Couch Riding

On the couch
in my lap
facing me kissing me
smoke rings of green in between our expressions
lose the shirt, rising skirt
you press down
as I push up to
dock in you

She Went Out To Get Some Air

"In the Morning" (a continuation)

I look at him from across the kitchen table. He's completely engrossed in his book, nearly halfway completed. An accomplishment really because he had started it last night right before I went to bed.

"Good book?" He at first does not respond, a crust of toast dangling from his fingers his mind obviously elsewhere. I stare at him expectantly knowing that at some point he'll realize I've said anything.

"Sorry what?"

"Book. Good?"

"Mmhmm." He hadn't looked up at all as his eyes continued to read. A smile comes across my face. It must be good. He only gets this way when a book is interesting and his writing is going well. His concentrated brown eyes, his solemn expression. I know then that the remainder of his breakfast will not be eaten.

I know this man well. My best friend. My lover. My man. My head has laid in the crook of his neck thousands of time. Legs trembled at the anticipation of his touch almost every night for years. I have run to him again and again knowing whatever was wrong would be made right. I look at him and realize that I still am as in love with him as I was when we started this journey. More actually. The years of marriage hadn't dampened the spark. We were still ripping off one another's clothes. Still talking all night. Still laughing. Oh yes there were fights. There were hard times. There were worries. But we managed through them all. Our love always carried us through, even when thoughts of homicide flashed ever so briefly in our minds.

I get up and clear our dishes from the table taking his egg clinging dish away from him. He again doesn't look up but as I turn he briefly squeezes my ass. My blood turns hot. I set the dishes in the sink and see that he is grinning. I walk to his chair and slide it from the table. He continues to read like nothing is happening. Still smiling though. I take his book and lay it on the table.

"Baby. I was reading that"

"You're done." I sink into his lap straddling him. We goofily grin at one another as we embrace.

In The Morning

Every morning I remind myself: "need to get curtains." Bright sunshine is a fine way to wake up, but not at five in the morning. When your this high up even dawn can sting your eyes
           
"Need to get curtains," I think as my eyes adjust to the morning. The room coming into focus, the walls tinted a bloody orange by daybreak shining through the bedroom window. She is still curled up in the covers. Most of her is hidden, swimming in our marshmallow comforter. The only sign of life being her auburn hair splayed over the pillows and her leg outstretched and jutting off the side of the bed. From the hip to the hamstring, thigh to the toe, there is no doubt about it, that's a ladies leg. Toned muscles from a love of dance and tiny ballerina  feet, it's just a leg. but its the sexiest thing in the world to me.
The orange tint of morning dims as a group of clouds floats past the window sending playful shadows to dance across her hair and sheets and onto that leg.
Yeah, I could get curtains. But then I'd miss this everyday.

Swimming in Heaven

Pictures from our

Honeymoon.

Some people don't even know what they're missing.

Pictures From A Floating House

Taken from the Attic; 6:22pm

Warrior

My man is a warrior. A survivor. A lion of people. He is perhaps stronger still because he doubts himself. Always looking inwards trying to improve. Tinkering with his morality and his love for people and himself. I think he doesn't know his own strength. Doesn't know his ability to get through, to be the best person he can be. To find happiness. Sometimes his vision is clouded and I try to be the mirror. Show him what he really is. Show him that he is a warrior.

Because I know his strength. I know that he can do anything. I know that his heart is made of something not of this world. Something that keeps him from quitting, keeps him from letting the fire of hope die even when the flame is so weak the slightest breeze could blow it out. He's made of better things. Made for good in every way because he would not settle for less. I know this about him. I know he's the strongest fighter because I've seen him do it many times. His silence speaks volumes, even of pain. But he will get through. Clouds be damned.

Cheesy Movie Moments *part 1*

You know when in shows or movies something scary or bad happens and the main girl and her man (or maybe a potential "her man") instinctively hold each other? She reaches for him and he presses her to his chest? It always seems silly and slightly over dramatic because really who does that in impending danger? Isn't it get the fuck out time?

But I was watching that overused gesture today and all I could think was G-d I wish Chris was here. I wanted to transport myself into his arms. I was thinking that it's probably because I look to him for strength and love. Unadulterated acceptance. Being held so close to protect me from the world. Maybe even myself. It makes things just a little bit better.

