In those dreams

RMPliehere

I soothe a crying woman. She is dark haired, with deep brown eyes and a smile that is presently twisted in heartache. She is now a cutter, maybe she is popping more pills, snorting something,  maybe refilling the flask more than once before noon, maybe sipping a hundred sips between dawn and dusk.

She is fragile in her focus, her tears blur her common sense. Her parents have come for her, to scoop her up, to hold her close and stitch her frazzled mind into common sense, if they can.

I feel connected with her distress. I know this not by verbal accusation, but because the sound of her cries, turn my own heart inside out in time to jagged breaths, gulped between sobs.

I am not running from her.

I am stroking her hair.

It doesn’t end just rolls her over, enveloping her in what will become a coverlet cocoon,  spinning her face into a mirror of nightmares, spun from deep wells of witness to her own games, those spineless charades of adventure.

.

The father, then the mother, stare into me and then through me and grieve over their loss of not one, but both of us.

.

 

.#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web. August 14, 2017.

Invitations

20s13

Hi Friend,

Hanging out at different coffee shops these days…

very early, like 6-9am.

If your morning schedule allows

we can coordinate a Java infused rant

or

sip in silence together,

just you and me

and our spinning little heads.

With love,

Ret

.

She reaches out. They respond.  I don’t see it? I call your bluff.  There has never been question of her patience or her kindness until he was no longer the recipient of her attentions. 

#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.

 

 

Pocket full of Posies

Miller-Nin-photo

Good morning new day. What is the scent of today?

Sit down with me in the creperie, the sweet and savory tucked together and nestled on your plate like lessons in life.

Your grown child holds her baby in her lap. You have said goodbye to your lover.  Your tea is hot, your heart is shivering. Your world is both vibrant and numb.

Sip coffee with me the garden where the living ivy overtakes brick walls, the solid clay softening as the tiny fingers of the vine grasp daily for a taste of the rays.  The courtyard scene is dappled with the sun shining on the grey and the white heads of the ancient ones, these couples, together for what they believe is one lifetime.  These regulars, they steady each other, make habits of rituals in the rising each day, the sipping of coffee, the sharing of the front page, the endless reflection, wisdom, appreciation.

The gentle banter of observation erupts with stories of the way-back-whens in response to the infant, someone’s grandchild, oh yes, mine! mewing her needs without reservation. Those baby sounds- the crying, the giggles, the babbling of toddlers all bring to mind the endless opportunities grasped and missed in the raising of their own.

.

Gentle wind, forgive the intrusion, the decay of my being seeping in, catching, swirling, landing where the lavender fields grow, hiding the whispers of a story which will not be told.

#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.

 

 

Pride

where is her head, he wonders.

where is her loyalty, he wonders.

where is her lover, he wonders (and stands tall)

where is her mind tonight?

is she alright?

is she messing with everyone to the Left and the Right of her fucked. up. life.

She’s been a good girl.. She’s been so strong, She’s got a crazy feeling, she’s been led down.the wrong path. again.

She’s got a sense of pride, she doesn’t want to hide, she’s got a shot to go big.

She’s in the middle of  a dream for a couple of children, those wanna-be-men. sigh.

She’s got a job to do, a duty

to fulfill.

She’s got a semblance of pride. 

#for Reticent Mental Property. images courtesy of the web.

 

Perspective

20s4

Let’s talk, yes?

It’s a spring evening. There are a few days of storms rolling through. We have the humidity in mid-May that defies July’s trend setting style.

Pull in scenes of Gatsby, Gatsby when sitting in the drawing room, sweltering and shiny.

G wants his lover, Daisy, to come clean, to share all, to declare her loyalty and all she can do is fan herself in the heat, eat the ice.

Gatsby though, he presses forward. He declares. He brings a vision from his head and heart into stagnant, silent, stillness.

Tom, he struts and expects more love than he offers, fewer lies than he has told, more kindness than he brings.

The cigarette smoke lingers, circles, swallows the words as they hang naked and bared.

.

There are times when she needs a fast car, a long road, a gorgeous destination and a good fuck.

#for Reticent Mental Property. images courtesy of the web.

 

Flip

I’ve lived the traditional road. Married young, faithful, accommodating, not free.

I’ve left a burned path behind me. Lived large for 30, then unfaithful for three.

I’ve apologized for my transgressions. Left the life, never regretting setting myself, free.

But then I took notice of the silence.

Took care about the falling from grace.

I stood strong on principle and fashioned arguments that would not fail.

I lived big and high and mighty.

I lived less, and low and lusty.

It was a way of life for the ones who were romantic; an escapade emulated by few.

I’m a woman with a want and a passion. I desire to make myself into two. One of me will meet all your measures. The other will be everything to anyone.but.You.

.

She’s a girl in a woman’s position. She will learn. She will grow. She will die. 

.

#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.

 

 

 

Can’t settle in

pinterest6

Let’s not confuse settling down with settling in. One is an end, the other a beginning. There’s an implied discomfort with settling down, at least for me there is, an implied restricted constriction of blood that flows to the important parts. A little PTSD, trauma induced by expectations labeled security, marriage and tradition.

Let’s look at settling in.

It’s that shimmy of the hips when you are in bed with someone who spoons with you…the movement that can mean a comfort arranging snuggle position or an invitation to full on, full-bloomed love making frenzy…a snuggle that lead to the latter if you are settled in.

It’s that time when you leave the door open, relieve yourself, wipe and wash hands and don’t close the door. That’s settled in. NO. IT’s NOT. Don’t fool yourself.

Settling in is when you move in syncopated harmony in a two-ass kitchen. You know, the tiny kitchen that you have in your first place where there is really  not room for two chefs but it is so romantic to cook together, to cut the onions because they make her cry or simply because you have to have them cut  in a certain way and you know she’ll just butcher them and then your mouth will have to feel small onions and big onions and it will mess with your tastebuds and your whole fucking experience of shared kitchen tasks.

Oh, that settling in…it’s when you make a plan for an 9am yoga practice followed by coffee and you find yourself awake at 6am and fully aware that you have to either roll over and wake him up from a soft, flaccid, non-wet dream moment and make him grow in your mouth and create a major bed-shaking all out crazy morning of love-making where the sheets slide off the end of the bed, the pillows get jammed between the mattress and the headboard and when your alarm goes off at 8 you hit the dismiss so fast that the yoga instructor knows you are not showing up today because you are getting your downward dog on and do.not.need.an.instructor.

That’s settling in.

She figured that settling down was overrated, oddly, she still found herself aiming for it. WTH?

.

#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.