I dream of many things. The future is a mirage of beautiful potentials. My dreams pour out of fountains, streamers of color, each a different, fully realized possibility.
But I do not sleep. I am exhausted, from all of this inadvertent creation and emotion. 
I understand that it is good to plan ahead, but must I really be as prepared as a Girl Scout on cocaine? 
I dreamed of you last night. 
First I kissed your pillowy lips, gently, lovingly.
You stroked my face, my waist, my ass.
And then I remembered how I feel.
How you make me feel,
When you blindly announce all of the reasons I shouldn’t be with you
They sound an awful lot like bodies, minds, souls, hearts, names. 
And I shove you away from me.
You protest and I attack,
Paddling, clawing, pummeling,
Whatever physical harm I can try to infringe so that you might know how the inside of my emotional body cavity feels, every day. 
But you hold me at bay.
Somehow I am unable to make contact, 
You deflect my attacks and I have to approach with a loving hand in order to attempt a slap in the face.
But in your aura, your ozone, your magnetic field, 
I cannot touch you with harm.
My insides writhe with fury
And still no good comes of it.
I awake with a feeling of dread
When I went to bed with such delight.

I met someone else. 
And last night we had an amazing time.
I enjoyed his company
I enjoyed his attention
I enjoyed his touch
I enjoyed his body
And most of all, I enjoyed his empathy.
Oh, believe me when I say that I am sure he has a whole host of unenjoyables, but for the moment, I am delighted. 
Especially because at so many of my self-announced red flag moments, 
For instance, when I mentioned you,
He shrugged them off, or,
Suggested some sort of thoughtful reason why it was alright. 

I would like to see him again. 
And I definitely do not want you to be in the way,
However subconsciously. 

 

Who knew that it would take another possible realized potential to get me out of this rut of you?
I need to be careful.
I need some space of my own.
I need space to see other people, remember?
I need to be clear with him. 
And myself,
And therefore you,
That other people I do not believe can include you anymore, as much as it pains me.
Because of course I miss you, 
But as this dream burdens me as dead, rotting weight
In my heart and in my gut
I am beginning to realize that the pleasure might not be worth all this pain
Especially since you do not seem to be able to receive any when I try and dish it back.
I am growing weary. 
In fact, I am exhausted.
Give me back my dreams, and give me back my hope. 

 

 

PS – I think the reason I hate kissing with as much tongue as everyone else is that because of my acute sense of smell, I also possess an overwhelming capacity for taste. Which makes saliva a little more potent of a substance than some may think. Breath odor is a real thing, people. Ugh. 

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