Like a shooting star, you grant wishes by being who you are. I struggle to believe in a far-off future in which my fingers could play your keys, but you make it possible for me to experience the delectable taste of a magical dream.
What you just released, touches me…
Each time
arrests my heart
for a moment
as I catch my breath,
leaving me
glow-smiling,
belly bubbles bursting,
urging love-chuckles
to jiggle the soul
out from feeling old.
As is my wont, when I can’t sing what I really want to convey, I use someone else’s voice to carry my ideas away:
Trying to be still, two wicks lit, one dancing shadow illuminates the lamp that shades my journal, trying to be still, too afraid the darkness encroaches upon me, but I’m saved by your reflection engaging in imaginative play, slaying my pain from the day, and I watch you move in my memory.
Trying to be still, I wait until my vision comes…
Sex on Fire
Dreams with you get me through. All I want is my late night peek, ohhh, just a bit to satisfy this addict? I promise I’ll be quiet, and then, I’ll be able to fall asleep, thinking about some kind of wonderful…
(I pulled this from my journal, wrote it while sad a few ago. Then, I found this song, and I found a connection in the parallel. You blow my mind, Zach! Wish I had the balls to tell you this in real life;)
Let It Be Sung Transcendental Power❤️🔥🥰
Yes, I’m acting like a child…and I love it. You’re never too old to fall in love slow❤️
My favorite part of the day is thinking of if I were with you, what would I do, what would I say…when I feel you’re near, everything seems crystal clear.
“Hold onto the dream, but not too tightly.”
Ouch!! Arrow through the heart. Oh my muse, my love you’ve won.
My sweet prince, you’re a big star. With you, I go far.
As you jog towards the ocean, feet flinging sand to tap the small of your back, secret skin exposed to the sun, then splashing through the foamy waves, you dive in where I take your hand…
You cradle me against your chest, sunset behind your head, crystal eyes gazing into mine, and as if you could read my mind, your wet lips slip salty kisses up my neck and along my jaw, then our lips part together welcoming a tide coming in with our tongues colliding…
(I keep seeing him do it again and again in my head so right now I can’t watch the video again, too dangerous. No, tonight I need to show how I can envision me fitting into his world for a beautiful moment, fulfilling my dream.
I stopped trying to deny I need help right now. Allowing myself to dream of him, despite the ‘never’ of it, invigorates me with power. I actually drove to four different places today that cause extreme anxiety, and even with having expired plates, the BMV felt sunny and happy!
I’ve felt like I’m living in the twilight zone for years and years and years, until color came back into my world because dreaming became not just powerful but possible.
It’s his face that gets me through my liminal space, and the wisdom of his voice brings sense and solace to a brain that so often gets lost in this mad world’s maze.
Liminal Space
I go to bed this way many a night. TV off, whole house dark, and finally a flicker, a tingle-spark, producing a pervading warmth from my bottom up with a swift burn of lust…and that’s when I go there…Instagram.
I only have to look at my own saved videos, and no one is the wiser.
He sings me to sleep for real, dreaming of gorgeous places and fun excursions (often writing or watching until I can’t see straight so that I can find some REM).
Dreams sit on the tip of my tongue by morning as I open my eyes at six, snores done he’s already on his phone or in the garage gone. Very little for me in the between.
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…
As if I’ve traveled, like I’m there, only better because it’s your voice I hear coming from so close by my ear, so confident, so eager to see, touch, be part of new and exciting things…that’s you, my eyes into a world in motion. I may be marooned, but I’m touched by what you share, like you want me there, lol.
Idealistically:
Why does he affect me with such lucidity? Why does picturing his face draw my hand to my chest as if to touch his hand inside holding my heart afloat?
Reality:
I always check myself at night before I indulge again, “He doesn’t know you exist, be satisfied by him allowing you to keep escaping with his images!”
A brain’s heart so touched it can’t help but burn with bursts of love.
I’ve been hiding. No one noticed. I went to bed way too early, no TV, no music, no beautiful video to lull me to a good night’s sleep. Two days, only me, watching in my head, an emptiness, a hole growing like “The NOTHING” with me needing belief in the creative, golden light to make everything alright.
Now, I’m scared to touch that fire in me again would be dangerous…
I don’t have unrealistic expectations, but unreachable dreams that obviously could never be stroked, will never be embraced, a kiss never to be placed upon the lips I see at night in my sleep.
As I lie in bed, waiting for nothing to happen, I pretend he’s facing me, and I can study his eyes, trace every inch of his face, tell him about my day:
Like he’d care a beautiful ten year old girl at the special needs camp had trouble with sudden outbursts of anger and frustration, however, I happened to hear her say, “…and the wizard told the girl…”
I said, “I love wizards! Is that what you’re drawing?”
She told a few lines of her story, then went about talking to herself again, but calmer. Only he could see how cool this moment was for me.
I broke through with the toughest kid in camp because I met a wizard who truly does do magic.
How can anyone compare to how such a simple thing can make my heart remember how to with beat warmth, even on one the coldest of summer’s nights.
