Today is a sad day for me. Yet sadness they say like almost every other emotion is a choice.  Sadness for me is a choice. I am an emotional girl and anyone who has spent three seconds reading my blog is well aware of the range of my emotions. When I feel happiness it is in its purest form and I feel it with every part of me. When I feel sadness I wear it; like a heavy lead vest I wear it and carry it around with me until I am buried beneath it. It often stays there until someone; someone stronger than myself lifts it away and allows fresh air and new perspective into my world. I do the same with love. Love though is nothing like sadness. I do not see love as a choice, perhaps there was a time when I did; a time when I foolishly thought myself strong enough to stand stoic in the shade, so that only the shadow of the sunshine touched me and never its warmth. I think I feared love, even more than sadness I feared love. I am not so sure anymore. Of a lot of things I am not so sure. I think there was safety in that fear and I wonder if I was write to stand in the shade after all.


I know that today is the saddest of days. I dread the darkness tonight when in my blindness and pain I will be at my most vulnerable…I will crave his strength and yet I will know it isn’t mine to ask for, or to need. I feel as if I am walking through today blindly and there is nothing warm enough here or soft enough here to make it better or to cushion the pounding pain that has turned physical.  

I think of a Neruda poem that I love…and it comforts me.


“And so now ….I have to learn to swim inside my dreams

In case the sea should come visit me in my sleep

And when that happens, all will be well…

And when tomorrow stirs

On the wet stones, the sand

And the great resounding sway of sea

will know who I am…and why I return.”



I am thankful for my life, for what I have; for all that I got to do while I was here. I am thankful for the wonderful people I have known and all the joy they gave me.  I am deeply remorseful for any pain I ever made anyone feel. I am sorry that in my life there were times when I hurt people that I loved. I am so blessed to have spent the past year and a half learning about myself, discovering and growing. In many ways it was a great year….


I allowed myself to be touched by the sun this year, it warmed me and brought a flush to my face and it came to me in the form of a man.  A wonderful, rare form of man who was able to teach me what I thought I was unable to learn…he was able to accept and show me how to accept what was always before unacceptable. He dried tears that without his light  and touch I would have been unable to cry. Loving him was a quiet miracle that I never knew I wanted and didn’t know I could have. Time with him was the greatest of gifts. Time with him was suspended somewhere high above my reach and when it fell to me it fell softly and it landed all around me. It encircled me and protected me, loved me. I love this man with a reverence that startles me. He was a lifeline to me, he gave me some elusive gift that I can never return or repay. Only now I am thinking I was wrong…I saw what I wanted to see and I loved what I wanted to love….


And now it’s over. I write today and realize that my relationship with him has paralleled my life…both have been quietly dying. I am not Richards anymore. I can’t be and like the sadness that has thickly wrapped itself around me this was my choice. There may be ten reasons why and maybe only one makes any sense and maybe even that one can be tapped with a small hammer, shattered and swept away. I don’t know, I have put the hammer away.


I do know that while he was gone a place inside of me opened up. It was a warm place created to protect me and shelter me as I concluded many things. It was the soft wall I threw myself against when I missed him…the safe place where I quietly wept when I knew I had been left for far too long and where I hid yesterday when I felt wounded and hurt.  Then he was home, he was back. When he returned hard truths came with him and he thrust them at me, in the cruelest of ways and with the cruelest most damaging, hurtful words he thrusts them into that warm place that was already wounded and needy, already failing and trying to hold to so much. It folded in and it closed over me and it told me to stop, to acknowledge the truth here that I have not paid anttention to…..to all the times when it was so obvious and I decided to let what I had with him make up for all I didn’t. It told me to stop asking for what would make it better….for what would make it right because there was no give. All along it was the good always outweighed the bad. Of course thats not true….and it hasn’t been in almost a year yet the good when I thought it was real always met the bad face to face and put up a pretty good fight. That can’t happen now…there is no cushion. The good was only as strong as what I believed to be true.


There is so much in my life today that I can’t control. 

