Seven Year Itch

I cannot forgive you,
The man who has hurt me. 
But I can forgive the child that was 
      Before you became this monster. 
He was innocent once.
Before we all grew up and started trying to kill each other
     And loved and adventured without fear of a THE END.

You sang hypnotically to my soul
     And I ran because I saw that you were bleeding and needed me.
There was so much red I stopped being able to see straight.
I knew that you were going to be one for the books.
I have fallen and gotten scraped from time to time,
     But you simply gutted me.
In what feels like seconds you had me drowning 
     In your hypnotic confusion.

The words you spoon fed me were holy.
Not like religion as you had hoped, 
     But like Swiss cheese.
I still nailed myself to a cross made out of apologies anyway.
I know I'm nothing to you.
I'm a fucking plagiaristic copy of every other being 
     You spewed invisible promises at.
I'm still finding myself wanting answers to this myth of yours.
You were always more beautiful as a stranger.
Are you sick or just from Hell?

One of these days I will forgive myself for falling in love
     With someone who never existed in the first place.
In minutes I was ripped from my happy place by you.
And somehow thought I'd be fine,
And just grateful that I made it out of your sickness alive.
Bright sides...
     There'd be no art if your rose colored glasses 
          Weren't kaleidoscopes in disguise.

I keep wondering why I'm not telling myself 
     That I'm going to be alright.
I'm reaching,
     But there are not arms for me to find solace in.
There is something about this new found silence that now has me more scared 
     Of being alive than of dying.
I am an escaped hostage who can't find her way home 
     Standing in her own living room.

I was always the brave one.
         The warrior.
If you know what's good for you,
     You'd drop the act and do the right thing.
You should have killed me.
As always it was half-assed 
     And still managed to rip everything I am out of my soul.
I'm still in here somewhere.
What will you do when you find that your discarded pawn 
          Was really the queen you were searching for?
I still find beauty in your "almost".

Mid-Morning Observation

I'm messy when I'm human.
I mistake puddles for oceans and before I know it, 
I'm having a drunken one night stand or changing my hair or rearranging furniture and deep cleaning my closets or starting a new project that I'll never finish in an attempt to disinfect my feelings that are crawling under my skin like the sand worm in Beetlejuice in an effort to get you off of my mind.
I need a new escape plan.

My dog will watch intently while he decides whether or not you are worthy of putting your hands on him.  
This could take minutes or it could take months;  
but he will never rush to his decision.  
Once he has chosen you, 
he'll spend every moment in your presence reminding you of his love and demanding yours.
He is the smartest 9 year old I have ever met. 
I want to be more like him.
I on the other hand,
seem to be a big dumb dog who is stupid excited for a belly rub every time that way you look at me crosses my mind.
Mind shut off, 
not caring how vulnerable I've just made myself.
Foreign, alienated.  
Invigorated, yet settled.

None of the physics-defying devices that I've crafted over and over in my mind have been able to outrun those who have left my life. 
I don't miss most of them.
Chronically allergic to human relationships.
That's what I've always described this "thing" that goes on inside of me as.
I've never lost a limb; 
but I bet that's exactly what losing you would feel like.

Museum

I used to believe in signs.                         Perhaps I still do, but I don't go looking anymore.  

Words I thought were painted vividly are showing themselves to me but they're as muddled as braille.                  Honestly!                                          Constantly wishing and hoping...

If the Gods wish for me to read riddles, I wish that they would please take my permission and not hold back when they hit me with "Hello" square in the face.

There's a strange reassurance in your existence that helps remind me of mine - as if being here and loving you has begun to make me real.