In our little movie we're the main lovers. Star crossed? Nah. Suddenly realizing we're in love? Past that point (it's been five years). No we're just the lovers. Still so in love that when I see happy couples in the movies or TV I miss him. I want him to be next to me. To wrap me up in his arms and love me. To keep me safe.

Woof

It should be your fingers scratching my head

Pictures from a Floating House

From outside the bedroom window: 11:37 am

Secret

A crowded red line train after a baseball game. Night has painted the windows a cool purple background as brick buildings and street lights come and go without end. You and I in the middle, surrounded by our friends and strangers warming us with their body heat.

So many people, so much chit-chat; but really, it is just your eyes, your hands. Our fingers dance together by our sides, playful and secret. One of my fingers stretching out to graze against yours. Resting my nose in your hair and inhaling your smell anytime the train shakes.

And when our friends glance over from their musings and see us, they'll raise a questioning eyebrow.

But we'll say no, we're just friends, it's nothing.

All these people,

all this noise,

eventually we will tell them.

but for now lets keep it like this.

Just keep it us.

Chicago

That beautifully gray, windy town. It probably has the most unpredictable weather in the midwest. I love Chicago. Like almost inappropriately. I've never wanted to be away from it. Any time I've had the opportunity to leave it, even for a few months, I've never taken it. It's like Chicago is a huge couch and I'm its' happy happy potato. I never thought anything could come between us.

Then he moved away. The other man, so to speak. The one that got between me and my city. The streets were no longer as friendly. I couldn't wrap my mind around what was the problem. I still loved the city, don't get me wrong, but it didn't feel the same. It's like the heart (and maybe my heart) were gone. It didn't feel completely like home anymore. When he's not here it's not my couch. It's not my one true love. He is.

The Things I Miss

The Things I Miss

Chapter 2:

His smell.

Smell is one of the senses that triggers your memories and feelings. It's instinctual. It brings you back to a moment in time. I once freaked out when I smelled a the burnt oil and twisted metal and plastic of a car crash. My brain sent me back to a squirming me realizing I couldn't move my legs in a the smashed remains of my Chevy Malibu. My tears ran hot, my heart pounded and I was terrified all over again.

Smell is a powerful thing.

His smell is the most powerful thing. A combination of his deodorant, clothes detergent and sweet skin it brings me back to life. Every time I'm in his arms with my face buried in his chest my heart is at peace. He left his shirt at my apartment once and I didn't mail it back. Smelling it brought me to his arms. Made me happy. Flooded me with absolute love. Love.

His smell equals love. I've never had anything that makes me more happy or at peace.

I can't wait until I'm wrapped up in that love again. I can't wait until every time I wake up that smell is next to me bringing me back to earth knowing that no matter what happens today, it will be alright. He is there.

Taming of the Bull: A Poem

Blinding rage
Seeing red
dizzy thoughts and confused logic
punching walls, ignoring calls
throwing phones and books
not a body to touch or speak or hold
no placement for my foot to hold
blinding rage
seeing red
blood and bullets
wish for dead
out of my body looking in
trying hard to find a friend
going crazy
not going, gone
lost to reason's calming song
suddenly a face, a voice
so familiar
red is fading
becoming clearer
no longer blind
and so I see
the one who's calling out to me
calms me down
makes me sane
So I can try
to live again

First Time

The first time I knew there was something beautiful and organic between us I hit a car. Well actually, I hit the car before. I was a seventeen year old library slave. After shelving away books for minimum wage all night I got into my bland, red, Chevy Malibu ready to drive downtown to go to a party at a friend's house. I was excited. Not because I was seeing Ally (the girl who was throwing the shindig) but because my other nerd friends were going to be there. People who had finally made me feel that I belonged anywhere in the hell called high school. I called Ally to see who was there and what route I should take. I was backing up my car, chattering stupidly when a loud metallic crunch rang in my ears. "SHIT!" I screamed and quickly hung up the phone. My heart was beating fast and easy tears already sprang into my eyes.

Oh my G-d oh my G-d oh my G-d. I got out and surveyed the damage I caused. My bland red car had made a bland red dent in the door of a white car. Terrified I looked around the parking lot. No one. The cameras weren't pointing at me I think. What should I do? I know what the right thing to do is. Leave a note with car that has my name and number so I can pay for the damage.

