Posts Tagged ‘kisses’

It Bears Repeating

December 29, 2018

The playlist I made you many months ago.

I haven’t listened to it in a while.

Things were hard.

Strange.

Sad.

Oh god were things sad.

I listened to the music and cried.

I stopped listening to it.

But today.

Tonight.

Well.

I dipped back in.

So good.

So damn good.

Just like you baby.

Stolen kisses in the car.

Your head leaned back against the headrest.

The look in your eyes when you look at me.

Oh the magic.

Damn it baby.

You are the best.

I belted out the songs coming home in the car.

The Christmas lights still up, the traffic still slow, everyone still out of town.

Holidaze.

Sweet love.

My love.

My dear.

Dearest, dear.

I felt like I floated home, drifting down towards the sea with all its love gathering in the passing moonlight.

The songs make me goosebump.

I really love you.

It still boggles my mind that I have had you in my life.

I don’t question it.

I don’t have to know why.

I just know that you love me.

And.

I love you.

What will happen.

I don’t know.

I don’t have to.

I just know how I felt tonight.

Song mix on repeat.

Making me smile.

My heart swelled, pushing against my ribcage.

My heart big, swollen, full of this music.

All the songs about you.

I have never made another man a playlist.

Or a mixed tape.

Just to date myself.

I have made you, though, many.

This one is dear to me, though they all are sweet.

This one special.

My first attempt at letting you know musically how much you mean to me.

I think I did a pretty good job.

I had forgotten what songs were on and when one faded and the next came on.

I just smiled harder.

Sang louder.

Felt my love for you grow again.

How is it so?

Extraordinary.

This expansion of love, like the universe.

On and on and on.

Forever and ever.

Amen.

Penny and the Quarters.

Aretha Franklin.

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.

The Cranberries.

Carly Simon.

(You really are the best)

Barbara Lewis.

The Ronnettes.

Bill Withers.

Peggy Lee.

Stevie Wonder.

And last, but oh so not least.

Etta James.

Had to end with a bit of punch.

Like how I feel, knocked down drunk with love on you again.

Smitten kitten.

Me.

Again.

Who knew?

So.

I guess what I am saying.

Well.

It bears repeating.

I am happy.

I got to see you today and there will be more of you to come.

And.

Baby, this bears repeating too.

I’m yours.

Baby.

Sweet baby.

I am so yours.

Now.

And.

Always.

In other words, until eternity.

 

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11 Months Ago

April 4, 2018

Today.

You kissed me in the door way to my heart.

The threshold was crossed.

I have been altered.

Changed.

Irrevocably.

Fast forward.

Today.

Your face.

This morning.

When I said.

“Happy eleven months.”

I had no idea why.

It just.

It just.

It just popped out.

It’s not been a happy eleven months.

Has it baby?

At least not the last few months.

It’s been roller coaster months.

Up and down and side ways.

Kisses in the dark corners of my heart.

Tussles in the sand dunes of my soul.

Tears on my pillow.

Tears on your shoulder.

Tears in my car.

How I have gotten home sometimes I still wonder.

Bleary eyed and heart sore.

Tender in places and spaces inside of me that I did not know existed.

You are so interwoven in me.

Sometimes there is comfort in this, closeness, interconnectedness.

Sometimes.

Pain.

The heart pulled and ripped and torn.

The love though.

The love.

Oh.

The love for you my sweet, sweetest, sweeting love.

So much.

I thought I knew every chamber and echo cavern in my heart.

Then you kiss me, again, here, there, and everywhere.

And.

There is more, there is more space, my rooms, more places.

You engulf me.

I am filled.

Your words in my ears.

Your love like a swaddling comfort to wrap myself in when I am tender.

Sore.

Tired.

“I sure love you,” you said to me, as I lay curled in your arms, adrift on the rise and swell of your breath in your chest.

You don’t remember saying it.

But I do.

Oh.

I do.

And it comforts me when you are not here.

My eyes.

Now.

Full of tears.

My throat choked with love.

Love that hasn’t gone anywhere.

Love that only seems to grow bigger.

Despite being boxed in, held tight, reined in.

Bounded in boundaries.

It slips past and swells into the sunlight.

Rises with faith and hope.

Rises like the uptick of your ribcage underneath my head.