I'll let you into my brain.                 Walk amongst my favorite memories,   safeguarded behind ropes and glass.          I won't let you touch them.                The broken little girl I have let you see isn't the one you're touching when you lay your hands on me.                                The heart you're watching beat behind the gilded sign is too damaged to ever be whole again.                                Remember, you're here on a free day pass.   A view like this isn't going to last long.           I'll show you a glimpse of who I am and shutter the doors because I saw that you weren't paying attention.                    I will recount all of my favorite memories; not that you have any interest in getting to know who I am.                  You are a visitor, only welcome to listen.
It's not like I can't live without you.                I've done that already.          It's just that suddenly being without you feels unnatural.                           I've never been willing to pull the sun out of the sky for anyone.

Memories are meant for visitation not for residency.                                   I never wanted to be loved.                 It's just that being in the same room as your presence hits me in a place within that tells me I could have fallen in love with you with my eyes closed.                            The memory of the sparkle in your eye that you had watching me when you thought I didn't see you has made a home in my mind.         It was as if something inside of you had caught fire.                                   It was as beautiful as it was unsettling.

Carefully pay attention to the signs that read "Do not touch" and "For safety reasons, stay inside of this line".  I wish you had brought a sledgehammer.

So, about last night.....

PICTURE IT:

When you're physically sick because of all of the insanity and there      is one thing in the world that would make it all go away for a      little while because you really suck at stress.  
And that "thing" is actually a person.  
And you've never needed anyone.  
Not ever. 
And for some screwed up reason that has yet to be defined, 
they do something to your soul you've never experienced yet             feel like you've waited for your entire life. 
And you don't understand certain behavior and it all defies logic to      you.
Things have been going on that have caused you to almost give up on this person entirely.
You restarted your dating website profile last week in an effort to patch over the hole their existence left in your mind.
Why not?
They won't commit to you.
Even if you don't want to, 
you're certainly free to do as you damn well please.
And you so don't want to.
You chat a bit.
Get hit on a bit.
Get asked out.
But your heart isn't in it anymore.
You know exactly who and what you want and nothing else is going to         do anymore.  
Patience and time;  
a new-found mantra that strangles you because you have anything but.
Because you're already in a heightened emotional state, 
     everything else is horrible too - including him.
A fact that is recognized after you proceed to lose your shit            entirely.
And you put your foot down that come Hell or high water you're going      to see them and get what you need.
Maybe he really was just as busy as he said he was.
Maybe he really is just the douche bag you think in your head that         he is. 
And yet, you canceled a date that you had set up so you could see him. 
It turns out to be way more than you expected...
          emotionally. 
You two say things to each other that have need to be said. 
You clarify that you aren't an option.
He clarified that you are wrong about what you said.
He also clarified that he is in no rush for anything.
You find yourself no longer feeling that cuddling feels more like            you're a hostage than it does comfort. 
It's actually quite nice and you even allow yourself to relax a bit.
You bond over politics and the debate on TV.
And then you fidget because you realize this and it starts feeling       like a hostage situation.
They tell you that you make them happy just being around them.
You spend the night in each other's arms.
The entire night.
And it's wonderful.
And you freak out inside.
And your brain is stuck in this peaceful, 
     floating space between La La Land and Pure Joy.
Then the vision hits you like a fork in the eyeball:
     What appears to be a tiny, black plastic hair elastic on the         bedroom floor.
After they told you that he hasn't had any other women there.
But it's the same type of elastic that you used in your daughter's        hair - only hers are rainbow shades.
Bullshit is called.
And the walls around your heart fly right back up 
     - filled with holes like Swiss cheese where they were napalmed      by the floaty space you were just in.
And you turn into this fact finding weirdo you don't even recognize.
You start feeling feelings.
A whole shitload of them all at once. 
An Olympic sized swimming pool full of allllll the feelings.
Right out there in the open.
And then you jump out of it spewing the weirdest shit out of your facehole....
it was like an out of body experience.  
You're more grossed out by the sensation of being a human being more      than the fact that you possibly feel things that you shouldn't      be.
He just goes on with no fucks given.
Wants to know "What my problem is".
"It's probably the housekeeper's".
Such is life.
He has no idea where it came from.
Thanks you for saving his cat's lives because they would have eaten      it.
You start spewing things out of your mouth that you have thought but      vowed (until you were angry) that you weren't going to say.
Now that you've calmed down and think back on it, you don't even          know who that chick was.
You get dressed in a hurry with "Maybe you should choke on it, d-        bag" dancing through your deranged head.
You get home.
You cool off a little.
You go "say anything" on him.
As if I haven't done enough of that already.

