Reflection

Paralyzed by Fear (updated)

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I do everything to do it, prepare and pump myself up, then instead, I do everything BUT DO IT! The frustration with myself eventually led me here, out of journal, seething.

One might wonder: What is IT?

Often logical like making and keeping medical appointments, shopping, and paying bills, those things now relative to PTSD that evoke emotions of pain, struggle, and loss I’ve endured.

Other ways I find myself paralyzed, though similar in the ‘why’ my fear is so great to be hurt, are more irrational, like what I’m currently dealing with…

Long story long, I asked him a question about his writing, and I’m scared to go back to see the reply…

OR the lack thereof…I guess therein is my problem. He’s been so kind in the past, I fear he’ll tire of my interest.

I love my bubble 🫧 At this point in my life, the shell of me that’s left after 50 years is a bubble.

Too much fucking baggage, right??? YES!!!

I know.

So, what now…

I DID IT!

Fear conquered.

I listened to the voice that calms my mind, his words of rhythm enchanting my soul to dance, then it was courage I found with his wisdom guiding me back to look and see if I received a reply, and to my great relief and surprise, his face lit up my night saying everything right:

I love it!

He made yet another dream come true!!!

Honestly, I think my fear, deeper than it seemed, really was that I dared to reach out, to actually make our worlds touch, but didn’t realize I could lose it all by saying too much.

His eyes grazing my words brings an unparalleled warmth into my world. I have need to give him something in return!

Watching him sing, hearing my ‘make me feel high’ note, squeezes my heart til it feels as if it could burst, eyes in a wet-blur, lungs stop filled hot, and as he finishes, I shimmy a slight shake so that my naked breast slaps REPLAY.

If only I could give him my love and a great big hug…

Ohhh boy, I’m being bit by the late night naughty bug, imagining what’d be happening if he were here making my dream real.

my mind’s watering hole

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You came to me, finally.

As the moon hid behind gloom, I lay awake waiting to dream, the pain insane, my muscles twitch with the inflammation itch…

Until…

My breath’s so calm sleep begins believing in relief and follows my subconscious into my mind’s watering hole to bathe in peace…

Then…

A weeping willow provides a canopy draping over my bed placed at the base of a river. The trickling of water over rock pulls my dreamy-eyed glare back to focus…

Finally…

I feel you curl up behind me, your long fingers sliding my hair from off my neck, and nipples pop out with the heat of your breathing as you cup my breast, entering…

(A part of me truly does feel this in and out of my day wanting a connection to you…your voice…your face and in me you pulsate.

That darn yearn is like the incessant meow of an alley cat, prancing its desire up and down my id, trying to trick me into giving in letting down my guard enough to entertain picturing what I really want.

As a wizard, you know what you can do. You do magic! Oh, my beautiful muse, grant me one wish, please make one more dream come true! Once more, I must see you. Say you’ll talk to me some day soon. Oh love, you have no idea the inspiration is in you for me…

Yes. My love feels crazy, but there are no notes of bad, my life’s just kinda sad. Hoping to change that.

to just hide

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I’m scared. No, more like I’m terrified. Nothing is right. The harder I try, the more I realize the problem is that I cannot fathom this continuing on.

I don’t want to be this way, redundancy in subjects I don’t enjoy, like politics, religion, and marriage. I loathe hate. Yes, it makes perfect sense to just hide, run away, pretending the silence isn’t deafening. It seems as if day after day, I have less to say.

It’s a glint of either annoyance or hatred when he looks at me, years of seeing it nearly every time I’m around, that’s what turned me cold. I’ve been feeling so icky, I hate being in the same room. My tummy troubles have returned, but part of me wonders if it’s stress making me nauseous, not a flare of gastroparesis.

I wish to escape, see his face as if I will have a chance to touch his grace…but I must wait. When I want something this much, for my heart, it’s dangerous. I shouldn’t miss him. And yet, I do. I miss sharing words with him, I miss his smile, I miss watching him work, I love observing him play with instruments and people along the way.

But, outside these walls, I don’t exist, and I know it. Until I can trust myself to maintain impulse control, until I can trust that I can stay quiet despite desire burning my heart to moan at his words of wisdom, I think it’s best if I stay here for another late night dreaming about a man I don’t know.

Rain

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The rain keeps falling, but I’m safe. I’m beneath the covers, holding onto you just below the surface in a graze of hot air we share, and we float as if engulfed in a cloud, steamy-eyed listening to the sounds of our hearts beating the rain.

This tickles me to smile despite the dark clouds crying:

Devil’s Dance (Big Bad Voodoo Daddy)

innocent backfire

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Innocent. My intention at the start, innocent enough, just to be sure I wasn’t afraid if ever awarded another conversation. I thought, If I just study his expressions, get used to the hyper-intensity of looking into his eyes, I’ll seem normal in any situation with him.

BACKFIRE

I’m hooked. I’m struggling to stop. I know full well I have no hope. For me, to learn more in life with him, to have what I feel reciprocal…

He is like touching a cloud and magically transforming the horizon from shades of gray to a prismatic light that makes everything, everyone glow with a radiant aura and feel it.

I don’t want to stop. I want to feel lust, to touch true love…

But, I admit. This is how I break my heart in the end. I know he already has enough love in his life.

This is where I say fuck it and go fantasize. Consequences be damned! I sware I feel in love with that man!

(I don’t care how silly this story seems for someone my age, but I know what I am capable of, I know what I want, I realize depth is tough, I want more than feeling cold inside and jumping surprised when touched because it’s been so long since the last time. I unload the good, the bad, and the ugly here to keep me from losing my mind!)

A Dream’s Truth

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The dream is true.

We exist, dreaming of eating together the same peice of sweet truth. We listen to each other’s desires sung in the poetry of possibilities, a game of intrigue in which we spar scars and sorrow with love and laughter building trust in tomorrow.

The dream is true.

You are mine to play with anytime…

IN MY MIND.

I wish you were clay, and I could mold you into a clone of yourself and keep you with me in bed, probing you, pulling my fingers across every inch of your skin, nuzzling as I learn your grooves, your dimples, your lips with my kiss…

Yes, this is my wish as I shower away my sighs this morning, knowing my dream of love will only exist inside me, pent-up clenched tight, waiting for your light to do my dream right!

(I’m so lucky! Your voice through my day and reels at night help keep me going through the problems and pain as if you’re with me each day, except I barely say a thing.

For the first time since we met, I’m not afraid you’ll hate me or cut me off for something inappropriate I’ve said or might say some day. In my world, that’s more than progress, it’s truly established my trust. I struggle to hold onto people I love. Often it’s me who gets too scared to get hurt, so I run away and give up.

I’m trying to GROW UP.

Trust me, for the last 20 years, the wisdom in your music has helped me process my reality. Now, you really are a dream I NEED in me;)

I’ve been processing this feeling for a week and still don’t know how to say anything, lol.

I just keep reaching out to touch

An Ember to Remember

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It still burns.

An ember to remember

when beauty touched my world,

it’s all I have left of you,

but for pictures I caress.

Yet, it still burns.

An ember to remember

how you looked at me

and I felt the heat

build up a hunger inside,

as if you could read my mind.

And still it burns.

Even as I’m drowning,

spitting water as foam

engulfed in a bubble of darknight…

Even then, it glows.

You are an ember to remember,

in me burning with a glittering

that will shine for all time.

she got to fly

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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.)

Closer to Believing

a tide coming in

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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 have his face as my saving grace:)