes and shivers as he instinctively gasps for air. There are cries of desolation from his throat. She is gone but he is here. She has no pain but he is in agony. No one answers his questions, no one can. Pleading, begging, for answers he then bargains for his own life, take it away, it is no good anymore. Wind rushes down from the cliff and takes his cries away out to the ocean. No one will hear those words now or ever. Dropping to his knees at the shoreline, there will be no dog or woman to rescue him. Ocean waves are lapping at his legs and calling to him like Sirens, “come we will take you now…”

What Would It Take

It would take a man with rough hands that’s to lift my spirits. I huge man with wide shoulders and an immense chest that I could burrow my head in until all of this was gone. Gone away for ever. His hands would be on my back holding me tenderly to him. A limp and spent fabric doll, no strength left, all that I would be able to do would be to let my head fall back and be consumed with kisses all over my neck. I can almost smell him, he would smell of cologne, spicy/sweet and maybe a tiny bit of sweat. I want someone to feel me again, know me, all my secrets, I want to melt into oblivion for hours. Hands and fingers touching me, feeling me, massaging my aching flesh. How my skin hurts, waiting in anguish for human touch.
Floating under your warm body I am starving for sustenance so I arch my hips to meet yours. You have the power to release these pains that have been controlling my body. My lungs will be full of air, a sensation that has been lost for years, I will hold my shoulders back to let more air in them and to let more of you on me. What is this feeling in my head? The vice that was squeezing my brain is gone, the rope around my neck does not burn, my shoulders have released neck and my neck has released my head. They can flow easily. No longer are they a single, solid unit. Strands of ribbon have become my arms, free from their tyrant Stress. I do not know where I end and you begin. I am consuming you.
A willowy, wispy figure in smoke is rising and swirling around. That is me, passion flowing outwards to wrap around you and hold you to me. I am bringing you into my folds, experiencing you inside, outside of me. You think you are taking me but it is I who is taking you. My spirit cloaks you with warmth and love. This passion cannot be without love. You must love me as I do you, open you eyes, look at me, speak with your eyes while you are consuming me.

blue eyes

I open my eyes into a sea of blue. Enveloped in warmth, the sensation of gentle sunshine all over my skin. Your cocoon arms swaddle me. We are gently rolling together as one. One single being, sole existence in the world. Visually touring your body, my eyes glide over your flesh. Why wasn’t it like this in the other lives?

Peachy

I feel dee-licious. I feel just like a tree fresh, plump, juicy peach. I know that I am pleasing to your senses and I love knowing it. Feel how I get softer as you insinuate yourself in me. I am honored by desire for me.

Delicious Secrets

Delicious secrets from you to me. Delicious secrets that I can taste over and over again. Taste lingers in my brain and I am fulfilled again. Only you. Only I. Words spoken in my ear, whispered to me, only to me. The smells, the feelings, sights cannot be tasted by anyone else. Like smooth chocolate rolling in my mouth, your secrets are delicious. I am hungry for more. Feed me.