So happy for my best friend!!

We went shopping for her wedding dress today! She and I have been friends for 30 years... more years than some of you have lived!

Congratulations Melissa & Gary!

I love you!!

A pic from her shower, later:

Letters Unsent

Dear Joe,
I liked you a lot. What we thought was real was only puppy love. Then we both expanded our worlds. I heard you were getting married the other day and spending the rest of your life with someone else. I just want to let you know that I hope you’re happy.

Dear Kevin,
We learned so much. We were immature when we met and bonded our lives together. I was so afraid of life I put the burden upon your shoulders, from the bottom of my heart; I’m sorry for that. Even though you treated me poorly, you were the only one who loved me for who I am and didn’t have expectations. You never once regretted loving me, but it just scared you away.

Dear Ben,
We cared so deeply it surprised me in the end. What you said to others did not justify how you treated me. Why couldn’t you talk to me? I always listened. But it was always silent, and I had to go. It was too cold.

Dear Fred,
I like you muchly. I was vulnerable and I saw the light shining from within your heart. I didn’t know how to show you how much you meant to me. If you could grant me one request, don’t forget me. Or our joint-custody dog Siggy.

Dear Shawn,
I cared too much. As a teenager, I would’ve sold my soul for a boy like you. But I’m afraid I don’t have that in me anymore. Everything in your life was dark and cold. I thought I could be the one to change that. You tried to be deep with your philosophies on life, but failed miserably. Please be careful, not everyone can take your depression like I can.

Dear Edgar,
For you it was all for fun, and that – we had. I just needed more than you could give me. You said you needed time. You said you needed space. You said you couldn’t be tied down right now. I saw you the other day with your new girlfriend. She’s pretty; seems sweet.

Dear Dave,
You showed me what it was to truly love someone. I wish that was all I needed. I made decisions for us; you made them for yourself. I am tired of that escalator ride, it broke. and I don't know how to repair it. Everything before you was just practice for the real thing. I can’t wait for the future and what I am sure it brings us; our lives together. I love that you listen, and truly hear what I have to say. My heart grows with every act of love and thoughtfulness you commit.

Feeling

Dreaming; I’m not sleeping
Have I died,
Or been brought to life?

Swimming; as I’m sinking
I’m holding on to you,
Letting go.

Naked; I like you naked
And when I fake it,
You like me more.

Exploring; The taste I’m touching
You’re watching me,
I’m watching you.

How does it feel?
Making love to me like you do.
How would it feel?
To make love to you the way I do.

Tell me; who would you be?
Would you be me?
The woman in me?

I want; I want to know
What you’re feeling
I want to crawl under your skin
I want to know how you feel in me.
Your touch
Your feeling

Finally

Oh how long I have waited
For this moment to arrive.
You walk up
And kiss me;
The world disappears.

Many years of experiences,
Many like this.
They did not prepare me for
Reacting like
It was my first kiss.

I swoon.
You hold me.
And finally,
I am complete.

I love you!!

Opposites Attract

want to see you
naked
across the room

dancing to flames
tingling ablaze
hotter than kindling

silhouetted against
the wall

your shadow
in rhythm

imagine
your golden sheen
searing scented flesh

hear your voice
trumpeting
an idea

the past
is forgotten

opposites
still attract

nothing is so futile
as when love
is held back

Private Thoughts

Remembering you
naked
joined to my half-covered self

bodies cooling
from the fire
chaos swimming in minds

skin tingling
yearning, burning
from the slightest touch

hearts beating
in a rhythm
called unison

sweat glistening
sheening, maybe
even blending

the future
could be seen

do opposites
still attract?

Nothing is more lonesome
than shadowed light
remembering

I may never get married.....