Rises like the words from my mouth

As you drifted off to sleep.

That one night not so long ago.

“I sure love you too.”

 

Beautiful And Drunk

February 20, 2018

Intoxicated.

Tipsy on the way you look at me.

The way you hold me tight.

The feel of your arms around me.

Besotted with you face.

The way it is framed by the window pane behind you.

The view of the river and the dark limbs of trees wet with the falling snow.

Snow.

Magicked from above on your whim.

To sucker punch me with your charms, the brightness of your eyes.

The adoration there.

Dreamy and smitten with you.

There is nothing I could imbibe that would render me more inebriated.

Than your face.

Softly bombed and smote on the laughter that falls from your mouth into my eager ears.

God.

Damn.

How I love you.

I cannot tally all the moments that whirl in my head.

I have snap shots.

Photographs of you.

Kissing your cheek in front of a Rothko.

Holding your hand walking across red brick alleys.

The birds, out of nowhere, singing, harmonizing our love, trilling it loud to the sky.

I turned my face up to that sky and watched the clots of snow drift down, catching some on the tip of my tongue and laughing, knowing that soon you would kiss that self-same mouth.

Sitting across a table from you while music from the soundtrack of our love story played over the speakers.

Snatches of songs that we send one another.

Playlists of longing.

Songs of sorrow and sadness and desires.

Torch songs.

Blues songs.

Love songs for lovers.

All love songs remind me of you now.

But.

Some.

More than others.

You know the ones.

I am woozy with you.

You have gone to my head.

Once again.

Punch drunk on your love.

Enchanted and elated.

Enthralled.

And.

Though I may be foolish.

 

I hear music.

I think of fairy tales.

And.

I want your happily ever after.

I want your love always.

Forever.

I want you.

Won’t you want me too?

Just say you do.

Just please.

Say you do.

 

Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is La Vie En rose

When you kiss me heaven sighs
And though I close my eyes
I see La Vie En Rose

When you press me to your heart
I’m in a world apart
A world where roses bloom

And when you speak…angels sing from above
Everyday words seem…to turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La Vie En Rose.

 

 

 

Frank Sinatra

December 25, 2017

Christmas carols.

Laying in your arms in the glow of the blue lights on the tree.

My heart beat syncopated with yours.

Warm, soft tears slide down my face.

I hope you do not notice.

Content and wrapped in your embrace a softening shelter I did not know I needed.

I think about you.

Love.

And.

Our.

Love.

So many kinds.

Blue love.

Joyful love.

Peanut butter and chocolate chip cookie love.

Christmas carol love.

Hanging filigree ornament love.

Pink bunny love.

Walks on the beach at twilight love.

Butterflies in the garden love.

Flowers wrapped in gunny sacks and tied with twine love.

Candlelight love.

Untold love.

1,000 kisses love.

Tears on my pillow love.

Crows passing red berries in the snow, beak to beak, love.

Love letters love.

Poetry love.

Shameless love.

Not sorry love.

Not safe love.

Hands entwined love.

Squish love.

Passionate love.

Chemistry love.

Alchemical love.

Magic love.

Moonlight love.

Star shine love.

Dressing up in my prettiest dress for you love.

Pink glitter lip gloss love.

Baby girl love.

Dearest, sweetest, tenderest love.

Vulnerable love.

Smash love.

Precious love.

Spectacular love.

Cannot wait to see you love.

Miss you all the time love.

Dreamy love.

All the love I have for you, love.

Christmas Eve love.

Wishing you all the joy love.

All the blessings of love.

All the happiest happiness of love.

For you.

My love.

Wishing you it all.

Merry Christmas baby.

I love you.

 

 

The Moon In The Avocado Tree

December 2, 2017

Reminds me of you.

I sit.

Reflect.

Stare.

Dream.

The sky.

I watch the stars and think of little cable cars.

A movie scene.

Holding your hand.

Climbing the hills of the city.

Trying to get closer to the sky.

Trying to be closer to you.

So.

I wait for you.

Here.

While you are there.

So far away.

My eyes prickle with tears that do not fall.

My heart aches with yearning, longing, wistful wanting.

To hear your voice in my ear on the phone.

My ear aches for your breath to be there against it.