It would be even more selfish of me to not end this now that I know the full range of my own disillusionment. I could justify my own pain and accept it because of what I thought I was giving back…and now that fascade is ripped away. I can’t control that. I can control this. I can walk away from him and know I will eventually get past the pain of his loss. One day it won’t hurt so badly and I won’t imagine his face or his hands or how he made me feel. This I know to be true, it is the natural order of things…he taught me that. I am a foolish girl and created something in my head that should have never been created. He let me but I can’t blame him for that…he even said I knew the kind of person he was all along. I should have known better, been better, stronger and smarter than what I was. I have never felt more disillusioned, disenchanted and just let down in all of my life. It is as if someone walked through the sweetest of dreams throwing knives, poking holes and burying screaming survivors.


Things aren’t always what they seem, either are people. I had no right to lift him so high, to place him on my lofty pedestal and assume he would never jump.


People jump.


I’m going to be alright. Forgive me for being so vague. There is nothing really to explain….no reason this has ended outside what I wrote already and for all the reasons and for all the truths that were always, always there.

I am going to focus on other things right now. I need to feel worthy of being loved again. I want to feel pride again and I have lost so much of that. I have allowed myself to be desperate for someone else and to love to the point of allowing it to blind me into thinking it was returned. I don’t know if I will have that chance. I don’t have time to have or take chances and so maybe that is what he meant…maybe that was what he was trying to say today. 




She felt only the caress of moving, of being moved…moving with him and in him and him inside of her. She felt like she had been absorbed; lost into his flesh, his body, his touch, the touch of this man who knew her so well. It was like water that day, like water and cold and heat only it all felt the same. It felt tight and hard like lace around her legs; a black fabric biting into soft thighs or a hand gripping a slim throat as if it were a rope. His rough thumb marred the whiteness of her skin, digging into the beauty of the hollowness of that spot that pulsed with each fragile breath she offered him.

Time didn’t exist, nothing did, and there was no one else, nothing between them. Perhaps there never had been and in that moment it didn’t matter. He replaced his hands for teeth and he bit into her neck sucking smooth skin into his mouth, tasting her, devouring her. Needing more. There was adventure in his touch, in his breath and it was like danger dripping on them both until they were both wet with it, slippery. He was all over her and in her and his hand was hard in her hair and on her face cupping her chin for his kisses, his teeth grazing her cheek, nibbling at her bruised lips tasting her whimpers and knowing there was so much more to come. A quick hand slipped between them pulling loose fabric away from damp skin tearing it away in its urgency to slip between hot, open thighs. They parted like her lips when he touched her and she curved into him a needy startled cry tearing from her throat. His eyes buried her, smothered her and the madness of his need threatened to consume her. It did consume her and she tossed her head trying to find a place where her thoughts stopped melting and draining away into puddles reflecting what he could do to her, what he was capable of and what she so longed to feel. His hands were rough and hard and left red and purple trails in their wake and he marveled at her softness, at his desire to break her, to tear into the softness of her; to pull it out and spread it over him like the richest cream. It was as if she was snow and vanilla and everything sweet and melting in his grasp. It all ran together between them, where every breath and touch ended on a fragment, an unfinished musing that never waned.

There was no dalliance here, not tonight; rarely between them was there the false pretense of tender lovemaking. He was fucking her, he fucked her and she loved it, she needed it and he needed to take her. He buried his fingers in her again and she lifted against him. He flipped her over ignoring the sheets that wrapped around her legs, sheets that tied her to him and kept her his. His hand was tight on the back of her neck and the other one was again inside of her, filling her. He felt her muscles clutch at his fingers and her wetness was everything warm and soft to him. Her moaning was rhythmic and musical as she struggled with finding her breath and the heat between her legs burnt her, scared her and reminded her that she was his. She lifted up and moved into him sliding herself against him loving the weight of him pressing her back down, holding her down…she struggled with a feigned bravery against his unyielding skin. Snaking an arm around her waist he turned her again pulling her hard against his chest his heart so loud, a storm in her ears soaking her in it’s rain before tossing her back down hard on the bed in front of him. Her breathing was fast and his eyes took everything away from her, all that she didn’t need, didn’t want and would have given to him anyway. He took it from her with a glance, with a single touch, with a bite that she felt days later. Yet there was still more and she wanted it. He recognized her need, her growing whimpers almost frantic coming from deep within her. His mouth was against hers as he fed her whispers that grew between them like a dark cry of release, a cry of surrender of complete nothingness that was everything. He demanded everything. Her nipples were hardened and slick and his fingers bit into them with a piercing ache that gripped her. He twisted the rubbery silken skin lifting her off of the bed his eyes were watching her face, the agony, the pure pleasure of giving him the pain he so desired was all over her. It was in the delicate layer of dampness that covered her skin, it was in every short breath that filled the air between them and in the way she needed him.

