Clairvoyance

I started writing this for you before I ever touched you. I couldn't have known how accurate it would be until I felt you in my arms, and you were even better than I imagined...

I can feel you from a thousand miles away, feel your breath on my ear and the air that escapes from your lips. Imagine that as you hover your face so close to mine that the warmth of your face radiates between us and I sync my breath, my heartbeat to yours, I close my eyes, invite your lips to mine. I can feel your fingers slide up my thigh, and glide gently around my hip to caress the small of my back, trace the outline of my body, find my waist in your hands.

I can close my eyes and see you here. How my heart aches to see you go, and how it flutters and skips with barely a glance and shudders with a jolt when you touch my skin. I love to see you watching me watching you and how the corners of your mouth turn up when you realize how fixated I am on you. How your eyes reflect that you know exactly what I look like, the curves of my frame beneath my insignificant clothes.

I can feel your weight coming down on me as my hands glide around your back, fingers arched, pressing deep into your flesh, smoothing over your skin, pulling you closer, deeper into me, into us. It's been so very long, and it feels like forever since I've felt a heart reaching into mine. I imagine I've pressed my lips so soft against yours and savored your flavor on the tip of my tongue. It's been forever since I've wanted to lace my fingers, intertwined my hand with another, since I've wanted to press that hand hard across the sheets.

I can feel my hand locked into yours, pressing into your pillows while I breathe the scent of your body, getting high from your essence. I'll trace my nose down your neck, onto your chest, inhaling every inch of you because I love to breathe you in. I'll run my fingers through your hair, trailing them along your jaw, and stare into your eyes. I'll pull you closer, close my eyes and breathe deeper than ever before because I love the way you smell, and I love the coolness of your skin, and I love the way I feel when you hold me so tight I can barely breathe. And in those moments, in your arms, I remember that I knew what this would be like before you ever were.

Muddy Sunday - 10thDoM If Geeks Ruled The World...

I'd rise above it all if I could, and sweep it all under the rug where no one ever looks. I'd drive hard into the sunlight with my radio blaring high, and love you without pain in my eyes. I'd run in all directions at once, and crawl across muddy puddles in my Sunday best. I'd dream in black and white, and wash the color swatches from my geeky little mind. I'd swing up to the moon and back, and touch the clouds with my saddle oxford shoes. I'd ride bicycles backwards, and litter banana peels in tomato gardens. I'd play Scrabble til my eyes would bleed, and win your heart by letting you get the brown wedge in Trivial Pursuit. I'd creep along the hallway walls, and jump out with a full-breathed "boo!" I'd cry only at commercials with monkeys and their big brown eyes, and hold my tears in when all I want to do is whine. I'd sleep curled into a fetal ball, and surround myself with a representative Twelve stuffed bears. I'd shine my smile along the way, if I ruled the world.

Exhale - 10thDoM Moon

Dive in. Head first. I'm water; I'll flow, you say. Slowly, I tiptoe to your crest, and I can feel the rush of cool moving in, lingering for a moment, retreating slowly, begging for the tips of my toes. I laugh at the idea, but it makes me smile. So I climb to higher land for a better view, am awed by what I see. Exhale. To breathe is a luxury these days. I'd love to swim freely through your waters, feel you wash over me, your flowing currents playfully surrounding me. Don't look back. The air is thinning, the sky is black and the moon is high. I can't stay up here forever.

I close my eyes and listen. Your night voice is calming, calling. I'm still hesitant, standing at your edge. Going back is not an option. I need to get away from the fire. He is destroying me. Deep breath. I'm in, I say, not sure if you'll catch me, but hoping you will. The sting of my bad form breaking through your surface is jolting. I realize your waters are unsteady and I can't swim. Your waves crush against my chest, my heart, pushing me away, driving me to the shallow ends. I'm suffocating beneath the weight of your impact. Washed to shore, the sand is rough; there's not enough of you here yet to hold me high enough to breathe.

Pushed too hard, too fast. Now those same surface tides that pushed me out slide underneath themselves, holding fast, pulling me back into you with their stronger undercurrents. You are water. You do flow. But you do not control your tides, and I cannot control the moon. She waxes and wanes in her own time, and I am helpless to fight as she phases through you. Crash into me, push me away, pull me in, hold me up, let me float. You're not what I expected. I'm not what you wanted. But your waters are calm for now and I can breathe. Exhale.

Authentic You

There is disjointed space holding her own reality, quickly realizing that being authentic is not in the stars of people who create themselves in images projected upon them. Looking into the mirror clearly, honesty is nearly impossible when we cannot cope with the oceans of emotions surrounding us each day. Being organic, able to shift, allowing the tides to rise and fall, without barriers is beautifully dangerous and brave. Going back to what we know, where we feel comfortable, to find our true way is admirable, enviable. Retreating back to what we know, our comfort zone, out of fear and desperation is a coward's play.