**Note:  When I'm sorry for doing or saying something, I have this odd tendency to over-admit to being wrong.  Like, I have to explain the root of the problem and my thinking behind it, so they understand where I'm coming from like it makes the apology more real; or something.  I don't even understand it myself, to be totally honest.  For lack of a better term, I get verbal diarrhea.

And then there was this:

There is a small possibility that I am a dickhead.

I was at work.  

Yes, I made it there without harming anything or anyone.  

I was even in a better mood.

I was minding my own business, and my friend E. from work comes over to chat before her shift like she always does.  

We've been talking about "him" since the beginning of things.

She's married.

She helps me understand men a little better and sometimes talks me off of the so-called homicidal ledge.

I tell her about last night. 

Then I tell her about this morning.

Halfway through my description of the elastic, she asks, 

     "Was it black?"

Dumbfounded as to how she could know this, I respond yes.

She smiles her gentle, motherly, "You're an idiot" smile that she         gives so well.

"It very well could have been an elastic that comes on a cord when you buy something that holds it together.  My husband is notorious for leaving them all over the house."

And there you have it;  I think we may have made a few passersby worried by the fit of laughter and stupidity that we melted into.

Little Voice

I find my mind quieted and unable to bring myself to leave.
I fell  as easily as fingertips that trace over my body.
       Teasing.
Bruising my ego with every goose bump and loss of breath.
Leaving me with a longing that I'm not used to.
Don't go.
          Beg me.
                 Please.
Don't brush me off.
            Don't put up a wall.
I promise I'll stop being honest if you would start.
I don't want to stop feeling this way.
I set out to destroy you.
     It was I who am destroyed.
Check.  Mate.
Imploded upon myself.
        Point.  Proven.
A brilliant plan without a plan that backfired.
    You belong to no one.
                  I wasn't supposed to.
Finding that I'm wanting so much that I never knew existed.
           I wasn't supposed to feel.
So much that I can barely breathe just thinking about you.
You weren't supposed to prove me right.
   My heart doesn't belong in my body anymore.  
               Please take it.
We waited so long for each other.
                       And now we're still strangers.

For The Love Of Logic!

I just read something...

it kind of struck a cord.  And then that cord actually turned out to be more like a fuse to an internal mine filled with dynamite.

1.  You're
2.  Really
3.  Over-thinking
4.  This
5.  You
6.  Could
7.  Probably
8.  Just
9.  Point
10.  To
11.  Your
12.  Chest
13.  And
14.   Say
15.  The
16.  Word
17.  Boobs
18.  While
19.  Winking
20.  And
21.  Giving
22.  A
23.  Thumbs
24.  Up
25.  And
26.  He
27.  Will
28.  Be
29.  More
30.  Turned
31.  On
32.  Than
33.  He
34.  Ever
35.  Has
36.  In
37.  His
38.   Life
39.  Because
40.  Men
41.  Treat
42.  The
43.  Most
44.  Recent
45.  Erection
46.  As
47.  The
48.  Best
49.  One
50.  Ever.

There you have it folks.  It was an article titled "50 Words Every Woman Must Know To Drive A Man Wild In The Bedroom".  Given that I have a lot of experience with cock, I would have to say that I used to agree on this.

However once in awhile, someone comes along that changes everything that we know about what we think we want.  Who we are.  What we know or think that we've learned about human behavior.  Someone who makes our nostrils flair and our pupils to dilate just a tad at the sound of their voice.  The world seems to turn to a haze around the world you've been living in and normally could find your way around even on your worst bender.  Now after coming home from spending time with them you're lucky if you can stagger to the bathroom in the middle of the night and remember to put the seat down that your kid left up before sitting.

