I Wish I Hated Him

He can be so infuriating!
Frustrating!
Crazy-making!

I wish I hated him!

I wish that my love for him wasn't an extra piece of me residing just below my solar plexus. A rib. A hidden heart.

I wish I didn't find his smiles and dimple so charming.

I wish that he loved himself a little more so he could believe the unrealistically devoted way I love him.

Then maybe he'd stop the defensive script in his mind.

His script hurts me.

They're words of defamation he tells himself, words he defends himself from, words he flings into my mouth so I can't be fun, funny, witty, silly, cavalier, or serious without his automatic wall coming up.

These parts of me he fell in love with.

Those bits of me that light up.

My salt and my light, they blind him and all he tastes is the bitterness of bittersweet.

I wish I hated him so that I could walk on by, all lassaiz-faire attitude, "You do you, Buddy."

Kick rocks.

Pack your baggage.

Sayonara Senor!

Dammit.

My heart. It's not my own. It would break without him. It would crumble into ash and leave a dusty pile where it once beat.

My heart wants him to take those dirty words out of his mouth and mind, and only notice the salt and light of my soul.

The sweetness. The ruby.

Because instead of my light making him bright, his wall casts a shadow.

No matter how bright I shine, I am strangled by it.

That is not a life.

I wish I hated him...

My Darling

Richard is my darling.


I am infatuated with my darling.  My eyes glitter and sparkle when I daydream of my darling.  As I sleep, my dreams are infiltrated by my darling.


My hands love to explore my darling's body.
My lips long to taste my darling's kiss.
My eyes drink in the sight of my darling each time he enters a room.
My hips gravitate and my dancing feet saunter
          closer and closer to my darling whenever I hear the beat of his heart.


My darling, my darling, my Richard.


He energizes my smile.
He energizes my day.
He energizes my love.
     and my trust
          and my faith


in men, people, and myself.


My darling.

The Real Lola

when i share a poem it is me baring something that i normally keep bottled up. it is my vulnerability.

i did not write poems my whole life.
i did not receive accolades for creativity when i was growing.
i did not put pen to paper, or fingers to keystrokes as a teen or even as a young adult.


for me, writing is new. it is young. it is a cherubic faced baby suckling on my tit looking for nourishment and love.


when i can sit in the quiet of my apartment without chores, guilt, worry, or obligations, and...

when that time comes and also i am blessed with the innermost woman speaking from the depths of my heart

she longs to be heard.
she longs to be understood and known.
she tires of her quiet solitude in my heart.


and when she is greeted with silence

the silences is interpreted as rejection.

She is too deep.
She is too needy.
She is too, too, too... you name it.

Just too much.

So she fears she will be buried again,
rejected
laughed at
rolled eyes
dismissed
hated

.

Tragedy/Comedy

I have come far.  I have come home.

I have made my own home.  Like an orphan longing for a family, I have created my fantasy.  I have created my dreams and I have wrestled my nightmares.  I was never supposed to live this life of loneliness and longing and unbelonging.

I feel like I am known by many, but truly known by none.

Truly.  Deeply.

Known.

Do I even know myself?  Yes.

Do I love me?  Maybe.

Enough?  I hope so.

How can a man love me, if he lives too far away to really know me?  How do I rest in confidence and assurance of love?

Words fade.  Fear creeps in.

Faith must follow stronger!  Faith must run faster!  Faith must fight harder!

I am worth it, and I know me!!!

Someone only God knows

My past is like water.


I was drenched.  Soaked.  Caught in a torrent.


Naked and shivering 


I clung to my dignity like a hooded raincoat.




My heart clung.




My heart changed.




I walked miles.




Like evolutionary man, like God's creation


a child of Mercy


I bathed myself in forgiveness


I stood upright; I threw off my fear




I stand strong.


I sit in love.


I rest anew.

Richard. Life. Love. Future.

As the sun goes down this evening, I embrace my hope.

The woman who I am at night, dreams new dreams.

My thoughts glow.

My red lips smile.

The drums of my love beat a slow and growing rhythm.

In the heart of my night

the day's troubles sink, they are left far behind.

I am a tango.

The flower in my hair is fragrant.

I dip and know I will be embraced.  

We Love

I knew I was in love.  


How did I know?  


When he started doing annoying things, and I noticed but didn't care.  When he thought he looked good, but was really a fashion disaster, and I was still happy to go out and do things with him (not try to get him to change his outfit).  When he walked in the door to my apartment and it just felt like he belonged there.  


I knew I was in love, when I looked at him and thought to myself, "I love this man".


I knew I was in love, when I could acknowledge that I didn't know if he loved me or not, and I could accept the relationship as it is because I wouldn't want anything to change.  Because I love him, and I love us!


I knew I loved him because I so desperately wanted him to love me in return, and yet I didn't say a word.  I didn't hint, ask, or fish.


I knew I loved him when it was comforting to think of the words in Song of Solomon that said, "Do not awaken love until love so desires".  Knowing that love had awakened in me, but ignorant to the depth of his feelings.


I love him.


I love him without fear of getting hurt.


I love him and I want nothing about him to change.


I love him just as he is.


It has been more than a month since I discovered within myself that I love him.


And on Saturday, as we were standing at the end of Pier 39 in San Francisco, we had just taken a photo in front of the water, he looked down at me and said those beautiful, and magical words, "I love you".


I love.


I am loved.