Before you arrived
I existed in a world
Of good enough
I never missed anything
I cannot miss things
I never had
And then
You
You brought me to life
Revealed miracles in me
I never imagined
I learned that good enough
Was not good enough
I deserve more
And then
You
You were here with me
And now you’re gone
Not good enough
I cannot miss things
I never had
My God I miss you
I met my friend E a few days after I moved into my college dorm freshman year. You may or may not remember her from this post – how I met their father part 2.
She and I became best friends. Inseparable. It took us about two minutes of conversation to realize that we were somehow magically connected. We didn’t even have to try. It felt like love at first sight, only without the romance and sex. [That’s a half-lie. Again, see how I met their father part 2.]
Maybe this infatuation-like friendship was the reason for my obliviousness to her overly competitive nature. I was naïve for a long time before I realized what was happening.
time crawls along
days last weeks
nights fall colder
without you near me
honey
I miss your smile
the sound of your voice
the touch of your lips
the comfort of your arms
surrounding me
honey
bring back your smile
lie here beside me
whisper in my ear
warm me from inside
and let me warm you
because you miss me too
this I know
honey
hold me close
my head on your shoulder
my breath on your neck
my hand on your chest
feeling your heart
pounding
honey
I adore the way
you remind me
of beauty inside
long forgotten
forever ignored
but hidden no more
you drew it from me
with your magic
honey
you showed me
the best parts of me
and now I want
to share them
with you
honey
Hello my wonderful friends. I hope you’re having a lovely Friday. And I hope you enjoy this week’s fun little adventure. Mildly (?) m-rated.
Only kind of rated m for mature…
The moment I finished writing my letter to the Man Who Threw Me Away, I’ve wanted to write this one. I’m already cheating on my one-post-a-day plan. Oops.
Dear Man of my Dreams,
I never had to invite you into my world. You magically appeared. You never knew I found you first because I was afraid to speak. For weeks, maybe months (it’s all a blur now), I quietly watched you every time you passed by. I felt things. Strange beautiful things. In my heart. In my head. In my blood. But you were a fantasy to me. You couldn’t possibly be real.
I was mesmerized by your kindness, the sound of your voice, the words you spoke, your heart-stopping smile (easily the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen). I never knew you saw things in me. Things I never thought I had. Things no one had found before.
And I never imagined you were mine. And I was yours.
We are the same… and we are different. Exactly as two puzzle pieces must be to fit together. And we fit. Even if one of us falls from the tabletop to the floor, we find our way back together and click into place as was fated since the beginning of days.
Your touch dizzies me. I tremble. I’m overwhelmed. My heart leaps and flutters like a trapped butterfly trying to escape its prison. How do you do that? How do you kiss me with your delicious mouth yet touch me everywhere? How do you take all of me in that one intense, beautiful gesture? Everything. You take it because it’s yours. My mouth, my head, my heart, my fingertips and toes, my tingling skin, my stirring insides, my sticky sweetness. All for you. All yours.
We share a sweet intimate love. And a ravenous intense love. You hold me… you grab me. You kiss me… you devour me. You make beautiful love to me… you fuck me wildly. We want it all and we take it. Because we belong to each other.
I adore when we’re tangled up in each other and you ask me what I want… even though you already know. You want to hear me say the words. You make me blush but I tell you anyway.
I want you. Kiss me. Lay me down and lick me. Drink me in. Oh, yes, like that. And your fingers. Deeper. Harder. Faster. I’ve drenched you. But, baby, stop. No more drinking. Come here. Share it with me. Let me taste your fingers… your mouth. I need more of you. All of you.
Crawl up my body. Kiss my stomach. Gently. Tickle me. Grab my hips. Sink your fingers into my flesh. Suck on my skin. Higher. Yes. Hold me in your hand. Perfect. Squeeze. Lick. Tease. I want more. I’ll beg for more. But please, baby. Kiss me. I love the taste of me on your tongue.
Moan for me when I touch you. When I surround you with my warm grasp. Whisper my name from the deepest place inside you. Tell me what you crave. Kiss my neck and let me feel your breath in my ear. Desperately begging to be inside me. I can’t make you wait. Because I can’t wait.
Just the tip of your perfect heat barely inside me. Bathed in my precious dew. Yes, baby. Inside me. Where only you belong. You and me. Oh, honey. Whisper and mumble and moan my name in pure, perfect ecstasy. Take me with you. My fingers in your hair, my grip on your head… tighter… harder. Until we are weak. And then more anyway.
When you collapse on top of me, hot and breathless, oh honey. The weight of your body on mine. The intoxicating scent of you. The heat of your whispers on my skin. The beautiful way you love me. I melt.
Maybe the best part (oh, every part is the best part) is when you lean back and pull me to you. Hold me and mumble your thoughts, your dreams, your every emotion. And I smile. You can’t see my face but you smile, too, because you still know. And when I whisper my heart and dreams and soul, you squeeze my body closer to yours and kiss my head.
I’ve never felt anything like you. Your touch, your mouth, your body – yes. But I think it’s your mind, your soul, your spirit – who you are – that moves me the most.
