Telling me what I want to hear

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I want to know where you go because you want to tell me that story and want to share inspiration.  I want to be the person you confess to with confidence in my care of your mess.

I want to know whom you met today because I want to be able to give you the nuggets of conversations from my  day,  from my aha moments and observations- many made about you being amazing and this person was well, merely likeable.

I want to know why you went where you did because I let myself go where I go and you should know what led me down that curious path and whether I’d walk it again- and whether I’d walk alone or bring you with me, to hold my hand, to stand in another spot on the map of reference I carry in my head.

I don’t test you to see if you are where you say you are.  I don’t make you share your day. I don’t check up on you. I want to give you privacy because I believe we all need a life of our own. But when you are ready to share, know I will have already shared mine, blurted out my little existence in snippets, given you my moments because I want to pull you into my life without reservation or censorship of how naive and limited I am from a stifled coming of age.

You live a big life. I live a big life.  And together why not meld these lives and build a third shared experience that inspires blinding passion from putting them together?

There’s comfort in the exchange of a day,  and while I’m running my fingers around yours, and up and down the lean lines of your forearm,  over the bend of your elbow where that divet holds a sensual space just under your bicep where I press and pause and press  and pause, while I lie next to you, my thigh draped over yours, chin nestled in the curve of your shoulder. I’m tracing the tatt on your tricep, ink which will someday be a sleeve with the story of your life, and the colors of our life.

I believe in this telling-time,  this pouring out of innocent awe, this is where we find our adventures complement and combine. We surprise ourselves again and again. We put images and memories in our heads to create the stamina for stories that we will want to hear for another 50 years, well into those longer days when we are on the front porch, rocking in our chairs, talking, re-telling, laughing, still holding hands.

.

Give me your life- not in the golden band on the right left hand this time- but your mind’s life, the one that spins up there in that creative space where you reveal your naked self to my soul and I cradle your words and dreams with trust and fearless belief in your integrity and we honor each other in the safe keeping of hearts. 

#for rEticent mental property. Images courtesy of the web. September 24, 2017, the day the NFL stood up to #45 and locked arms in solidarity to support those who chose to stand Or take a knee without worry of repercussion.

 

 

 

 

4 thoughts on “Telling me what I want to hear

    • Circular writing. Unclear links. Too much switching between past and present….etc. so forth. and so on.
      That being said- I picked up a couple of Faulkners. We’ll see what shakes out. Thanks for commenting…appreciate it.

      Like

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