Posts Tagged ‘wish’

Tattoos and Tears

August 27, 2018

I just want to write you poetry tonight.

I just want to talk to crows and croon love songs to the full moon.

I keep thinking about adding to my Coup de Foudre tattoo.

Hearts and lightning bolts.

More hearts.

An explosion of hearts.

I think about you.

I cry.

Sometimes I yell at you in the car.

“Don’t give up on me, don’t stop chasing me, this is it, this is the push, don’t stop.”

I want you to come for me.

I want to be the one.

I think about not having you for years.

I still dream about being with you for all my years.

I think about my impending PhD.

I ponder the thinking and reading and writing I will have to do.

And maybe you won’t be a distraction.

And maybe you will.

And maybe you will be the carrot I use to get through the program.

He’ll come back to me when I am a doctor.

He’ll come for me.

As though you’re the reward for doing the work.

I want to grow old with you and be stupid and silly and mad.

I want to have dumb arguments with you and then have make up sex.

God.

I haven’t really thought too much about the sex.

I think I am afraid to.

I will get lost in the glory of the memories and beat my heart harder on the wall around you.

I long for you.

I dream about you.

The moon full in the sky beckons me to you.

I think about you walking outside.

I think about you sleeping.

I wish to be wrapped up in your arms.

I long to not be heartbroken.

Heart broke open.

Heart in the mouth of crow flying across the miles to you.

That’s the tattoo I keep thinking about.

A crow on my back flying with a heart in its mouth.

An anatomical heart.

With wild daisies growing out from it.

I feel hollowed out.

I miss you baby.

I miss you much.

This isn’t even a poem.

This isn’t even a blog.

This is just a list, a litany, a compilations of thoughts about you.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I can’t go on without you.

And yet I keep going on.

I have changed and I can’t tell where it is leading me.

I just fervently hope.

Pray.

Wish.

That it leads me back to you.

I just want to be your Buttercup.

I just want to be your baby.

Baby.

I just want to be yours.

Always.

Forever.

Your.

Baby Girl.

These Dreams Of You

January 17, 2018

Flash through my body.

Flush my skin.

Swarm me in sunshine and ghostly kisses.

Daydreams swaddled in cotton candy colored love.

Wildflowers and butterflies.

Clouds that bound bucolic over the blue sky.

High above me, my heart soaring out like pigeons flocking towards pinnacle roofs and crosshatching stovepipes.

I sat and watched the sky today.

Thoughts of you breathless in my chest.

Words to songs tucked into my ears.

I felt as though I was in a movie montage.

A silent soundtrack that no one heard but I.

Although I suspect that you heard the melody as well, despite the miles between us.

Always this connection.

Electric and poignant.

Soul bound and heart-rending.

Soft poesie in the corners of my mouth, which would curl up like a swallow swooping through twilight.

He gives me love, love, love, love.

Crazy love.

God the need for you.

The need that swallows me, wraps me up, carries me away without my control or consent.

Powerless.

Vulnerable.

Swept away.

I watched the sky a lot today, I think that has been spoken too already, but the clouds and the palm fronds and the trees leaves cutting into those gauzy masses had me softened and bending and wistful.

Wistful that still haunts me and lingers.

A burnished ache in my breast.

As though I have a blazon there, a lighthouse beam of love.

I think to myself.

All the thoughts of you, innumerable, a veritable encyclopedia of thoughts on you.

A reference book writ on my heart.

I long just to hold you tight.

So baby, I can just feel you.

Yes.

Dearest.

I am listening to Van Morrison.

Wishing I was dancing with you to the music and not longing for you while I listen to it.

Thoughts of you whilst you lay, way over there, lay, oh, so far away.

How I miss you.

How I love you.

Let me not count the ways.

I would curry no sleep, only the counting, which is infinite, endless, and full of untold depth and mystery.

Like your eyes.

I just want to come home.

Come home.

And see your eyes.

Your eyes.

Looking at me.

That way.

You know the one.

Yes.

Like that.

Just.

Like.

That.

And the hope is.

The wish is.

The desire is.

Fervent and deep.

That you’ll come running to me.

Hey, come running to me.

Oh baby.

Please.

Won’t you?

Please.

Come.

Running to me.

 

I Gave Myself Permission

August 14, 2015

I let myself get into the hot tub and join the party tonight after class.

It was intense.

As I joked with someone just a moment ago via e-mail, the intensive, is well.

Ah.

Intense.

I didn’t stay long.

I knew I wanted to do this, this constant showing up lets me show up elsewhere and I find the strength to continue writing helps me find a grace and peace that I can carry with me while I do the school work.

Truth be told.

I am almost caught up on the reading.

I have more to read, there is that, but I have been carving out little pockets of time during the day.