I had a literature class. We had to journal what we were reading:

It was a typical knight’s tale including the castle, status as a favorite of the king, the beautiful wife, all followed by, of course, envy and slander. Thus begins the story of Eliduc. At first, the knight Eliduc garners your sympathy by being honorable, brave, and an exemplary model to follow: Eliduc serves faithfully, is in charge of the king’s territories, and is also given royal favors because of his performance and service. After Eliduc is slandered in his native France and dismissed by the king, Eliduc voluntarily places himself in exile and travels to England to see if he can fare any better there. Eliduc’s experiences in England almost mirror what has occurred to him up until this point in France: invited to live in the castle, status as a favorite of the king as well, the castle, and a beautiful young girl who falls in love with him. Similar, but let us not forget that Eliduc is already married in France and is committing adultery if he pursues it. Women have more control, even unknowingly, over men’s lives than they realize.

In England, Eliduc encounters his first sign of trouble – the king’s young daughter, Guilliadun. After spending some time together, the Guilliadun and Eliduc have apparently fallen head-over-heels in love together. After they make their love known to one another, Eliduc is summonsed home to France, and Eliduc makes plans to return home, but only after making a promise to Guilliadun to return to get her on a date of her choosing. Upon returning home, Eliduc is reunited with his lawful wife, Guildeluec who has remained faithful to him. But Guildeluec notices a behavior in Eliduc that is surly and secretive and plots to find out the reason why.

Upon Eliduc’s return to France, he spirits away the young Guilliadun by ship to England. Upon the boat ride home there is such a storm that all the sailors believe the worst is going to happen. One of the sailors blames the young girl, shouting that they should throw her overboard as Eliduc is defying God, and his proper wife at home by remaining with Guilliadun. This is the first time Guilliadun learns that Eliduc is married. In her shock at Eliduc’s marriage, and fearing for her life because of the sailor’s threats, Guilliadun faints, and falls to the deck without breath or sign of consciousness. Believing Guilliadun to be dead, Eliduc brings her body to a chapel in the woods to bury her. Yet after many days, Guilliadun still appears alive with rosy cheeks, pink skin, just faintly pale. Eliduc visits the chapel in secret every day, but his wife Guildeluec has him followed to discover once and for all why he is so miserable. The queen journeys to the chapel herself, and upon finding the young girl in repose, and being pretty sharp herself, she knows that the young girl Guilliadun is her husband’s mistress and the reason for his unhappiness and grief. In a magical moment of watching a weasel resurrect its dead mate with a mysterious life-giving flower, Guildeluec restores Guilliadun to consciousness and assures her of Eliduc’s love and devotion. Upon returning to the castle and reuniting the two lovers, Guildeluec observes the overwhelming love between Guilliadun and Eliduc. Realizing the depth of the love and the happiness in her husband, Guildeluec asks her husband to separate from her so she can become a nun and he can marry the girl whom he loves. This is the only way that a man can ‘legally’ marry a second woman in God and the church’s view. Guildeluec sacrifices her own lifestyle to become a nun in order for the man she married, and loves still, to be happy. Guildeluec loved Eliduc so much that she renounced their marriage for him to marry another.

What a woman.....

Push You Down

I said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been good enough,
I’m a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in.
I don’t know if I’ve ever been really loved,
By a hand that’s touched me, and I feel like something’s
Going to give... and I’m a little bit angry.”

This isn’t over, no not here, not while I still
Need you around. You don’t owe me,
We might change, we just might feel good.

I said, “I don’t know why you would ever lie to me,
Like I’m a little untrusting when I think the truth
is going to hurt you.

And I don’t know why you just couldn’t stay with me.
You couldn’t stand to be near me,
When my face didn’t seem to want to shine.
Because it’s a little bit dirty.”

Don’t just stand there, saying nice things to me.
I’ve been cheated, I’ve been wronged.
And you don’t know me, I can’t change that.
So, I won’t do anything at all.

But don’t bowl me over, just wait one minute.
It kind of fell apart, things got so crazy.
So, don’t rush this, let me enjoy my moment.

I would love to push you down, I wish I could.
I would love to push you around, maybe someday.
I would love to take you for granted, in the exact same way.

