I do better for him...everyday. Want to make him proud, because he feels like daddy. Cake him, because he feels like my baby. And I wish I could summon a poet's spirit to speak eloquently of this love...my love; but just maybe these words will do.
We feel like... hazy lazy days and sun supple limbs. Stippled moonlight on water. Rainstorms inside and out. Sky gazing. French vanilla toast in bed. Waffles with REAL bacon! Smoke on the patio. Movie days and nights. Cheeks aching with laughter. Hands holding. Arms open. Hair twisting. Leg massaging. Back rubbing. Bear hugs that take breath while breathing life. Aspiration. Inspiration. Harmony. Rhythm. Balance. No beginning and no end. Divinely circular. Organic. Elemental. Stream of consciousness.
We feel like...no we be love. We exemplify and demonstrate. And what I feel when with him is bliss; where each becomes both. He is I and I am he. I need no ancient text to tell me that. I need no one to affirm that what I feel is true and forever. No matter what comes of life, my heart's desire will always be him.
And that's real.
I've been inward facing lately, thinking about that pesky martyr gene of mine. The one that tells me to do silly things to divert this intense focus. But I can never look away for long (the light draws me); and now I refuse. Confusion and misery comes when we deny the rightness of love; so focused on the skin in which it is encased that we create synthetic situations and obstacles. We wind up denying the feeling. I ask self and you - why hide? Why sublimate? Why do anything but live-in-love?
Hmph. Why indeed.
My king b has long since given me permission to speak and love freely; but still I felt that fear. If I'd had the sense that I possess now, I would have never kept silent or played my emotions to the left. But you know...we grow. Change. But the love never does. Near or far I find myself glowing, welling, emoting, spilling...we (he in me) all over the place. Affecting others with the sense of self he helped me find.
I'm just...giving you a gram of passion. Put this in your pipe and smoke it. Get high and fly and all more than usual. Atypical and rebel the box and destroy labels. Real eyes realize that evolution and revolution are always wise. And love...love always.
I mean...that's what I do. That's what I am. Because of him...my love.
I make my own destiny. I write my own lessons.
Posted by Lisa at May 17, 2007 02:40 AM