A half hour before breakfast, fifteen minutes here, fifteen minutes there, a ten minute flip through and skim of an article.

I also have recognized the burying my head in a book is a way of checking out from a social situation that is sometimes challenging for me to navigate.

I mean.

Jesus.

I am at school with 31 other people who I will travel the next three years with and we all want to be therapists.

That’s something.

And being as emotionally available as I have been in some of my classes and showing up for my classmates and trying to carry love and compassion through it all with me, gentleness for myself and for the group.

Sometimes.

I succeed.

Sometimes.

I do not.

However, I keep showing up to class and meals and trying to meet my fellows where they are and also myself.

I was happy coming out of class tonight.

It was extraordinarily challenging and I felt such evocative emotions come up that I just wanted to pat myself on the fucking back for doing the deal and being there in the chair and creating a space, a frame, a working notion of what is happening for me.

A language of the heart.

I suppose is one way of looking at it.

I mean.

I’m getting a Masters in Psychology and I am going to be exploring feelings and emotions and all the feelings and emotions that it elicits from me as well as learning about how to be there and present in a safe way for others too.

I don’t, also, expect that I will get this overnight.

I mean, it’s what day 4.5.

I’m half way through.

The retreat, not the course work.

I’ve only just begun.

There is so much more to discover.

I just felt really content with myself and appreciative that I could let go a little, get in the hot tub a little, sigh a big sigh of relief and let the hot water burble about me.

Someone draped the lights over the communal tub, it’s a big guy, there might have been 15 of us in it and more room was available, and suddenly the stars bloomed and I could see Cassiopea and the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper and the Milky Way.

I had left my dorm room last night after my bed time on a brief excursion up the hill to see if I could catch any of the meteor shower.

The Perseid’s meteor shower, which supposedly peaked last night or actually in the very early hours of yesterday morning.

I did not catch any falling stars, the mists came in and there was cloud cover last night.

But.

Tonight.

Oh.

I got one.

I wished for love.

It just came right out of my heart and I sighed loudly, “Oh!” when the star streaked across the horizon.

No one else in the tub saw it and of course, it happened when I had stopped looking for it.

Which is always so much the case for me.

Stop looking, be still, show up to the page and love will be there.

Speaking of love.

I got an e-mail about departure dates to Burning Man and my heart is a little tender about having to be pragmatic, I am obligated to work through the 28th in Glenn Ellen for my family and I don’t want to.

I want to take extra time off and go to Burning Man.

I feel so much internal conflict.

I know I have to sit with it right now, this discomfort and the not knowing.

I can barely see outside of tomorrow’s first class and what that will look like.

And the truth is.

I don’t know what it will look like, I have to share my story at group level and not that I haven’t done that, I have done it so many times that I have lost count, but it is a different focus and a different set of people and I want many things to come across and some not so much and my head gets lost.

So.

I think.

Pause.

Reflect on what I can and can’t do.

But no decision tonight.

I had at least the wherewithal to look at myself having an emotional response to the when can you leave for Burning Man question.

RIGHT NOW!

LETS GO!

FRIENDS ARE ALREADY THERE!

Oh.

Shit.

Wait.

I am still in school and I also have to work and I used my week’s vacation to do this retreat and I’m using the rest of my sick leave to do Burning Man and I can’t ask off for extra days.

Or.

Can I?

I really want to.

I can feel that intense desire to go as soon as possible to not be present with my job, to get out of fucking dodge.

I want it so bad.

I want.

I want.

I want.

Ah desire.

Shush.

Breathe.

Let it go.

Nothing need be decided tonight.

And what if I asked to get out of work two days early?

My employers could dock my pay.

What would it look like to ask?

They could dock my pay and pay somebody else.

They could say no.

They could say yes.

They have a nanny service in Sonoma they use on the weekend when I am not there.

Can I allow myself that vulnerability to ask for what I want?

I mean it might even be a good exercise for me to ask just to see what happens.

Maybe.

All I know right now is that I am conflicted and don’t know what to do.

So pause and wait.

Sleep on it.

Love.

Love is what I wished for and I want to love myself enough to honor everything that is happening with me and to come to a place where I can express that and be for myself no matter what.

Because just in this space, just with this writing I can see that I am afraid of asking because I am afraid of judgement from my employers and that the answer will be no.

And so what if it is?

What would happen?

How to make a decision that is fair and just and right.

For me.

Not for the job.

Not for the people I am camping with.

Just for me.

More will be revealed.

But for now.

I wished upon a star.

And I suspect.

I will get my heart’s desire.

I usually do.

Although it never looks like how I think it’s going to look.

That’s ok too.

I’m open to the possibilities.

It’s a vast universe.

This love.

I suspect there is more of it for me to experience.

Good night my darlings.

I will see you tomorrow.

Sweet dreams.

Be they dusty or otherwise.


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