Twisted

His touch so soft
Like the velvet on my torn dress

His kiss so sweet
Like nectar of pure sugar cane

But as electrifying as an outlet
To live the dream of queen

Only for one moment
As I lie in a bed of softly scented feathers
The smell of dried rose petals
Comes over me

As his shadow creases my spirit
As I scream in ecstasy
Wanting and yearning for no end.
Can this feeling last for ever?

My eyes open, my heart grows fonder
My legs twitch

Can I say the words that are open in my heart?
Can I indulge in sentence of lust and love?
Intertwined

My breath escapes me
My limbs fall
As my eyes close and open again for
Last time

That love will never be forgotten!

Near You Always

Please don’t say, “I love you."
Those words touch me much too deeply.
And they make my core tremble.
Don’t think you realize the power you have over me.
And please don’t come so close,
It just makes me want to make you near me always.

Please don’t kiss me so sweet,
It makes me crave a thousand kisses to follow.
And please don’t touch me like that,
Makes every other embrace seem pale and shallow.
Please don’t look at me like that,
It just makes me want to make you near me always.

Please don’t send me flowers,
They only whisper the sweet things you’d say.
Don’t try to understand me,
Your hands already know too much anyway.
It just makes me want to make you near me always.

And when you look into my eyes,
Please know my heart is in your hands.
It’s nothing that I understand, but when in your arms,
You have complete power over me.

So be gentle if you please,
Because your hands are in my hair,
But my heart is in your teeth.
And it makes me want to make you near me always.

Him...

You’re lying face down on the bed, pressing your cheek against the pillow. The sheets are itchy and stiff because you bought them the day before, just for this occasion. The little pink flowers in the print are too feminine for your taste, but they match the new painting on the walls of the room and that was what was important at the time.

You hear his footsteps enter the room. You close your eyes and pretend that you’re dozing, hoping he doesn’t realize how much his being here means to you. You begin a steady rhythm of breathing and silently willing your heart to slow.

He crawls into the bed and the mattress slumps under his weight. The combined scent of him and new sheets fills your nostrils as he settles himself next to you. His leg wraps around yours while his arm drapes over your back, fingertips lightly rubbing your skin through your shirt.

You feel his whiskers scratch against your upper arm. You turn your face towards him and absorb his features, hoping to memorize every detail, so you can remember them on those nights when you’re alone and needing that space filled. You know his eyes are gray-brown and that his face is round. But you had forgotten about his slight overbite and his cleft chin. You’re surprised that you forgot about this, the one thing that had attracted you to him in the first place.

You reach your hand out and with your index finger, push against the tender skin of his chin. You smile at his reaction of sighing and closing his eyes. Your heart swells and you feel the lump of tears that always seem to come when you’re with him, threaten. You stop yourself from telling him the truth that would scare him away if he knew. You chant over and over to yourself that this moment is only what it is: a moment.

He opens his eyes and turns to face you. He smiles sheepishly and hugs you tighter. He rubs his nose against yours and his smile grows wider.

“Have I told you how glad I am to be here?” He asks.

You feel your stomach grow warm and the back of your neck tightens. You smile back and stroke his face with your fingers.

“I’m glad you’re here too,” You whisper. “You don’t even know how much.”

You feel him squeeze you harder in reaction. You grow very still and stare at his mouth, remembering how his lips feel when they touch yours.

As if he hears your prayers, he brings his head forward.

.....To Ask

“Ask that man you’re sleeping next to about Tori Olson,” The woman’s voice on the other end of the line accuses.

I sit up straight in the bed. My heart skips several beats in fear. “What? What did you say?”
The phone goes click and the line is dead. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and grab the other part of the phone closer to me.

“Hello? Hello?” I yell at the dial tone. Finally, I give up. I rest the receiver back and set the phone on the bedside table.

I can’t move. I sit on the edge of the mattress and stare out the window. My mind is so jumbled; I can’t make a coherent thought. A wave of dizziness overtakes me, reminding me to breathe.

