Shaking, unsteady her hand pulls the handle down, thrusting the heavy door to whoosh out. She rolls bold out into the world.
She has a parachute in the back of her mind of a beautiful time when she got to fly, so if she falls, there’s a lifeline.
(I don’t understand what I’m feeling, except empty. I want to find the bright side. I don’t want to hide. I don’t want to cry. There’s that sadness like a black hole in my deepest metaphorical core as I accept I’ll never again touch you…I don’t want to let go.)
The intense rains of the southwest desert monsoon season flooded the dry and the brittle to plump up, and the desert bloomed for a short time, while the wet lasted. The rest of the year, no matter how despretely hot, life prevails, feeding on the medicine given during the year’s toughest parts.
You rained in vibrant excitement in spring and made summer fun firey hot. God, I want your spirit! Makes me lose my breath.
Wish I were normal, could handle playing it cool…no, no, no, I’m love’s fool.
No more weak, no more speaking fucking meek, I know what I need.
I need ME to stop being a pussy and find my cheetah: direct, confident, and fast as lightning when chasing what it wants to eat for sustenance, for brain candy.
I’m taking back my control to reestablish connection with my soul…Even drowning, I want to be able to dance a groove on the ocean floor!
Control. I will own my control. A wheeled wonder woman ready to pave my own road, that’s what I want to be.
Peeling down the yellow-bright skin, the insides await ice cream. I whip dollops of cream upon my sweet dream, and drizzle the top with chocolate syrup. The first spoonful carries all the flavor up to my lips, tongue salivating creeps a tip to stick and lick…OH, sooo good.
As I made my late night snack, you came to mind. I could eat you, not like with bites I swallow, but I can’t stop pondering, watching in my mind, my mouth on your body. I’m trying to be cool. I’m attempting coy. I struggle to find the right words that express…what? I want to be friends? Well, yes…yet, I have that devilish other side that wants you to be mine.
So, my days of summer are over, and fall makes me catch my breath, terrified of what’s next because I always seem to say too much and in the end lose out. Maybe you will magically hear me (unlike literally everyone in my life) and tell me that you feel me, and everything is gonna be alright.
Each morning and as I fall asleep every evening, I indulge in the dream as if it’s real, sucking in the sweetness, never full.
I’ve been through a lot over the last three decades since I’ve been an adult. I moved umpteen times, but despite the states having different weather, I could never escape myself. I rode darkness like a wave through days as if all in me was OK. All-encompassing love became an unattainable dream, never to be reality. And I settled into my bed, and I satisfied myself…that was fine til I die, which, of course, will be coming soon, spinal cord injury makes old a body like mine, I think, God, how much longer can I survive?
You…then, you…your energy electrified my insides with passion not pain!
I find myself feeling things I CANNOT explain.
I want for something I know is not for someone like me.
For the first time, I know why I don’t feel complete.
The gulp that gets stuck in my throat, taking away my breath…the need to feel you, to have you squeeze me, drives me insane.
The crave almost hurts. I can’t turn you off, the feel of you so sweet, I keep hitting repeat…
First Time
Macy did a perfect job explaining the emotional impact you make in my world. Oh, my muse, I adore you making my sweet spot sore, I come wanting more.
I burn fire-hot, my natural temp when emotions come up, and I sware I try to put my little love-genie back in its lamp, but up and up and up the smoke creeps deep while I sleep, then I wake, and I bake the sweetest treat of you and me making love in the morning…
Well Seasoned Love
A beacon of hope for real love, something I’d lost that you gave back.
Sitting on your wall, I call. Music bopping, tail feathers hopping, beaks bobbing. Alone, stimulated and invigorated, eyes glowing in the blue aura you left in my mind, I search for you in the sky, a friend flying by, willing to stop for a dancing flutter or a joke, or maybe a quick poke…
Sunday Vibe
This is a true story now:
My last concert this year was G Love, who I adore. Instead of a necklace for my 50th bday, I chose to get VIP passes for his Meet-n-Greet in Michigan. Instead of chilling with me when we got to the hotel, my other went Frisbee golfing. Moods were good. Then, the wait…we were us that night. Me leaving him to go take weird pictures as he never looked up from his phone, great pre-show where I asked too many questions, then he was pretty much done. I left, went in my van, and listened to “Sweet Spot” took my hits, and went back smiling. By mid-show he went outside and I stayed by myself until after I told G Love thanks and good-bye. I happened to choose the spot right by where his wife and family were, and it was so touching to see how a husband and wife should treat each other.
I’m thankful that I had you to help me through feeling so happy and so sad.
Hopelessly Inappropriate Thoughts 