all i have to give

all i have to give
which is worth
anything
is
my sincerity...
my truth
my belief that human nature is essentially good
my hope that love is more than a possibility
my prayers to God
my faith that God is listening
my ability to nurture
these words scrawled on the wall of my imagination...


all i have...
is my ability to love
(unconditionally)


people who lie
and deceive
truly confuse me
why do they hurt themselves like that?
why do they harm others?
why don't they realize that words can cause senseless violence?



i am naive.
i am trusting.
i am emotional.

"dramatic,"
he says.

am i emotionally dramatic?

if so, i wonder,
why?

i feel deeply.
and love fiercely.

i feel intensely
use evocative & suggestive language
think provacative thoughts
enjoy being blatantly sexual

i am wide open
i jump into life with my own brand of wild abandon
i will love you just because you need to be loved...
i will love you just because i want to...

how do you love someone who has been slashed open?
how do you love someone whose pain eclipses...
anything you've known?

i suppose that
you
just


do.


i have no words.
i have no wisdom.
i have no way to make it make sense.

what happened to him was senseless.


how do you teach someone
to trust
you
when his trust has been so misused?

wait
hope
pray
and
be quiet...
words mean nothing to someone who has been fed lies.


i worry that my emotionality will be misconstrued,
misunderstood,
and maybe
held against me.
(because i have only words to express these feelings,
only thoughts to process these emotions...)


i can only be...
what i am.

i can only give...
all that i have to give.

time, another time

today,

i opened the mail
and
found a bright red envelope
containing a movie
a thriller

and thought
of him

and wanted to watch it
with him

i called
and
he was busy
busy with his list of
self-styled obligations
things to do
chores
and
ambition of productivity

"no, there's no energy
for socialiizing"
his tone implied

and i am left feeling...
content
with his reply

i do
want to see
and
i do
look forward
to when
there will be time

there is no scarcity
of time

there will be time
another time

i'm also feeling good
because
i want him
in my life

realizing with pleasure
i don't
need him

realizing with a smile
how much i
care about
him

there will be time
because
love is not binding
is not demanding
or possessive

love waits

and




love




is worth

waiting

for another time

wakeful wondering

i walked past his window
with two dogs in tow

his windows were lit
and
i made rhe assumption
that
he was inside

i wondered if
possibly
he was alone
and wanted to call


but i've erased his number...
for just such occasions

i walked the dogs
along the route
and just when
and just where
i should have anticipated
but did not anticipate...

where his vehicle might be

i saw headlights
and doubted
and hoped
and wished it would be him

but i could not look
until it passed me

only knowing in that second
that it was him

leaving me wonder...
did he see me?
was he alone?
did he wonder why i was walking at midnight?

two hours later...
i am laying in bed




wondering




i imagine the light still on
and

the
apartment


empty


i imagine him elsewhere
and not


alone

pendantic emotional tyrade: ode to dorothy parker

here i stand,

quite literally,

naked in front of

you.


whomever you are.

here

i
am.

with all of my raw emotion
my honest fucking thoughts
and
my most sincere


words.






i am angry
and frustrated.

i am in a state of emotional imploding.

i am agitated.

and i am typing loudly.

i am feeling loudly.


he
is
just
being

honest.

i am sitting naked. my head is filled with the thoughts of a woman scorned.

tossed aside.

i am in emotional resonance with dorothy parker. i am wearing her words upon my soul like a second skin.
you might as well live, eh?



i am trying to capture a little bit of honesty with my words.
a small glimpse of why this matters.
a small moment of my personal truth.

would that i could and possibly i should

barbie got drunk

and wanted to talk about love...



about him

and
me


it kinda scared me.
i am not excluding the possibility of love

but it is a conditional posssibility.

i could...

i might...


love is
an evolution

requiring a mixture of time and trust.


i have dove into a sense of familiarity with him.




(i am typing these words
in his apartment
without him here.)



i refuse to poke around.

i am comfortable not prying.

everything i need to know...



he will tell me.




i amazed at how fully i believe that simple sentence to be true.

his skin's familiarity

am i scared of being too happy?

(sound of rain drumming on the roof)



relationships confuse me.
how do you live in the moment?
how do you suspend fear?



being with him seems so natural...

his mind is turned on by the same ideas that excite me.
we share intimacies and bedhave intimately.
he enjoys the food that i enjoy.
i can swear in front of him and he, in front of me.
his body feels good whenever touching my body.
sleeping naked beside him feels natural.

i love touching him, and he loves being touched.

we are simply enjoying being together.




i have no idea how long this will last.
i am hoping to be friends with him the rest of my life...

yet, i am hesitant.


we are still getting to know each other.


why do i trust him so easily?
i am, normally, more guarded towards men.
why do i feel like smiling whenever i see him smile?



i am imagining rubbing him head to toe in warm oils...
i want to nurture him,
protect him,
lick his wounds,
and

love

him?

i am astonished.
he gets me.
he knows things about me
and

i

feel
known.


why does trusting him seem so very natural?


yes, i could love this man very deeply.

is love an emotion or a choice?
do we choose to fall in love?

want

i am in bed


alone



listening to.... the Nickelback web music station.




i am overwhelmed with underwhelming emotions.


a slow simmering sadness.

an ache.

a longing.




i want to be held...

i don't want to want...





i want to crawl into his arms.
i ache to feel his breath on my neck.
my fingers miss his skin.


i long for a stranger's bed.

solipsistic mental masturbation

"casablanca" rick says, "who are you really and who were you before? what did you do and what did you think, huh?"

i am diving headlong into...
is it sex?
or love?
or intimacy?
are these elements combining or remaining like oil hovering on the surface of water?

(a lovely image: swirling colours but as far as a reality, perplexing)

is the plunging forward an act of courage?
or faith?
is it an act of unbridled optimism?
uninhibited passion?
is it, perhaps, sheer folly?


i am trying to gauge this person,
trying to create...






i must pause and ask myself:
who am i really?
who was i before?
what did i do?
and what did i think?



i overthink everything...
to the point that i sometimes, "know" nothing.


you can be so honest
so truthful
that one's words wind up being convuluted with meaning.

"i should never have studied philosophy," i quip to myself.