They have fucked your shit up entirely;  and you know it the second that you could have landed the perfect one nighter and walked away because you'd rather be snuggling on the couch watching the news with Mr. Twilight Zone than with the banging bod from out of town who you know would understand that you don't do sleepovers and leave just like he was never there in the first place and you're not even mad at the Universe for that test.

Meeting

I didn't want to like him.  One octave out of his mouth and I had no choice in the matter.

We talked several times on the phone in between text messages.  I found myself thinking things that everything logical in the world tells me I shouldn't be thinking yet my inner hopeless romantic wants to dance on the edge of the cliff anyways.  And then my not so inner socially awkward moron says them out loud.  This man is a walking library filled with my favorite words.  He hasn't run screaming yet.  I guess that's a plus.

Then came the night we met:

He warned me that he wanted to rub my leg on the drive and asked if I'd let him.  I kept trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing and act like I was a good girl.  And I am, for the most part.  I can behave.  I know how....I mean, I might pull a tendon and pop a blood vessel, but I can do it.

I was a wreck the entire day at work.  I knew exactly what I was going to wear but I changed my shoes 3x and then when it came time to leave changed my mind again.  And of course I made the decision to wear a pinup style halter dress on the most blustery day in November.  I still managed to look cute even with the wind trying to make a fool out of me.  He was already doing a wonderful job of that.

He walked through my door with a look on his face that I couldn't read...anticipation but extremely confident in a way that wasn't cocky about it.  Maybe a little cocky.  Instant goosebumps.  I still get them when I think about that exact moment.

I was not expecting him to drive the kind of car that he does.  A Lincoln.  Given some background information it sort of makes sense, but still not really.  Sturdy, reliable, timeless.  Oddly comforting and sexy.

It is so fortunate for us all that we don't have something I can only describe as a mental screen projector, just showing everything we're thinking right out in the open for all the world (and him) to see.  I had so much going through my head and without fail one look my mind went totally blank.  He'd look away just to start the racing up again.

Conversation with him is weird and wonderful and unsettling and right where I know I want to be, almost like a long lost friend that I've been missing all this time.

We went to a little hole in the wall place that is amazing and had dinner.  We both hate cooked green peppers to my dietary relief.  I've never had a dirty martini with pickle brine, I am now hooked.  I had a steak quesadilla, he had the mac & cheese at my suggestion.

We talked about a lot of random things.  I do recall how I felt.  I do recall being blown away that he was into much of the same things that I am into.  He had seen my pictures that I have on my Fetlife page of the modeling that I do for fun and said that he enjoyed doing that kind of thing himself.  Oh who the fuck am I kidding?  I was so ridiculously gaga and so busy trying not to say something stupid that I barely remember half of it.

Then we left.  The second both of our feet hit the sidewalk he gave me a grin and before I knew it I was back to the building in his embrace losing my sanity and finding it all at the same time in the Holy Grail of dating moments.  Purse to the ground, my arm automatically reached up to seal the deal.  I was gone.

I don't know what I was thinking (frankly I wasn't, at all.) but something was said and before I knew it I didn't have the top of my dress on anymore and he was sucking on my nipples so perfectly that I didn't care that we were in a parking lot.  The way we kissed made me giddy.  I saw his face aglow in a way that you look when you have won something.  Nobody has ever looked at me like this before.

Things continued on and before we knew it his car seat and my dress were soaked and two hours had passed.  It was like we were on the cusp of being two kids who had no idea what they were doing and two porn stars knowing exactly what would bring out the intense waves of heat out of the other.  Taylor Swift's "Wildest Dreams" is one of the songs I remember playing on the radio.  That moment is the only thing I can think of whenever I hear it.

That was not the end of the evening.