Instead of pressed to the machine carrying your voice.

Through the airways I hear you and long to wrap myself around you.

I miss you.

Oh.

I do.

So much.

Very.

Very.

Very.

Listen, can you hear it, the music, we dance slowly to.

And the afterglow of your

Last kiss on my mouth.

Which flutters awake and brushes me tender.

I need your kisses.

I need them so.

Counting down the minutes and moments until I am in your embrace again.

My face flushed with unbearable heat when I was cold today.

Thinking of you.

Then hearing your voice, husky and warm filled with its own kind of longing.

I still shudder thinking of how we came together.

That we are still together.

That I get to be with you, just not as soon as I want to be, right now.

Soon  you say.

Though.

It.

Is.

Not.

Soon enough.

Never soon enough.

Until you are here and I am smashed with your love.

And when I think of us.

I am in awe.

That this all came about.

You and I.

Some divine design.

Sacred and profound.

Lustful and chemical.

Chimerical.

I could never have imagined this.

Us.

Together.

Though apart.

For the moment.

Thus.

I swear, with all the softness of a dreamy mouth, to keep you close.

Though you are afar.

You are right here.

Ensconced.

In my heart.

At least this is what I tell myself.

While I watch the moon.

Drifting through the avocado tree.

 

 

 

The Language of Love

September 11, 2017

Truths that we experience without speaking.

A synthesis of our kisses.

The emotions expressed in the color of your face.

In the push of your lip.

In the crinkle of laugh lines around your eyes.

You say so much to me.

My heart swells.

The over arching expression of wholeness when I am held by you.

A bubble of time and space that is infinite.

Expansive.

Delirious.

Sometimes I catch you looking at me and I lose my breath.

Sometimes I look at you.

And the wilderness of joy that breaks out inside me.

Well.

It is wondrous.

The opulence of you.

The shine.

Your comeliness makes me swoon.

And your charm.

It is lavish and magnificent.

Our language is poetry and magic.

Music lyrics.

And.

Laughter.

Great big guffaws of it.

You make me sing with laughter.

It spills from me like sunshine.

And sometimes.

When you are far I still feel that you are speaking to me.

I feel it in my body, an ache, incessant, in my bones.

That you touch me without even being in the same room as me.

Your love overspills the boundaries of time and distance.

It kisses me on my forehead.

My cheeks.

My tender face.

Glowing for you in the dusky light just after sunset.

Glimmering at you in my own language of love.

That you may decipher in codes ancient.

A language that needs no words.

Only the smile of you to unlock the meaning.

And I know.

All the way through my body.

How you cherish me.

And you must know.

Yes, you must.

Love.

How.

I.

Cherish.

You.

 

 

 

The Disruption of Love

June 25, 2017

Astonishing this renaming of myself.

As the magic man comes to me.

Leading me.

Leaning into me.

Learning me this new language of passion.

Fledgling on this path of unknown sometimes I startle.

A deer in the woods.

A flock of starlings rise in my heart.

Murmurations of love painted across the sunset sky.

Your face in the light.

Center of my attention.

The planes of your cheekbones.

The shape of your eyes.

Curvature of your lips, the smiles dancing there

A minuet of Mozart.

Slain back, surrendered to you, all distance

Drops, shatters, soft, like petals falling from the shaking boughs

Of apple trees.

Caught and cradled.

Through sunrise.

Moonset.

Feathering kisses across my face

Summoning me into velvet darkness where

Stars splatter with spangles of bright desire.

Astonished by you.

Conjured,

I lay myself before you.

Heart splayed and open

Beating like the wings of the birds flashing against

That burgeoning dusk.

Creating patterns of mystery I never

Knew

Abided within me.

I rise then.

Kissed alive.

Anew.

Graced.

 

By you.

It’s Awful Nice

May 24, 2017

To be missed.

It was obvious that I was missed.

I got so much love at my job today, it really was something else.

From the appreciations I got from the mom for the work I do, to the little ladybug running to meet me when I picked her up at school, to the oldest boy leaning his head against me and just hugging me, and letting me kiss him.

The little girl couldn’t stop kissing me and telling me how much she missed me and that she wasn’t ever going to be mean to me and that she loved me, very much, very, very, very much.