On the other side of the bed, he sighs in his half-awakened state. I force myself to be perfectly still and begin praying he’ll fall back asleep.

To my disappointment, he rolls over and rests his fingertips against the small of my back.

“Hmmm, who was that?” He asks, in a groggy voice.

I stand up and walk closer to the window, needing to get away from his touch. I know I should ask. Find out what that woman was talking about. Who’s Tori Olson?

Instead, the fear of knowing the truth forces me to shrug and nonchalantly answer, “No one. Wrong number.”

I keep my back to him. If he sees my face, he’ll know that I’m lying. So, I stare out at the darkness damning myself for not trusting him and damning him for not trusting me.

From the bed I hear deep, even breathing. I turn around and watch the curled up, sleeping lump buried beneath the sheets. Only his closed eyes and a tuft of dark hair can be seen.

What kind of man are you?! I scream inside my head. After only five months, you need someone else. And just who the Hell is Tori Olson? What does she have that I can’t seem to give you?

I cross my arms over my chest, staring at his slumbering body, but really I’m looking through it. I think about this other woman and what she must be like. I picture blonde hair that flows down a thin back with protruding shoulder blades. A pert nose placed upon a heart-shaped face, with innocent eyes of blue. Innocence like that pond we visited that first weekend after our first date. How the blue color of the water was pure, but screamed to know the curiosity of what it was like to be disturbed.

And that’s just what we had done. Without telling me what he was going to do, he had stripped out of his jeans and jumped in the pond wearing those plaid boxers. I had laughed in embarrassment when he begged me to join him. Suddenly, throwing caution to the wind, I had taken off my clothes, leaving only my undergarments on. We had spent the afternoon in our underwear playing in that freezing water, disrupting its peace with ripples of inquisitive waves.

Now there was "Tori Olson" to break our tranquility by bringing out my insecurity and fear. I hate this woman. She’s a symbol of proof that the people I care about could leave in an instant for something better. She has the power to break not only my relationship with him, but also my will to love.

Suddenly, he raises his head jerking me out of my thoughts. In the moonlight, his skin looks pale. His eyes are shadowed making him look as if he were wearing sunglasses. He smiles and holds his arm out to me. The shock of the cold night air hits my skin. I realize I’m standing totally naked before him. I know he wants me to come to him, but I can’t. I feel disgust flow through my veins causing my stomach to lurch. The thought of him touching me, tasting me, knowing me makes me feel violated and used. As if I’m a second choice. A woman who’s conveniently here, but not the one he wants.

I search the room for my robe. I find it in the corner where I threw it earlier when passion was something I couldn’t live without. I pick it up and shrug into it, keeping my eyes on the floor like a child who’s being punished.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I say in a guilty voice. I saunter out of the bedroom, feeling his eyes burning through the material of my robe. I see his confused expression following me into the bathroom. I know my over dramatic behavior is ridiculous and something he’s never seen before, but I’m too angry to explain. I just want to be alone and wallow in my self-pity that Tori Olson is able to bring out.

In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face. My cheeks are burning with emotions I swore I’d never show him. I raise my head up and look into the mirror of the medicine cabinet above the sink. My reflection doesn’t look like me. I look small and child-like.

The phone rings again. I fly out of the bathroom, hoping to answer it before he does. But I’m too late. He picks up the receiver before it has a chance to ring again. I come to a dead stop in the middle of the bedroom.

“Hey,” He says, in a voice full of sleep.

I can hear the edges of a female voice, the barbs.

He hangs up while the voice is still going on. Then he gets out of bed and undoes the jack.

I squint at him, waiting. He walks over to me, grabs my hand and pulls me toward the bed. With a sense of masculinity, but not force, he pushes me to lie down. He crawls into bed and curls up next to me, facing me. He brings his head down so our foreheads touch.

“I guess,” He says in a slow voice, as if he’s trying to think of the right words to say. “that I’d better tell you about Tori Olson. You deserve to know.” She was crazy, he says, underage, a runaway. There was, as he puts it, “just no getting by her.”

