Posts Tagged ‘lust’

Translucent Honey

September 12, 2019

On the time that covers you.

Golden down

Whisper quick

Flicked with lust

And

The first kiss

Blush of love.

September sun against surreal

Blue skies.

Your eyes

Blue too.

Pupils dilated.

I remember.

Oh soft my heart that does always bear such remembrance.

Push my memories aside.

Focus on the now

Cloud of time.

Reminisce no more my love.

Lost in songs,

Mixed tapes,

Love letters,

Tattooed messages of

Forever

&

Eternity.

Momentos of our brief,

Too brief.

So brief.

Why so fucking brief?

Time.

Yet there.

There

It goes again.

In the whippet quick beat of my heart

Pulse dancing to the possibility

That one day.

Oh.

One day.

I will.

(yes please)

See you again.

Until then my sweet.

 

~Stay golden~

 

How The Hell

January 19, 2018

Did that happen?

I’m back in school tomorrow.

I just printed off my syllabus for a class.

I haven’t read a thing, not that there was a thing to read, not that I’m aware of, there probably is a thing or fifteen that I’m supposed to read, but the syllabus that was up for the class I printed off doesn’t technically have text books that I have to buy.

I’ll be using materials from previous classes.

It’s called Integrative Seminar and it’s like a master’s thesis class in which I will expound upon all the learning I have done in the past years of work.

I have learned a lot.

A lot.

“Carmen, sometimes that’s the hardest thing,” my therapist said recently, “you have done the emotional work and you are aware and you are educated and it can be really hard to see things that other people haven’t seen for themselves.”

Ayup.

I mean.

Then again, it’s always easier to see someone else’s problems, they’re not yours, so you’re not invested, it’s a different perspective.

My “problems” are mine and special.

I mean, hello, they’re mine, of course they’re special.

But.

The learning, it has been a lot and I have become very self-aware.

What works for me, what doesn’t, how my emotions are not something to be afraid of but signs to point me in the way I need to be going.

I don’t always care for emotions.

Oh.

That’s not true.

I like some of them a lot.

A LOT.

Happiness.

Love.

Although love has a wicked back-handed sting of pain to it at times that will throttle the breath right out of my body and make me feel like my heart is on fire.

But, um, yeah, love.

It’s so good, it’s so delicious, I want more and more and more.

I usually have to really cultivate it in myself though, how I take care of myself, how I am gentle with myself (not always so good at that, work in progress, you know), how I feed myself, or let myself rest or be kind, like say nice things about myself and acknowledge the work I do.

I mean.

The work.

A lot of that.

Other emotions I like.

Joy.

Excitement.

Affection.

Awe.

Love me some awe.

Hope is a good one too.

Elation.

I like to be elated.

Euphoria.

That one’s super fun.

Wonder.

Ecstasy.

Ooh, yeah, I like that.

I mean.

Those are fantastic emotions, I’m all over those.

But some others.

Meh.

Not so much.

Jealousy.

Anger.

Fear.

Worry.

Sadness.

Oh woe is me, I do not like the sads.

Melancholia, which is just sadness with a fancy name.

Frustration.

Envy.

Lust.

Well, heh, maybe I do like some lust.

It’s well.

Lusty.

Ahem.

Humiliation.

Pity.

Fear.

I do not like the fear thing not a bit, not at all.

Yet.

I have all of those emotions too.

The nice thing is knowing that I am allowed to hold more than one emotion at a time, in fact I can hold many and do at any given minute or moment of the day.

Sadness and love and fear and lust and anxiety today.

As well as happiness and contentment and sorrow and grief.

A great big mixing bowl of feelings.

Hey there, look at that, I’m in psychology, the “science” of soul suffering.

What is it about the soul and the suffering and the journey of it all?

I suspect it’s about love and whether or not I let myself have it, let it in, allow myself to be loved, to accept I’m lovable, enough, that I deserve all the best and most wonderful things and to act in those interests.

Not something I have always been able to do so well.

The neat thing, yes, I said neat, about all this learning to become a therapist is that I get to work on myself, so this Integrative Seminar class should be a good way for me to look back over the last few years and measure, really see, how much I have grown.

The other class.

Well.

The syllabus was not up so I am not worried about having to have read anything for the class.

I have gotten one of the books the professor e-mailed the class about and I’ll bring that with.

I’ve got class from 9a.m. to 4p.m. then I’ll be heading off to my internship at seeing a consultation for therapy and a doing a phone session with a client.

Then.

It’s officially Friday.

Dinner with my best friend and connection, conversation, life, goals, love, shoes and ships and sealing wax, cabbages and kings.

All the things.

It’s a full and busy weekend for me.

I also have to go into the dentist on Saturday and get my permanent crown put in.

I’ll be leaving school a little early on Saturday to get to my dentist appointment by 4p.m.

And I just realized.

Sigh.

That I won’t really have a day off until next Saturday, which isn’t necessarily true either, I’ll have group supervision that day, but it will feel like a day off.

It’s always a long run of days when I’m in a weekend of school.

But this is it.

The last semester to my Masters program.

The final push!

I will be meeting with my advisor tomorrow at lunch to talk about graduation and also to get my letter of recommendation for the PhD program in Transformative Psychology.

That is still definitely on the burner for me.

Whew.

Glad I’ve got my books and folders and notebooks and syllabi all set.

Lunch is packed too.

I just need to figure out what to wear.

First day of school fashion crisis.

I suspect, though, that as long as I show up, it will all be fine.

