Lick the desire off of my lips

I demanded he lick the residing sugar off of my lips.

His tongue was as cold as ice, he took his time to navigate around my mouth.

He liked this.

He was trying to wind me up, but little did he know, I was the one who ruled this game.

I could taste the bourbon on him.

My speciality drink, a sugar rimmed lemon drop, was once again empty.

Too much sugar I thought, it was getting to my head.

He pointed at the empty glass. I knew what he was asking.

I knew I’d had enough, but I nodded my head and asked him to pour me another round.

“But my usual this time.” I nagged at him.

I knew this feeling wouldn’t last.

My intoxication would fade.

My liver would break down the alcohol and my heart would come up with another reason why this too wouldn’t work out.

And so I thought,

what damage could one more drink do?

I’d mourn it all too late anyways.

It’s helpless really.

I had made out the entire relationship in my head. Beginning to end.

How he’d arouse me, but not the way I would want him to. He’d touch me and I would have to reassure him he was exactly what I wanted. He’d hold my hand in public to show me off, as I’d be daydreaming alone in my head. I’d grow lonely, asking for more adventure and excitement, to which he’d say, ‘you can’t change me’. And I’d agree, though feeling defeated.

I’d eventually yell, which would scare him, and I’d feel unsure how to fix it.

That is when my eyes will wonder.

And in the end, he will tell me, he met someone else. Then we would both move on.

“Where are you?”, he mentioned softly while handing me my quadrillionth gin and tonic.

My arms were heavy as my fingers reached and clasped around the sweating glass.

He’d added fresh ice cubes.

The good ones.

I held on tightly as if scared this perfection would slip through my fingers.

‘Would this one be different?’ I visibly shook my head.

To no surprise, he looked confused.

A look, telling me he was waiting for me to hail back to his couch, which I had been slouching on for the last 2 hours curling my toes under his thighs.

Or perhaps just waiting for me to shower him with affection again.

“I’m sitting right next to you.” I said flirtatiously smiling.

My heart was crying.

It knew I’d finish my drink but my feelings would be left on the table unattended to.

Too scared to stay.

Too proud to ask for love.

Because I knew, I’d better off alone.

Finders, Keepers

Grief. What a word.

It is so extremely guarded. The word itself can evoke a feeling in your bones. You picture unresolvable sadness.

It’s a guarded word only meant to be used in an instance of utter traumatic sadness.

The grief that I am feeling at the moment is not that kind of traumatic sadness.

It’s a grief of loosing people.

But without any deaths.

This idea that I have to let go of the love and adoration I have for these loved ones, is completely foreign to me. I can’t seem to justify letting go of something that used to mean the entire world to me. My breathe and heart beat would revolve around their happiness.

I have always been an extreme lover. A love that is undeniably deep and soulful. I give everything and I am happy to.

But I have noticed that this ‘feeling’ or better yet residue of that feeling is still stuck on me. It’s gooey and messy and leaves mud tracks along the way. And after these loves have ended, I perhaps didn’t know where to put all of this sudden intense pain and sadness of loss.

I have held onto it like a hoarder.

Instead of things, I hoard emotions.

Peoples emotions.

The way they made me feel. How I imagine I made them feel. How our energy blended together. How they have a piece of me, and I have a piece of them. They have shaped me and made who I am. I let it give me scares and wounds that have been there for years now, that I have forgotten what it feels like to walk around without a type of emotional handicap.

In fact, I have been adding onto this. So deeply scared to let go.

Let go.

Let go.

Let go.

She whispers.

And all I seem to do, is hold on tighter, with all my might.

Not to say that I don’t allow myself to be sad about a breakup or the end of a relationship. I do.

I allow the pain to be there.

Mostly.

But, I think what I am feeling now is a sudden realization that the pain jar is at capacity of what I am able to feel. I have put so much of my love into these people without finding the one, that will relieve that pain jar.

I have held onto my pain as a way to keep me warm at night, in a sense to at least prove to myself that I’ve tried. Even if I’ve failed...

But all I am looking for is someone to meet me there. Meet my fears, and tell me it’s going to be ok. Appreciates my quirky nature, who will let me express my inner child once in a while. And someone who wants to hold onto my smell, digs their nose into my hair and skin and lays their head on my chest, while giving me little pecks of joy.

Perhaps I am just not capable of that much love.

I push it away before I am able to let go of the control I have taught myself to keep my heart safe.

I must somehow be nested into all those lives I have touched, scars that I’ve left on them, and hopefully they are a step closer to know how to let someone love them.

I was just not the one to give it to them…forever.

Just the one to shake them awake and make them realize that they are worth while.