Nothing like having a warm, soft paw in your hand all day and soft sweet kisses–when we walked home from school she insisted on holding my hand the entire time and would kiss it constantly.

I was utterly charmed.

It was a long day, but I mustered through and probably drank a lot more coffee than I should, but I made it and actually don’t feel too jet lagged at this point.

I still woke up too early, and found myself so sacked out last night that I could barely check in with the folks I needed to check in with, but I did get a good night’s sleep.

And a good hot shower in the morning, lots of writing, big mug of coffee and getting myself organized before heading out to work helped a lot.

I also got a few errands run before I headed into work, including mailing my mom a package–I hadn’t been able to send out her Mother’s Day gift before I left for Paris.

I got to get lots of face to face time with the mom at work and we talked about summer schedule, the kids schedule, work, travel, and my internship, which starts on Thursday.

I will have a busy week, but I also will have Monday off next week, it’s a holiday, and I’m super happy for that.

I know that I am busy, that life will be busy, that life is full, but there are moments of reprieve, idyllic hours when the unexpected and sweet happens, the hand in mine, the press of lips against my skin, a kiss bestowed upon me, a sowing of love.

“Carmen, you need to sleep over soon!” She said to me, tugging my hand again and again, “and bring me more stickers.”

I laughed.

I also made them dinner and the kids got their favorites, alphabet pasta with cheese and butter for the oldest boy and alphabet pasta soup with carrots in chicken broth for the little lady, I bounced about while the mom ate–slightly fancier stuff for the parent dinner–sautéed asparagus in olive oil and garlic, bechamel sauce over grass-fed seared beef, quinoa pasta with butter and parmesan, mixed greens salad–with the baby, who’s bright happy smile met mine many times today, I felt he recognized me and it was wonderful to get his big smiles.

It’s nice to be appreciated and I felt that in spades today.

When I went to leave the little lady jumped up from her chair at the dinner table and hollered “NO!”

But I told her I would be back soon and that we would have more adventures tomorrow and she can’t wait, “cuz I have a dentist appointment tomorrow!”

Dentists are a lot more fun then they were in my day.

I have a dentist appointment on Saturday, I am not nearly as excited as my charge, not by far, of course I’ll be getting novocaine shot into my gum line instead of a big red balloon, so that may be why.

And while my little charge was chatting excitedly, her older brother said, soft and under his breath, but audible to me, “but I get you when she’s at the dentist, we get to be all by ourselves, I get you for me.”

Aw!

Love buttons.

I felt adored today.

Not just appreciated, but adored and that is a damn fine way to feel, especially at work.

I am grateful for the family and all that I get to do for them.

It’s so much easier to be present and available when I am appreciated and then I just want to do an even better job.

That’s how I am.

It makes having to work full-time while I am doing school and my internship and all the other things, so much easier.

It really does.

It’s work, don’t get me wrong, I do a lot for the family, but it is also a joy and I am beyond grateful for them.

And for my life.

It is rich and varied and so full of unexpected happiness I am constantly surprised and joyful in my person.

In my tired, still slightly jet lagged but yes, very happy, person.

I think I’ll have the jet lagged licked by tomorrow, Thursday at the latest.

I have an appreciation for it though, everything seems dreamy and surreal, the fog, the soft coolness on my skin, the music I have been listening to, the hot showers and the warmth of my bed when I crawl into it at night.

Dreamy and swaddled in.

Softened and bending.

Surrendered to the woozy and the swoon.

The drowsed light and the refracted love notes of jazz.

Cocooning me in succor.

Baby, sweet baby.

Slumber drifting on the swell of moon rising in the night.

Ghostships of desire.

Latent and laden.

Tipsy in the cusp of dawn.

The cashmere softness of pre-sunrise and smoked grey of early morning.

Plush with promise.

And.

Smocked velvet kisses.

Boarding

May 12, 2017

Not that I will be boarding soon, I have about an hour and thirty minutes before my plane starts to board.

But.

I am in the boarding area to London.

Where I will have an hour layover and then.

Yes.

Paris.

I will arrive in Paris tomorrow at 5:15p.m.

About 24 hours from right now.

Of course, Paris is 12 hours ahead and the time traveling is not actually 24 hours.

There is some time travel happening.

In a manner of speaking.