That’s half the battle, isn’t it?

Just showing up.

Super grateful to be walking into this last semester with a full and thankful heart for the process that has brought me here to where I am today.

I’ve come a long way.

Baby.

I really fucking have.

Found Love Sonnet

August 18, 2017

This knowing, this love, love a binding

Force that restores my heart, an ache

Of time.  Deep, rich, like caramel and salt endings.

Also. Beginnings.  Substance in the wake

Of self-conceived drought.  A manna

From Heaven unexpected in its intensity.

The serenity of desire, the Eros, an honor

To know, a respite, the dreaming vivacity–

A brightness, a land mine painted blue

Electric this lusting becoming something more,

Greater an unexpected bequeathment, raw and true.

Fire in the gulch, timelessness no longer abhors

Me.  Rather, finds me safe, sound, mourning dove restored.

Completed.   Tethered to you and thus secured, a love moored.

Full Moon Fever

November 7, 2014

Is it really the moon being full or is it an excuse to act like a loony?

Does it actually matter?

For instance, having been recently visited by the monthly due I pay for being a woman, I wondered, would I have had as much chemistry happening for me if my body hadn’t been screaming to be impregnated?

And, was it really God’s protection, the rejection?

Would I have gotten carried away?

I mean you don’t have to believe that prayer works, the efficacy is proven and written about and yes, I do, but no you don’t have to, and so it doesn’t really matter that last Saturday when I felt abandoned and went to the loo after ward to catch my breath it was no wonder that there was a small red dot floating in the water.

I believe in hormones, but I also believe in chemistry.

There’s something to be said for pheromones.

Moan.

And sexy seems to be oozing out of my pores at times, as it was so fondly related to me from an outside observer.

“You two are too much tall, dark, and sexy.”

It hit me today.

Whoa.

I mean, ok, it hits me more and more often, but shit, ma, I am sexy.

I know revelation.

What?

“Women would kill to look like you,” a past date said to me once over watermelon radish salad at Maverick’s in the Mission.

I was hoping he would just kiss me again.

I spend too much time wondering if he will just kiss me again.

All the he’s all over the place.

All the moon and the hormones and the chemistry and the pretty faces.

I can have it all.

I was sharing this evening and it really struck me, wait, I do attract god damn attractive people, so I needn’t be shy about asking attractive men out.

I know.

REVELATORY.

Not that I have spent a lot of time to fantasize about any one in particular, but I sacked up, I asked out a really attractive man.

He said yes.

Which means, I know, you are laughing at me, I am attractive to attractive men.

Which means, go for it.

I don’t know if it was the flirting I was doing with one of the vendors at the Bartlett Street Farmer’s Market in the Mission (totally harmless, but fun, I’m not about to date someone who lives in Watsonville.  I mean, where is that anyway?) or it was the late afternoon Americano I had before hitting the market.

Or perhaps that fateful, full, creamy moon rising over me.

It sang me out the door of work tonight and I noticed a lot of heady, giddy, crazy drivers, taxi cabs, bicyclists, happy hour folks being wooed by the great disk in the sky.

Did we all notice it at the same time?

Did it give permission to be sassy and sexy and wound up?

I don’t know.

But that self-same moon followed my home on my bicycle, singing in my blood, urging me on, pulling me forward, down, down, down to the sea.

I wanted someone to go barefoot walking on the beach with that moon bright as neon kisses over my head.

I don’t often want someone to go walking on the beach with me, it seems trite, clichéd, and over done, but tonight, I could almost feel the cool sand on my bare feet.

I could certainly feel the cool air from my bicycle ride in my hair when I got back to the house and pulled it up into a top knot.

I wanted someone’s hands in that coolness, until it wasn’t cool anymore.

And that’s when my little sexy epiphany struck, somewhere between pulling up my hair and folding my clothes (I was super sneaky and got in a load of laundry last night, so nice to squeeze that in early), I could ask out other really attractive, to me, men.

Guys that I might have previously, erroneously, thought, nah, he’s out of my league.

I tried to summon someone to mind and no one sprang fully formed like Athena from Zeus’s brow, but that was ok too.

Just the knowledge was enough.

“You are learning all sorts of things about you.”

That’s what dating is about.

Learning about myself.

As though I haven’t learned enough already, here again, more to learn, more things to sort through and grow around.

Awesome.

I mean annoying.

I mean awesome.

I am learning that I don’t want to date people, men, whom I am not attracted to.

So that dude that I met at Decompression who kissed me with stale Tecate mouth, NOT attracted to.  Don’t give out phone number, even if I said I would try to date and do one a week, there’s no point in going out with someone who leaves me cold.

What else am I learning?

Not to go on super big dates.

Start small.

No big theatrical stuff, start with a cup of coffee.

I sort of already knew this, but I have to stick to my guns.

First date is chill.

Sort of like an interview.

And if the guy interviews well, than second date can be decided upon.

Communication is super important and I have to say what I need.

So.

I am having a whole heap of learning.

Good stuff.

The moon is still full-out there and I am obviously full of myself, but that’s ok, if I don’t get a little full of myself occasionally, who the fuck will?

I might do something wrong, I might go fuck it up some more, but hey, I am living.

The trees in the park, the giant wide trunks, the breadth and circumference of them, the reach of limbs toward the yellow moon of buttery love, they were here before me, they will be here after me.

What care the trees for my foibles?

In the great, grand scheme of it all.

I am just a tiny drop in the bucket of life.

A sexy drop.

But a drop none the less.

 

 


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