Creating ourselves in false images of our imagined fate is failure of character. Falter when it is time to falter, pick up, look inside, move forward, move on. Dream to be a different person tomorrow than today, a better person, an authentic heart. Dare to have the character to know yourself genuinely and without embellishment. The authentic self is open and healing, full of hope and dreams while being firmly grounded. It is non-harming, non-stealing. It is pure and content, insightful, divine.

Reassess the known self at every turn. Self constantly changes and churns, swaying a little, allowing for the merging and separating of paths. The power given - the trust, the respect, the love, the experience - are gifts that fall away without consideration. Without consideration, there is nothing to hold. Without consideration, walls are constructed and cores are pushed, and the physical manifestations of pain are real and damaging and permanent. If that is the authentic path, then stand up and be succinct, be sure and direct. Be sure, be honest, be real, be true. Be authentic you.

A Letter - 10thDoM The Time In Between

I'm going numb again. I'm disconnecting. I can feel the distance you're pushing tied to the walls you're building, and it's damaging me. I feel more tears behind my eyes than smiles crossing my lips when I think of you now. It's deja vu, and I don't want you to be like him, but you are. I can feel myself starting to turn away. I won't scream and shout. This is as loud as I'll be.

Tell me how unhealthy I am for you right after you tell me I'm the only healthy thing you have. Lay the blame on me when you can't figure out what you feel, when your head is fucked by someone else. You'd rather it be me; I'm the easier target, easier to let go. You'll never fully know what that did to me. It's not retractable. Tell me you miss me, then show me how many ways you can ignore me. Make sure you'd rather spend time with someone who makes it a mission to make you feel bad every time you're in their presence. Whisper how much you like the things I have, conveniently leave me out of the equation. I always wonder what happens in your times in between. Don't look for fires from me. The best I can do is a few sad tears.

You begged for me to lean on you, and I let myself go. I let myself believe in you and nowadays when I need to lean the most, you slip to the side. It's just enough to let me sink rather than fall. Do you convince yourself I won't notice you've moved? I can feel my bubble about to burst. Push me away because you think I feel too much or because you're too afraid. I know it's survival for you, but sometimes what we do to survive kills the things we love. I can't fight for you much more.

I feel you wanting to say something but holding it in, feeling the pressure. We're both collapsing. I melt when I'm in your presence, don't want to ruin the times I have with you. When I'm with you, I can breathe. It's the times in between and your arbitrary walls that are breaking me down. There are no fires, no screaming, no fighting. I may be in pieces, but I'm still unbroken.

*small edit in 2nd paragraph on 10/24/09

Dream Boy - 10thDoM Trapped

The first time she was comfortable in someone's arms, it was with someone who didn't really want her. He'd wooed her over the course of some months, but it had all been part of a game. His words had been exactly what she needed to hear at exactly the right time. He became her exhale at the end of each increasingly tumultuous day.

He'd become a fan of her poetry, repetitive as was, and had realized that she was in a vulnerable state, the perfect prey for his favorite game. Her life was falling to pieces around her, and he knew exactly how he would play her. The first correspondence was innocent enough. He was trying to stay in touch with the world back home; she needed a new ear but remained appropriately vague.

On their first meeting, more than two years prior, she had felt a connection to him that she hadn't believed could exist. She was more excited than she should have been every time she saw him in class. When he became a colleague instead of a student, she was relieved to have someone comforting in class with her, and when he left, she felt an emptiness she couldn't comprehend.

On their last meeting, just a few months prior, she had felt the heaviness of some intention that couldn't quite find its way out of him. She always missed his presence when he was gone and hoped for his safe return. She never could figure out why she felt so drawn to him, but she secretly thought about him often and wished they could be more.

When he finally did return home, he came straight to her, wrapped himself in her and her in him. She was everything he never wanted, and he was better than she'd imagined, though she knew it was a lie. She knew him better than he knew himself, but that only made her feel worse. Everything she'd ever dreamed of was trapped in the body of a boy who would never want to be her man.

Expendable - TT Collection

I have a vast collection of a certain kind of man. I collect the puer aeternus - eternal boys. I collect the narcissistic, the needy, the kind of man who loves to be mothered as long as he's not smothered. Every love of my life, every significant man in my life has been a puer. The common denominator is me, so I cannot blame them for my feelings of under-appreciation and hurt for they cannot see that they do anything wrong, and maybe they don't. Maybe it is just me.

I'd love to stop collecting boys and learn to collect men. Real men. Men who aren't scared of communication and compromise. Men who don't base their manliness on how awesome they are at their war games. Men who aren't afraid to be vulnerable or wrong. Men who are confident and a little cocky for good reason. Men who aren't afraid to man up and face the music even when they know the music won't be pleasant. Real men.

I collect a certain kind of man though. And I can't help but wonder why I love these men. Why I want better for them than they want for themselves. Why I see potential in them that they don't think is possible. I like being naive, but sometimes, it's painful. It's painful to watch men destroy themselves and their relationships because of pride or because they see relationships as games. There is a certain confidence that allows men to think that the people who love them will take hit after hit and keep coming back, but sometimes love just ain't enough. We're only expendable until we're gone.