Posts Tagged ‘swagger’

Blossom Song

September 19, 2017

The way you look at me.

The way your eyes follow my face.

Leaving me melting on the floor.

A pool of desire, lapping warm at my ankles.

My face sweltering with love, a heat shined

Brighter than the moon in darkest skies.

You.

Are.

Exquisite.

Like plum trees

Blooming out of season.

The petals fresh surprised in autumnal air.

Magic that kisses me senseless.

I am without shame.

My need for you subsumes all doubt

With wild veracity.

And now, as I look out across the expanse of space ahead of me.

I sense you there.

On the horizon.

So near.

Like a taste that just alludes memory.

I sense your sweetness in the cinnamon tea I drink.

Reflected in the freckles on my face,

Planted there like promises of kisses on my cheeks.

Ghost leftovers of love smattering my skin.

There is music.

There too, your hands.

Navigating their way through my hair.

Oh.

Slippery time.

I wait for you to pass.

In colors midnight blue

And longing.

Wearing Elvis Presley shoes.

And.

Swagger.

March along.

Move along.

Take that road home to you.

My baby.

I’m waiting.

Just waiting.

Over there.

Beneath that canopy of

Soft purple pink

Blooming sweet fruit promises.

Ensorcelled.

I am so ready for you.

Sweep me up.

Again.

Baby.

Please, baby, please.

In the crooning cradle.

Of.

Your.

Temptuous.

Love.

Song.

 

What’s Up Sexy?

June 23, 2016

Who the fuck doesn’t want to be greeted like that?

I know I do.

I smiled.

What’s up?

Indeed.

All the things.

Lots of work.

Lots of doing the deal.

Lots of love.

Lots of self-care.

And just a kiss of poetry.

I had a friend reach out to me as I was getting ready to wrap up at work and he offered to hear me practice my poems in between the here and the there.

I said hell yes.

I was quite flattered and very happy to have my silly little request to get some help coalesce.

Ask for what you want, you might get it.

In fact.

In my experience I often times get what I ask for.

It may not come in the package I was expecting, but I generally am heard.

Except when I ask for a boyfriend.

Ha.

Not that I am lacking any sort of attention.

I’m pretty taken care of and that’s a nice thing, and I have options, and time and I’m allowing myself to have fun and be present and show up without expectations.

I still have expectations, but the faster I see them for what they are, the faster I get to let go of them and see what is really going to work for me.

Not obsessing about those who can’t show up for me or who have chosen to withdraw in ways I don’t approve of.

Like anyone needs my approval.

Nope.

Just me and my God, that’s it, and I get to do whatever I want, as long as I accept the consequences of those actions.

Like.

I’ll be up a little late tonight.

I’m jazzed over how the poetry practice went and my friend’s very insightful way of looking at the experience of how I wrote the pieces and I loved getting to speak them out loud to an audience.

Even though it is nerve wracking and I wanted to sound better and realize that no matter how good I sound I will always want to be better.

And that’s ok.

That’s something to shoot for, just being a little bit better.

There will never be perfection.

Well, in the idea that I am perfect in my imperfections.

But.

That there will always be progress.

That’s what I get to strive for and I am grateful for that.

Wildly grateful.

Full of heart and heat and desire to do more, be more, be of service, to surrender, let go, give in.

There is great beauty in that surrender.

And sexiness too, I think, anyway, a kind of beauty in that letting go that when done without thought for how it will be received is a kind of extraordinary thing.

I might have been feeling a little bit of that when I saw my friend just a little bit ago up at the spot.

And.

I also have to say.

I am grateful I was feeling sexy and saucy and sassy.

As I ran into a gentleman I had a brief intense date with back in February who completely ghosted me so bad that it was a touch disgruntling to be played so hot and cold.

I got to do some work around that, oh yes I did.

So.

Completely feeling my swagger, my messy pink hair in braids, my lipgloss freshly applied, my hips swinging as I dance down the block.

Oh.

And hey.

Ha.

What’s up mister walking your dog by the 7-11.

I got a “hey” and “it’s cold” and a quick sliding glance and a scurry by.

Yeah.

Scurry baby.

I ain’t got time for that shit.

You have yourself a nice ass night.

I smiled and wandered up the street, seeing all my friends coming towards the place and happy to walk into the warm glowing room and get greeted by my fellows, my family, my friends.

Fuck me.

I am such a lucky girl.

Really.

The luckiest girl in the world.

I get to do so much.

I get to be so much.

I get to feel so much.

“The good news,” she said, “is that you get to have feelings.”

Pause.

“The bad news,” she continued, “is that you get to have feelings.”

Right now.

I’m in the good parts of that.

I feel fucking fabulous.

The hair is on point.

Summer is starting out as something fun.

I get to go to New Orleans next weekend, I leave a week from tomorrow, for three days.

I get to hang out with people I like and love and care about.

I have friends.

I have a life.

I have a place to live.

Fuck.

I get to live in San Francisco.

That is amazing.

Especially on a nanny salary.

I get to write and dance and blog and be out in the world and seen.

I am seen.

I am known.

I am accountable.

I like these things.

I can isolate too easily and with no regards to the world and what is happening if I don’t take care of the basic things in my life and recovery.

I have to put the horse first.

Sometimes I have to put that so first, always really, I could do or have what I have if i didn’t, that I can’t even see how I will get through a situation.

I just know that I will if I focus on solution.

I focus on problem.

It only gets bigger.

I focus on doing the next action, getting into solution, loving, being of service, why the problem fucking takes care of itself.

And I didn’t do anything.

See.

My best ideas are ass.

I’m not capable of making great decisions for myself.