My body is stiff, tight with fear. “You mean you slept with her?”

I feel him nodding, yes.

“When?” I ask him. I’m amazed to find my voice.

“I don’t know,” He shrugs. “A year or two ago.”

“Oh,” I start laughing with relief, even looking straight at him. “I thought you meant now. These past few months.”

But he isn’t laughing with me. He’s shaking his head. “No, now there’s just you. But I still think you’d better hear what I have to say.”

“I don’t want to be in bed with you and hear about someone else,” I push away from him and roll off the bed. “I’m getting a beer.”

I head to the kitchen and hear him say, “Okay, then.”

He follows me, naked, into the kitchen. I open the refrigerator, grab two bottles of beer, and hand him one.

He walks over to the counter and leans his back against the tile. I walk to the table and sit down in the chair
facing him. The cap of his beer goes hiss when he turns it off the bottle. He sets the bottle on the counter and fiddles with the cap in his fingers.

I watch him turn the sharp edged cap around and around in his fingers. He isn’t looking at me; he’s staring at the floor deep in thought. I know he’s trying to think of the best way to tell me about her, so I wait patiently for him to begin. He takes a deep breath before he talks. A cleansing breath, I think.

“I couldn’t get away from her,” He says. “I couldn’t get free. And I had to, I knew that I did... and so I packed up everything I owned and I rented a trailer and I…..” He shrugs and stops to look at me.
I’m horrified. I supposed I look it.

“That seems so excessive,” I say.

“It was. It was excessive in every way. It was….” He looks pained, remembering.

And I feel like an ancient, a crone, thinking of him with this girl who was underage. She was fucking his brains out, probably.

“I don’t think I want to hear the rest,” I say.

“But you need to,” He says and takes another breath.

He was married then, and his wife had rented Tori Olson a room.

“And then she left me, went to Florida. Left me in the house with this girl.”

“Whose idea was it?” I ask.

He shrugs again. “I don’t know. Everybody’s probably. We were pretty nearly always high.”

I am never high. I don’t do anything, no drugs, hardly any alcohol. I think of how tame I must seem.

“It was a weird time. A very weird time.” He says. Then he goes silent.

I am freezing cold, partly because of the air and partly because of the past dread. I think I might cry and I wonder why. This Tori Olson was way before we met. But it isn’t Tori Olson, it isn’t. It is the life he led.

We are like that, still and apart for awhile, and then I feel him edging near.

I watch him approach me. Naked and vulnerable like a newborn baby. At my feet, he drops to his knees and lays his head on my lap. I stroke his hair, bending forward as far as I can. My robe has opened up, exposing my legs and I can feel the hair on his chest tickle my thighs. I smell the familiar scent of him and my love for him right then is excruciating.

He never says he loves me when I do. He says it when I’m wholly unaware. Like he’ll be driving off to the liquor store, say, and he’ll have the pickup running, even turned around.

I’ll be standing there, maybe weeding or something, maybe bringing in the laundry.

I’ll wonder why the truck is sitting there, idling, and I’ll look up to see him staring at me.

“I love you,” He’ll say, and he’ll floor the thing so that the wheels churn and gravel spits everywhere.

And me, I just sit there and churn too, churn with wanting my arms around him right then. Wanting to close him off inside.

He lifts his head off my lap and looks up at me. His eyes are tired. He kisses my knee.

“I love you,” I whisper. “I wish you would tell me the same.”

He stands up and holds out his hands to help me out of my chair, but he doesn’t let go of my hands right away. He looks at me deep in my eyes and says, “Maybe someday soon, I’ll be able to.”

He turns and walks out of the kitchen, back into the bedroom. I hear him get into bed, sighing before he lays his head on the pillow. I stand in the darkness of the kitchen, listening, feeling very small, very his, but willingly so.

“Whatever you want,” I whisper in the still, lonely air.

And then I wait.....