My flight to London is 11 hours 45 minutes.

Yawn.

That’s a long time.

I hopefully will take a very big nap.

I am nervous about my ankle, it’s hard to travel with a sprain, the air pressure in the cabin, having it lower than it should be, I should have it elevated as much as I can, but that’s not going to happen.

I am also sitting in the boarding area early hoping to chat with the flight crew.

I want to see if I can switch seats.

I’m in the middle.

I have done a long flight in the middle before, but not with a bad ankle.

I am going to see if they have anything in first class, smile real big and bat my eyes.

Although, I’m not one to really use feminine wiles to get my way, a smile, and a please and a thank you generally go far.

I use my manners more than anything else.

I doubt it will happen, but I will ask.

Can’t hurt to ask.

And.

I will ask for getting on early so that I don’t have to hobble on with every one else.

I definitely needed extra time to get through security.

I kept my shoes on and my ankle brace on and the security did a pat down and a chemical swipe of my shoes.

It was rather funny, but I wasn’t in a hurry and I was glad that they let me keep my shoes on.

I have my ankle wrapped pretty well and my plain Jane sensible walking shoes on.

I do hope that I will be able to do the museums and to be able to get to some spots that I want to.

Fuck.

At this moment I have completely changed my thoughts and plans regarding my flight, I am sitting in the boarding area next to a very loud woman who is reciting a great deal of evangelical text at great volume.

Listen lady.

It’s too late to save me.

I’ve already saved myself.

Take your proselytizing and go elsewhere.

PS.

I can’t hear you anymore now that I put on my oversized Head Candy noise cancelling headphones.

All I can here is the playlist my French friend put together for me.

“Pour Carmen.”

Merci bein mon amie, je t’aime trop la musique.

I also have been doing the internet fall into a hole looking at all the fun stuff that is happening in Paris this upcoming weekend and week.

I almost got into to the pop up sauna that is at the Moulin Rouge, but it was fully booked.

Oh well.

There are plenty of things to do.

I have been popping around the Time Out Paris magazine.

It’s fun to pursue all the things.

I don’t actually have any agenda anymore.

I can’t do Paris the way that I have done in previous years, at a full tilt boogie.

Nope.

I will be going slow.

I will be soaking in the City of Lights.

I shall be walking slow.

Moving slow.

Seeing it all.

Taking it in.

I’ll still go to plenty of museums, how can I not, but I will be pretty strategic about it, I don’t think I will do the Louvre, I mean, I may, but only a few certain parts, I will have to pick maybe one wing and then one floor instead of trying to do two of the wings, it’s just miles of walking and I don’t have miles of walking in me.

I figure I will find my spot and sit and stare at some art and get my fill.

Fuck.

I don’t know what I am going to do.

I am just going.

I mean I really do have to toss out all the ideas I had about what I would be up to.

I have to scale way back.

But.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing for me.

A little restraint.

That can be a good thing.

I know I will have an amazing time and I know I will have adventures.

I will meet people, I will see old friends.

In fact, I have a date to go to Rue Madame with a friend on Sunday and catch up with him and some fellows and then off to stroll, hobble, around Les Jardins de Luxembourg.

That’s the Luxembourg Gardens, if you didn’t figure that out.

I will definitely be sitting still more than I have in the past and I am thinking I may use the buses a lot more than when I lived there, the stairs up and down the Metro are going to be hard.

I can’t dash.

So, maybe staying street level most the time.

And going places where I can really get a lot of bang for my buck, like the city center, the Marais, etc.

Ah.

It’s all good.

I’m ok.

I get to go, my ankle wasn’t so badly sprained that I can’t get out of bed.

I mean, had it been as severe as the one I sustained three years ago I would have been fucked.

I probably would have cancelled the trip.

So.

I am grateful, super grateful, for that and I will not bitch or complain.

I shall take the experience as it has been given to me with a great big smile and a very sincere Merci bien.

Trop merci.

Merci beaucoup.

Ooh.

The flight crew is coming in.

Got to jet.

Er.

Hobble off.

Into the sunset.

See you in Paris!

Trop bisoux pour toi.

xxxxxx

Soft And Sleepy

February 18, 2016

That would be me.