Over this year I have been saying bye in an emotional way to a lot of old patterns I have.

Said goodbye to a lot of lovers I’ve held onto, and I have felt empowered by a lot of old pain that I have let rise to the surface.

I have confronted these deep discolored scars.

Nurtured them.

Let them exist.

Given them a lot of attention, because they deserve to heel too.

Because I deserve to heel.

To figure out who I am again.

I need to figure out who I am again.

I had been struggling with figuring out who I was or better yet who I was becoming. In a way though, I feel like I had been clouded by all this wonderfully engulfing love and excruciatingly shameful hurt. I let it drip into aspects of myself. But I am still working on deciphering if those fears and scars are mine or if they are theirs.

I often wonder if I walked into someone else’s love story, and they were lucky enough that I walked away with all of their gory bits and they parted ways with my good parts?

The answer to that seems silly to run after. You can’t ask for pieces of love back.

Finders, keepers, right?

Brain meet Heart - Heart meet Brain

It’s storming outside. It’s loud, it’s clear, it’s raining and windy and everything is rattling.

The sky is releasing all of it's raindrops.

And I? I can’t sleep. I have gotten up from bed because for some reason I couldn’t make my brain stop talking to itself.

| It’s these arguments that we have with ourselves that drive us crazy.

Geez shut up. At this point, I’m not sure anymore why I can’t sleep.

I don’t know if it’s the stormy weather, or my mind racing at top speed with no intention of stepping on the breaks.

Let me try and give her a voice, decipher what it is she is trying to figure out.

What could she possibly be trying to tell me?

I’m shaking, I’m shaking on the inside, it's low vibration shake. It's mild but it’s still there.

I’m aching for comfort.

Some closeness. Someone to hold me tight. Really tight.

Hug me right in this moment. Someone, please, keep me safe, even though I know that I could keep myself safe. More important that I know that I don’t need anyone else but myself. But I want someone. I’m yarning for it. I have this deep desire to be held. Hugged. I want to be the small spoon. Comfort me at night, as a break to my big spoon life.

And as much as I hear, oh make 'yourself' happy.

Be your own love life.

Do the work.

Take yourself out.

Go show up for yourself.

Go on that solo vacation…

I just don’t know when I have fulfilled those expectations.

I do the work. I am trying to love myself. I have the courage to go on these vacations across the world by myself, I have gone out alone and met people, but when is enough? Aren't we in a constant work in progress anyways? It feels like I'm working towards this unachievable goal of finally waking up one day and feel and say to myself: "oh I have finally done the solo vacation. I have loved myself, I do all the work... and now I finally worthy of finding love."

What kind of bullshit is that? It's like we kid ourselves in these excuses to explain why we can't or rather aren't finding love. Perhaps because it hurts too much to admit that we are truly feeling unbelievably heart achingly lonely. And that we just want someone to hold us during the night and make us feel worth while.

But we can't do that, because we are taught to be tough and that we can't show THAT level of...weakness?

So I ask myself... No fear. No restraints. No restrictions. When do I get my declaration of love from the one I’ve been waiting for?

When do I get to come home and find someone is waiting for me because they cannot wait to share the best and the also the worst thing that happened to them that day?

When do I get jump up and kiss someone just because I can?

You know, in this modern life with all of it’s perks, amazon prime, 2 day shipping of ANY THING you could possible want, an UBER ride away from your dream XXX- fill in the blank, a swipe away from your perfect man...with all that considered we also seem to put an awful lot of restrictions on ourselves…?

I can’t eat that.

I shouldn’t look at that.

I can’t wear this.

I have to do that.

With all these restraints, I believe I have lost the connections to my inner child's voice. The fearless, irrational, moody, artistic mind that I could let it be.

She was bold and would say what she wanted. Let emotions flow through her body. Express them when needed. Not yet jaded by all this social standard bullshit.

Perhaps I crawled out of bed and started writing to give her a voice again.

What would she say?

It's ok to cry when you want to. It’s ok to feel disappointed.

It’s ok to have expectations.

You are awesome exactly as you are.

You have already succeeded in so many ways.

Now figure out what makes you happy.

Where does that puts me?...I don’t know…

I think that is my lesson. I must become more comfortable with the unknown. With letting go of the need for constant action in order for action to also come to me.

How do I do that though, when I am ready and the universe is simply torturing me with all this loneliness?

All I can say is, the journey will continue exactly the way it going right now. I’m along for the ride and I think I have at least put one foot forward in putting this out there.

And hopefully you can feel something too by reading this.

Feel heard. Feel loved. Feel cared for. Feel appreciated. Feel seen.

What else could we want?