BUT. How could I admit this? My mother would kill me. My brother had totaled two cars at this point and had knocked him and my mother off of our car insurance. My mother had threatened the car insurance (she's a perfect driver) but I had been warned that I couldn't make a mistake or we would suffer my brother's fate. Fighting between my morals and my fear I got back into my car and drove away. In my haste I drove through a red light creating an accidental crime spree that my guilt ridden heart couldn't handle.

What the fuck am I doing? I'm a bad person. Oh my G-d. This is awful. The cameras saw me. I won't get away with this. I"m so so so dumb.

I freak out all the way down the expressway. All the way down State St. I park and sit in my car.

I should call someone to walk me to Ally's house.

I don't want to see anyone.

I shouldn't walk by myself though. It's not a nice neighborhood.

"Hey Ally. I'm here. Someone should come get me. I'm on State by 9th.... Well who's there? Send Chris."

I don't know why, but once she said his name I didn't want anyone else to come. I waited in my car for him to come. I saw him turn the corner and I got out. We exchanged pleasantries and started walking towards Ally's house.

"What's wrong?" His big brown eyes were staring into my soul. Letting me know that no matter what everything would be fine. Guilty words fall out of my mouth. Hot tears stain my face and I tell him everything. How awful I am, how stupid I am. He just pulls me close to his chest. He holds me while I shake and cry and tells me everything is going to be OK. In his arms I know it's true. I know I'm not a terrible person. Maybe a little stupid.

My heart beats slower and everything in the world is right. We pull away and I look at him. I trust him with all my heart. I don't know why. I just did. I knew then that there was something here. I didn't know as what yet but this boy (at the time) was supposed to be in my life. We walked back Ally's house and in my heart I knew he just became one of my best friends.

Seven years later I still don't want anyone else to come. I only want him. Forever.

How does she do that?

She's never given me a reason to distrust her ever. I'm amazed by that. I'm in awe of it. How someone can be so honest, and pure, and true to their love is something you don't see alot, or ever. What's amazing is she makes it look like it's no thing, as if everyone just walks around being committed and honest all the time. As if it's no big deal that her love literally knows no bounds, I think they call that G-d's love. I didn't think it was possible for someone to love like that...let alone love me like that. I didn't think it was possible to trust everyword that comes out of a persons mouth, I didn't think it was possible to find all of that, and then send it back to them one hundred fold, not because I HAVE to, but because I NEED to. I didn't think any of this was possible.

I love it when I'm wrong.

Wake Up.

I hate waking up usually. The whole process irritates me, sleep is so hard to come by. Between work and the things I'd really like to be doing, things that don't allow for such silly things as free-time or rest. I usually spend my nights chasing it like I was running after a rainbow, forever in my sights but never within reach. It's maddening.
So on those lucky occasions that I do find a pot of gold and drift off to sleep, waking up in the morning, no matter how many hours I've slept, always feels like a swift kick in the nuts. My eyes aching from the bright sunlight, my back sore from the mattress. Good dreams disappear too quick and bad dreams linger too long. Waking up always sucks. Like finding a unicorn that lets you ride it, but when you get off it stabs you.
I've spent years waking up disappointed that I'm not still sleeping. Every roommate I've ever had tells me I'm scary in the morning. I'd even started to wear it like a badge of honor.

And then one night, the best night of my life. I found sleep easier than I ever have before. A soft rocking at the foot of the bed as a pair of tiny feet rubbed themselves together, brought me gently to sleeps door. A warmth on my neck I'd never felt before, that instead of making me hot, calmed my uneasy nerves.
And in the morning, when I opened my eyes after a peaceful dreamless sleep, instead of bright sunlight burning my iris, I saw the softest brown eyes I've ever seen, deep and kind. And suddenly for the first time I'm not upset that I'm awake. I'm not upset at all.
I'm Blessed.

The Things I Miss

The things I miss.

Chapter 1

His laugh. He doesn't laugh at everything. He lets bad jokes fly without a whisper of a smirk. Oh he might smile at you genially trying to make you feel good, but you know it's only for your benefit. I love it because it represents him as a person. Straight up, no lies, no bullshit. A good man who will tell you what he honestly thinks to make you a better person. You know you're funny if you get him going. Get him to smile widely, convulse his body, crinkle his eyes. It's joyful. It's honest. It's him.