I will never know what miraculous spark of fate brought you to me. Or me to you. But it doesn’t matter. We don’t need an explanation. We just need to be.
I am yours. And you are mine. I love that we belong.
love,
Your Girl
I may have mentioned that I have children. [Shut up. I know, I mention them a lot…] Every year, we have a small family birthday party for each of them. For my son, we always have to have a snow date [January birthday]. We’ve had to move his party at least 4 times in his 11 years. My daughter’s birthday is in the fall. Her month-day is exactly the opposite of mine. [Her month is my date, her date is my month. And she is my clone. Eerie.]
For every party, I design everything. It’s not even necessary, but I love doing it. I design and print fancy invitations. I design and create party favors or make lovely little packaging for store-bought trinkets.
And I design and make the cake. Sometimes cupcakes instead. And sometimes cookies, too, for a little something extra.
Once the kids were old enough to tell me what to do, I lost the privilege of choosing their party themes. But they’ve picked some fun ones. And I love dreaming up something special for the cake. [And challenging myself ridiculously, at times. I am not a professional. I’ve never even taken a cake decorating class. I just used to watch Ace of Cakes… but I am no Duff Goldman.]
I’m proud of these creations and wanted to share them with you. I hope you’ll click on the first photo for each little group to flip through the larger versions… and to read my accompanying, sometimes witty, captions. All sorts of fun facts for your reading pleasure.
Totally unrelated fun fact: When I posted weekly perk #1, I had 243 WP followers. Today I have 343. How weird is that? Increased by exactly 100 in 6 weeks.
Stay perky, my friends. But not so much that I want to kick you in the face.
☼
with every breath
he feels it inside
the empty space
where she once lived
she promised to return
make him whole again
he believed her words
she had never lied
but as each day passed
without her sweet smile
he feared he would
begin to forget
what she meant to him
impossible he knew
in his deepest places
and in his search
to mend the broken
he filled himself
with anything but her
and he failed
to heal his soul
with every distraction
he lost her again
and deepened the
tear in his heart
he never wanted
to stop remembering
her whispers and laughs
her kisses and sighs
her touches and tastes
so he laid her picture
beside him and
stared at her
before opening
the box of memories
that once filled
the empty home
where they once lived
As of today, Tuesday, the 8th of March 2016, I have been blogging for 177 days. 25 weeks. Nearly 6 months.
I have published on 130 of these 177 days.
This is my 201st post. I have averaged 34 posts/month. And 8 posts/week.
And I am a giant nerd for counting and calculating all of this.
I have no idea if these numbers are high… or low. Maybe this is average. I don’t know what these numbers mean to anyone… except me.
• • • • •
I think I’m burnt.
I have been writing a lot lately. Maybe too much, if that’s even a thing. My kids are going to forget what I look like without a laptop on my lap. Oh, I am not neglecting them, I promise. But every spare moment, I’m writing for my blog. Or reading blogs. Or thinking of what to write next. It’s taking over my brain.
Over the past few months, my schedule has gone to hell. I stay up too late. I wake up with my kids. Between those two, I average about 4-5 hours of sleep. Unemployed and nowhere to be [a whole separate topic], once I’m alone again, I may sleep for another hour or two, but not often.
My general nutritional intake has gone to hell, too. I’m not eating junk. I’m not eating too much. The problem is… I’m barely eating. Coffee. Maybe an egg… if I’m feeling wild, some cereal. Later, coffee. And possibly more coffee. Then a healthy dinner. And… that’s pretty much it… unless I have more coffee. No way in hell am I eating a proper diet!
• • • • •
I do love to write and I don’t plan to stop. When I am a very old lady all white-haired and frail, lying on my deathbed, my son or daughter or grandchild will be sitting next to me taking dictation. [I realize modern technology does not require this, but I much prefer this picture of my loved ones sitting with me.]
I need to ease up. The ratio of writing time to people time is skewed. I should play more with my kids even if they don’t ask. I should jump all over John and make it impossible for him to resist me… and I should have more sex. I need to stop thinking I have to publish as many posts as possible or my readers will bail. I am crazy. Because… absence and the heart and all that, right?
The other thing is… the majority of what I’ve written since I started blogging has been for the blog. It’s for me, too, of course. But I’ve been focusing on the blog more than any other writing project for a long time. It’s not as though I’m a ‘real’ author neglecting my amazing novel. I might have an amazing novel one day, but right now, I have a few pieces I’ve been mostly neglecting. Are any of them good enough to become my amazing novel? That is the unanswered question, isn’t it?
• • • • •
I am going to try to post less. Maybe five posts a week… one a day, skip the weekends. This may still be crazy but I know me – it won’t be easy for me to cut back. But I need to re-prioritize my free time. I will still post Fiction Friday and the Weekly Perk. [I hope you enjoy those.]
I’ll still be reading your blogs, too. I just need to stop spending as much time as I have been writing for this blog. It’s not a drastic change – maybe no one will even notice I’m posting less. Or maybe you’ll be relieved that I finally shut the hell up for a while.
Liam Sullivan's Ideas and Reflections
Wordpress simulcast of the official A to Z Challenge blog
“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” — Maya Angelou
Photos, art, and a little bit of LIT.
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