You're not here with me, so you don't know what it's like to feel the way I do. The want threatens to drive me out of my skin sometimes. I hold my breath, sit up straight, tuck in my gut. None of that shit works. I can never brace myself, so you constantly have me shook. Open book. You exist between my lines. Your story written with such difference that I read and sway...passion pulls. Yanks. Tears me out of the frame sometimes and I have no one but self to lean on for balance.
I can't always be strong.
I weaken a bit and allow it in. Float on intuitive bliss...skim the thought of a l l of you. Ooh. I peek into your windows; covet and crave and....wantwantwant. Heated lifeblood. Sometimes simmer, other times rolling boil. Got me melted down to the wick, slick thinking about how we could be archetypal love and romance. Gets a bit tantric, but overstand your dick is only the conduit. I'd like to use it to pull you into me - real deep. Immerse you in how I feel; mind blend into feel how you. Infinite.radiant.flux.
At times, I am Narcissus at the pool; eternally enthralled. You - my reflection; far more beautiful than I. I crave to touch/loveon/know/worship you, but when I reach out...elusion. Illusion? Did I imagine that sensation of reciprocal crash and burn, burn, burn? To think that all of this has always been one-sided...
Leaves me feeling exposed. Sometimes I have to decompose the story for the sake of sanity. Epic to novel. I focus on external things because my insides are a mess. You're all mixed in, so I get mixed up about what I should let go and what I should keep. Why can't my third eye separate the chaff from the wheat? For the sake of we, I have tried and tried to rinse. Each time the base nature of my desire cancels the acidity of the water/
But I'm never neutral. Always pro, sometimes desperately wishing I could con myself out of wanting you so damn bad. It abrades and tears wounds that won't ever fully heal unless you decide to cover me. I know you accept my devotion, but it won't suffice as the balm. Only you - naked and willing as I - can do that. Though I feverishly, fervently wish you would come to/with me...
This is not a call to action. Merely a confession from a soul caught up in a moment; which feels like eternity. Take this as you wish. You can even...take me. As I am. Or mold me into whatever you need at any given moment - mother, sister, angel, instrument, wife...ms. stress. Uncontrollably pliable and thy will be done. Just speak it. Tuck me into a corner or inside a prettily wrapped box...I.don't.care.anymore. I don't. I just don't. As long as you keep me near. It's y(our) world.
I...I just want you around.
Posted by Lisa at June 4, 2007 02:06 AM