I was up late last night and that was lovely, it happens sometimes, I go to bed late, things happen, life moves forward, the moon rides the waves over Ocean Beach and the sand presses in between my toes and I carry these small particles of love and salt into the grey morning.

It was far later than I thought it would be when I got up and moving.

The very grey skies gave me the illusion that it was still early.

It was not.

I got up, did my routine, got on with my day.

Really.

It was superiorly mellow and chill.

I did the deal.

I did the writing.

I did the Applied Spirituality homework, but I didn’t really do any other school work, I wasn’t feeling it.

I was soft and sweet and slow today.

I even, wait for it.

NAPPED.

The rain.

The sound of rain outside my back door, the patter of it on the patio the splash of it against the window pane.

I drifted in and out and lay, like Ophelia, with my hands clasped over my chest, my Converse kicked to the floor, my head a soft halo of loose curls tumbling over a velveteen pillow, my skirt billowed out, the crinoline a heap of fluffy icing.

I have been dressing pretty for myself all week and that has been so much fun.

I went to ModCloth’s Fit Shop yesterday and I had an actual fitting session.

It was spectacular.

I don’t have a lot of time to shop, and even when I do, like I have time this week, I am often loath to spend free time wandering in and out of stores.

It exhausts me.

If I know what I want, then I’m good, but just browsing can really just be too much, unless I’m in some sweet little neighborhood or visiting a city or museum, then I’m all about the shopping.

I wanted to go into the Fit Shop after I got my last dress and it was just such a fail.

REALLY.

I mean.

I have a nice figure, my bust is not supposed to look so squished and small and weird.

I was happy to get down town, then, and have the help of the team at the Fit Shop–a brick and mortar downtown on Grant and I think Stockton.

Basically the shop is full of clothes and they keep one of each size they have from petite 0s to 4x.

I mean, really anybody could find a cute dress or outfit there.

For me it’s that I don’t have a great idea of what I look like.

I either think I am bigger than I am.

Or smaller.

I have been rather hit and miss with the sizing chart in the online store.

I got measured.

I got my size.

Then I wandered around the store with a clipboard and wrote down any dress or top or outfit that I wanted to try on.

I tried on ten or twelve things.

I was ecstatic to find a sweetheart of a dress that I would have never bought online and it was a great fit and super flattering.

I felt like spinning around the store.

I also got a sweet cropped red cardigan, a sky blue slip with lace trim, and the perfect tunic shirt dress, amazing fit and again, not anything I would have even looked twice at ordering online, in faded blue.

I spent half the money I was prepared to spend.

The only thing that was a tiny bit disappointing was not being able to walk out of the store with my goodies.

However.

They gave me a discount for coming in and also expressed shipped it at no extra cost.

So I have some lovely things to wear soon.

I am looking forward to it.

It really has been nice letting myself dress up and wear things that make me happy.

I also cleaned out my closet today.

If it doesn’t bring me joy when I hold it I’m going to toss it or sell it if I think I can at Crossroads.

I was able to clean out some stuff that I wasn’t wearing and was just old and then cull a few things out that I just never wear, doesn’t make me happy, or doesn’t quite fit.

I got rid of all the things and hopped the N-Judah to the Inner Sunset.

I mailed the return dress back to ModCloth–I’ll be using that credit now that I know what to look for!

Then I sold 3/4s of what I had to Cross Roads.

I treated myself out to lunch then donated the remainder of the clothing.

I thought briefly of trying to sell it, but it just wasn’t worth hauling around anymore and the rain was starting to come in.

I just slipped back on the train after lunch and came back down to the house.

I made a cup of tea and luxuriated in some non-graduate school reading.

Then.

The nap.

So lovely.

When I woke up I made some nice dinner and then headed up to see some fellows over at the Sunset Youth Services.

I got my God on real good and now I’m back here.

Oh!

And I renewed my FAFSA for next year’s graduate school.

A little crazy that.

But not nearly as anxiety producing and nerve wracking as it was the first time I filled it out.

Pleased I am.

Life is good.

I am good.

I am blessed.

The soft rain on my face, upturned to the wind and the caress, a kiss on my neck, the lovely air on the stars adorning me.

I am a star.

Just another gathering of God light in this Universe sweetly shining in my little space.

Down by the sea.

Happy.

And.

Content.


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