I have no perspective.

So I get out of my way, out of my blinders, if I can shift my perspective just a tiny amount, man, it’s amazing.

Transformation.

Utter and complete and astounding.

Magic.

Poetry.

Sex.

Sugar.

Love.

Music.

Star shine.

God’s kiss freckling my upturned face.

All the things.

Baby.

All the fucking things.

Amazing.

I can’t explain it, I don’t want to, I don’t need to.

I think that’s called faith.

Or.

Grace.

Shall we just agree to agree?

It’s love.

And it’s everywhere.

Just look.

I promise.

It is here.

It is there.

It is.

Right now.

It is always.

Love.

The new sexy.

 

Boom

February 8, 2015

And like that.

I’m back.

I’m in it.

I’m Okstupid’ing.

I’m Tinder’ing.

I’m wearing heels.

I’m on fuego.

I don’t know who I’m fooling.

I’m hanging out alone in my room blogging.

But I gots some date offers on the table.

Holy moly batman, Tinder is at once wildly unnerving and aggressive, just because I swiped that way does not mean I’m ready to bend over and be all Clan of the Cave Bear.

Jesus people.

Simmer down.

Then a friend explained to me it’s rather like the straight version of Grinder.

It’s an immediacy app and there’s some up front people out there.

I’m not sure I’m made for it.

However, it’s nice ego feeding, I won’t deny that.

What it is though, is distraction.

Distraction from the present, distraction from the hard work of making relationships work, dating, being human, meeting people, interacting.

That’s so much the thing about social media, it’s all-encompassing and it’s all fantasy.

Just because you’re smiling on a beach in Hawaii doesn’t mean you aren’t sad somewhere else in the world.

I don’t know you until we sit down and engage.

So with that in mind I took some of the other suggestions I received yesterday and I actually reached out to someone in my community who I have always thought was attractive and funny and has some interesting things going on in his life.

And what do you know?

We’re going to go out and grab a coffee in the near future.

He was on the list of ten guys I would be interested in going out with.

I have to say, that list took me a hot second to put together.

I had some difficulty arriving at ten.

I did, however, write it out and I was able to reach out to one of the guys, via Facecrack, I’ve known him for years, but never well enough to have exchanged phone numbers.

That has been rectified.

A few texts.

A few jokes.

A plan to grab some java and hang out.

I also made it clear that I was practicing dating and that I was reaching out in that capacity.

Not as a hang out and have a cup of coffee with a friend.

But a date.

Or rather.

An interview.

Let’s see if something’s there.

We have some really strong common ground and he’s got some awesome tattoos, so there’s that.

He’s also my age, which I really like, actually, I think he’s a couple of years older, which is good, I seem to attract and be attracted to guys a bit younger than me, which is cool, but I want someone who has a little more life experience, I realize that quite well now.

I’m not ruling out dating younger guys, but my track record hasn’t been the best with them.

I also crossed another guy off the list tonight when I saw him up in Noe Valley.

He’s attractive, there’s some chemistry, known him for a few years, he’s sweet, but oh, lord, he’s a smoker.

I mean, heavy.

And I had some reservations when I put him on the top ten list.

I knew as soon as we walked out of the Starbux and headed up the hill that I couldn’t, I just couldn’t.

I can’t date someone who is a heavy smoker.

I just can’t.

And I used to smoke, but I haven’t in 9 1/2 years and I don’t intend to start ever again.

It’s just gross.

Hella gross.

Hecka gross.

Gag.

So, off the list with you.

I thought about reaching out to another guy on the list, and I will, but I think for tonight, for today, I did pretty well.

I took a lot of actions.

I re-opened the OkCupid.

And I deleted all the old messages therein and blocked my ex.

Ayup.

His profile immediately popped up in my matches.

Ack.

I did not look.

But I read a message he had sent me and I realized I was about to fall down the rabbit hole.

Nope.

No.

Don’t go there.

I’ve been cleaning house and making room for the new and I don’t need any of that hanging out in my closet.

I have done my inventory and he’s not in the stock room any longer.

And when I did that.

That last bit, I didn’t even know it was there to be done, it felt right.

Clean.

Clear.

Free.

Moving on.

Thank you God for this experience.

I have grown so very much and learned so much more of love and of myself and I stepped it up today.

I dressed up.

I did my make up.

I wasn’t planning on going anywhere spectacular, but you know, San Francisco.

And just because half to three-quarters of the women here are running around in lululemon yoga pants does not mean I have to wear my sneakers out in the world.

I wore my heels and it felt grand.

I dressed for myself.

I also found myself in a store in Noe Valley buying a super over the top vintage wicker purse for myself that I had absolutely not planned on buying.

But it was so fabulous and I was in heels and I felt like I could just stand on the corner and kick back a foot and dangle that purse from my hand and Vogue would be shooting me with Grace Coddington nodding her head in approval in the back ground.

I mean, it’s stupid cute.

The owner and I fawned over each other and as I ran my fingers longingly over it, knowing I really wanted it, I set it back down.

It was more than half of my clothing allowance for the month.

I wandered over to look at something else, and run my hand across a spectacular black cardigan with large paillettes, my mind clicking the numbers in my head, I am getting a tax refund after all.

The owner of the store came out and said, “you know, I just can not have you leave without that purse, I’ll take $40 off it.”

Hello.

Sold.

A purse does not make the girl, but oh la la, it certainly put some swagger in my walk this evening.

I think I’ll be doing a lot of swaggering around town in the next weeks.

I’m back in the mix.

Bring on the dating.

My heels are out of the closet.

And I am fabulously accesorized.


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