As someone who blogs quite sporadically, I’ve had to take a moment or two and contemplate why I do this. Why do I write and why here?
I write so that I don’t become one of the dull-eyed people, nodding nearly to the ground that you see all over this city. Some are obvious addicts who just got a hit but there are many who touch no drugs but find themselves deadening to make it through. I choose neither, so I write.
I write because my pen still loves you. It holds onto our memories more steadfastly than my cluttered mind. It strokes the side of your face to life and dips into your kisses for ink. The pen never lets that dream disintegrate. I can visit again and again begging for one more. The pen always complies, so I continue to write.
I write because I often choke on my truth. It burns my chest seeking its release. I write of the permanent stain left without a glimpse back. Somewhere someone reads and it may not be that who but someone knows. In the writing, there is that solace.
I write to be known. To be held here in some way. To be had here in that way. To have here in this way. Here, someone can almost hear me scream, laugh, sigh and may care. I write here because breathing is not enough.
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Posted in Musings, Relationships, tagged gratitude, joy, kisses, kissing, love, memories, reflection, Relationships on July 29, 2010 |
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We kissed here once. Those were nice. Very.
I like your kisses however I get them. Distracting. I forget the heart of the matter and cling to them like they’re all that is living.
Your kisses are hard and punishing. I want to be punished this way. Not always. Just that last time.
You weren’t as angry this last time. No less intoxicating. Different.
Anger hinted at a possible similar abyss. Shared desolation. Maybe you felt what I felt when I was away from you but I’m never sure.
Never know. You may have cured me of wanting to know. Curiosity didn’t simply kill the damn cat. Drove it crazy then it killed itself.
Mmmmm. So addicted to those kisses–want you connected in that very way–I would sell out almost everything. Almost.
Especially me. Renounced myself, my sanity, grace and joy to have them when you seemed to look at such magical things as our kisses with indifference.
I remember them. They sometimes rock me to sleep, those kisses.
And, yeah that time when you–when we…I’m so glad I had that. Rooting in the desert of something denied, I have that jewel filed away.
Feeling you feel me feeling you. Blessing.
And I know it was right and good because I still feel good. No regrets.
Wounds heal. Sun kisses. Always. Grateful.
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