not pretty

Resentment’s ugly. He makes his sneer so clear with me at the  butt of his insipid joke, and whether I’m an easy target or I’m the asshole big enough to constantly get hit, it doesn’t matter one little bit.

I won’t let him steal my spirit, no matter how hard he tries.  I’m not a pretty picture,  if you knew my life as a wife. I hate having this side, brooding alone in the dark long before the witching hour with a moon full, wondering…

What do I want???

That insatiable hunger, the need to kiss again, the longing to explore passionate sexuality, the desire for spontaneous body searches, feeding upon each other, laughing and loving, giving and receiving…

Ha! That’s not my world. Maybe I need a prostitute.

(I don’t write marriage often, and rarely leave it up long, but sometimes I just feel so stuck, laying next to someone who doesn’t know I’m there, I have to release my resentment so tomorrow my kids see me happy:)

Grounded

GROUNDED! I am. Hope is like magic to me. In a hopeful magic-mirror, I see a side of me that’s happy, electrified with new prospects of fun, giddy to grind with lust on my mind.      

BUT      Magic isn’t real. It’s a con.

When my brain gets too excited, it girgles naughty thoughts, and it tricks me into creating a story I want to hear, a fairy tale.     

About my days, I go slow, eyes looking up, thinking in pictures of…  

what if I found a connection

with a passionate friend, who tickles my fancy, OH yes, a muse for my fantasies…     

Every look, every touch elevates your love…that’s how I wish you’d feel about me, addicted like I’m your very favorite thing.  

Melancholy madness, knowing my truth. No magic can make me hope something will change. I’m doomed to accept my lustless fate, so I guess I’ll just go back to sleep.         

YET         

(I tell you true, this is happening right now!!!)

A yellow finch just now called my attention from my red pen bleeding onto my notebook paper.

Wheels turning I had to ponder, What is this bird saying?

He just keeps singing louder and louder, then I spot him high on a flexible limb, a cloud white floating as his backdrop:

“STOP! LOOK UP!”

He sang so lovely, not at all like the other birds, a voice and rhythm all his own.

Then, a sparrow chimes, “Just live…and be…love life…reality!”

As if stung by the sun, my eyes close, the pain in my neck feels like a knife in the muscle just turned, so a frown pulling my chin down, I wheel back into the cold darkness of the garage and close the door with a wrist-flip, twisting the deadbolt locked.

Enveloped by darkness, I see the remnants of that circle of light and I blink a quick-

CLICK!

Like a photograph, within my mind, I snap-shot this moment in real time where the moon eclipses the sun making me feel warm, less alone.

(I hope you never doubt your worth! I long to show you how much I need you in my life, or I swear I wouldn’t have been able to hang in this long:)

Come, Get Away

Which are you fight or flight? Sometimes, like tonight, when I need to fly away, I’m kinda glad my legs don’t work, I don’t run, no, I go to bed. Hopelessly Inappropriate my proclivity persists, and I escape with you for a bit.

Colorado had tons opportunity for me to participate in adaptive sports while I lived in Littleton. I rock climbed mountains, I hand-cycled hills and valleys, kayaked ponds, and sailed a sailboat. I wrote this poem as I learned to sail around 2016 (the last time I tried to run away, in love with the dream that love should include passion, dying to make a connection).

Re-Wind Me, My Captain

Flying your vessel

With a siren’s wail,

I am the only way

To steer my course,

For you, my Captain

Leapt for the sea

Leeward without me.

 

I know nothing, alone

In the no-go zone…

 

But re-wind me

With a bellow, Captain,

I’ll come back to you

About the next puff,

 

For with you I’d sail

Every sunset of time

Even in waters rough.

 

 In music league the challenge this round was to find a song about getting away by some mode of transportation (planes, trains, automobiles or other ways to get out of Dodge;) This is what I went with, a I mean it, lol!!!

Come Sail Away With Me!

Thanks for listening! Wishing you hopeful thoughts:)

How was the big V?

Did your big V make out like my big V:

vibration coming from watching sex on TV,

alone while with somebody,

no kiss or any happy to the V. 

Yet another holiday kidless and estranged.

While young, I always wondered what 20 years of marriage would be like, knowing that would never be me

Now, I guess I know.

My big V forever will be neglected and longing for someone, something STIMULATING to take a moment and dote love upon me.

Unless…maybe You come satisfy my big V where X marks Your entry, hard-cocked and loaded to pump in and up the V between my legs, titlating my nips while wet kissing our hips rapid pecks perking us into a dick splashing bliss…

I sure hope You got something sweet for Your big V! I’d hate for You to not get a “Happy Valentine’s day” or a peck of a kiss.

It’d be a shame, for Yours is the kiss I miss.

One MAD Rut

I’m mad, not sad…NO, MAD. No one gives a fuck, especially not my hub. I can’t imagine how to fix us this broken when changing is an impossibility for us both. So stuck in a rut years long, and the longer marriage drags us along, the less I’m interested in touching or being touched at all…at least by the man that makes me feel like shit all the time. I’m literally losing my mind, wondering why my desire to feel doesn’t reach across the bed with appeal, but instead I get MAD!!!

Want to help me do something bad???

(To You: It’s that time of year again, when I have little good to say because all I want to do is run away. Next week, let’s breathe in each other’s ear…Ahhh yesss, that would tingle me some cheer😉