Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Wine loosens the mind

Dear Man,

I am writing to today the truth that I am unable to state. The honesty I hide behind layers of bravado and ego and pride. The honest truth that I have shielded my own self from knowing. the connection with my soul that I have hidden not only from you but from my own concious self

I care about you deeply.

I don't know what that means or how it comes across but I want you as a part of my life and have ever since I met you. I hide behind the concept that I am truelly independant in my youth and freedom. I have told my self in mantra that I am nothing if not alone. That I need no one.

And in some ways it is true. I don't 'need' you I will survive with or without you. But I want to be with you and I want you to want to be with me.

You make my heart beat faster, my pulse race and the blood rush to my core. I desire you, care for you and most of all respect you.

I have offered you my body in the most crass of ways and the fact that you turned me away ssimply confirms that my feelings are rightly placed.

I don't want to change you, I just want you to want to hold me in your arms and comfort me.

You may not feel this way about me, and this honesty may disrpt any chance we have of being 'just frends'. I care not for sex. Though it would be a lovelly sharing between us again, I feel that I would be better off for simply having you in my life.

If only I coukld tell you this in truth. For now I will pretend and play the game that makes me so sad inside and so cowardly of heart.

Not with love but with adoration and respect,

Woman.

Friday, August 1, 2008

Empty Vessel.

She finds herself unable to reach the normal locus of inner calm. Previously an undiminishing well of sanctuary now a devestating void. Grey hands reach out and grasp but to no avail. Sheer frustration at lifes unending insecurities. Lack of commitment from others leaves life hovering around her, feet clear off the ground unable to find the gentle solice of earth.

The well has been drained by weeks and weeks of insecurity. Token gestures of care not enough to sustain the drain of everyone elses self pity.

A slap from a friend, a backhand from an employer, and with a mirror held up to every weakness, already shaken and vulnerable, the final blow - he lets her down.

Yearning has grown too strong again. Detatch. Damn it detatch. But oh! She does pine to be held in someones arms and cared for like the babe so regularly neglected by the perpetual adult.

So much potential and yet wasting away in this den of iniquity. For shame.

She desperately needs to have some fun. bring forth the Medusa, woman scorned, bitter and dangerous. The night of deamons awaits and the gorgon intends to let her hair fly free.