Pieces of me have never quite fit.
Some sides are all curved and blend with the sky but somehow, never the ground.
I’m growing, I’m thriving. But there is a part of my being, that blocks out the sun.
Don’t worry about my bright and my merry; when dusk falls, I find my release, in the secrets I keep.
The paths that we choose- hell, the paths that are chosen- we’re not wandering so much as we’re waiting for the rest of life to catch up with us.
We’re not hurting so much as we’re soothing our souls with the truth of connection and touch.
So I’m a breaker of hearts and a mender of minds while I’m bandaging, binding, bleeding red with the men who need just a whisper of appreciation; just a soft voice to stave off the lonely; just a kiss of pure kindness; just the bliss and the twinkling of laughter; just the beautiful collapse of two bodies, spent.
I’m a solid believer in tradition laced with rogue. I’ve got a lifetime of living, precariously balanced, finding my toes clinging to fence posts, teetering between safety and savage and sin. I’ve made all my own choices, have committed in full.
I’m consistent. I’m wavering. I’m playing the fool.
But you’re not all that you believe you are when I’m with you. And you’re far less than you think you can be.
So you are leaning into me- all suckling and slurping at the teat of my spirit- while I die, just a little bit, deep inside every day.
Give me a minute; I’ll trade you a decade.
Pay up tomorrow; we’re all borrowed and hocked to the hilt.
Leverage my loving. It’s yours for the asking. I’ve taken the gold band of time.
Don’t look at me in the haze of the sunset- my shoulders all bronzed by the staggering sweep of your sun as you teach me your version of love.
Don’t see me as anything other than sweet simple defiance.
There’s not a time she recalls knowing she wasn’t this way. Get to know me, she says. Accept me, she says. This way, she says. Please me, she says: just as I currently am.
#for Reticent Mental Property. Image courtesy of the web.