There was pain at both ends of his touch and he held nothing back knowing that he didn’t need to, he couldn’t, he had tried and failed.

Some people collide and explode together almost as if they should have never met. Only they did and everything changed, everything had to. He needed her, he loved her and she was as much his as the hands that even now hurt her. So his hands reminded her of that and the marks on her skin were like memories to her for she had never forgotten.


impossible dream

I don’t know how to tell you what I feel. I live in perpetual expectancy. You come and the time slips away in a dream. It is only when you go that I realize completely your presence. And then it is too late. You numb me. ~Henry Miller to Anais Nin

There was just something about him that made her pause. Thoughts of him never fully left her mind…always, always it seemed a part of him remained on her tongue.

He filled the air around himself with everything that was alive, dark and dangerous. She wanted him. She wanted him from the first time she saw him, when even then she recognized the look in his eyes. It made her fretful with a need she didn’t quite understand and left her with a longing she knew one day she would sate. She remembered how he looked at her that day, what he whispered to her and how his fingers felt brushing her jawline. He was dangerous though it was much later that she realized just how dangerous. He could hurt her, he had hurt her…and she craved pain from him with a hungry gratefulness she never quite understood. When she thought of him it always left her with a hungry feeling..and emptiness that she knew only he was capable of filling. 


His hands she would remember always…she remembered how they felt on her skin. His fingers seeking entry deep inside her cunt was a memory easily and repeatedly played back in her fevered mind. He demanded much, he took everything and even in his relentless passion for her there was a softness in his eyes that drew her in. It took hold of her each time she saw him and left her falling sometimes uncontrollably into the darkness of what he demanded. For him she knew she would do anything.

There was an undenaiable connection from the start….if possible he would have consumed her and often in her mind he did. There was a deep intensity in him that she imagined few recognized for what it was. She found herself haunted by him. When she touched herself in the darkness it was sometimes hours later that she realized her faceless brutal lover taking her, hurting her, pinning her beneath him and fucking her hard again and again was not faceless.

And when she saw him she was forced to quiet the child within herself from bubbling over….inside she would be giddy and leap throwing herself into his arms..speaking finally “it is you…it is the man in my dreams, I remember you…the lover who has taken me so many times in my sleep…it was so real, surely you were truly by my side.” And sometimes in her minds eye he would smile affectionately and tell her dreams were silly like that…he would tell her to forget him, their affair he would say was one of impossibility and certain pain. She would agree. Yet other times his handsome face would darken in her mind and his look would cause her to tremble. Her hands on his chest would suddenly be less sure and she would feel stunned by that elusive magic he was able to project…that nameless compelling feeling that would surround the moment and threaten to drown them both. It was just there….whatever it was. It was thick and deep and dripped off of them. His hands would grind into her skin and he would pull her to him drinking in her sweetness, her smell, her taste….he would whisper against the softness of her cheek that she was his…that she was his to take, to fuck, to hurt. His need matched her own and they were furious in their dark pursuit of the other…this brutal collision between man and woman was surely meant to be. Sometimes he would take her immediately…again and again he would plunge into her…his groan to her was everything sensual and arousing. Sometimes he would linger over her…playing with her body…enjoying the marks his hands, his belt, his teeth could leave on her white skin. She made the sadist in him more sadistic…the Master in him stronger…and he loved hurting her. He would turn her over onto her stomach and use her hard…he would bury himself deep in her ass ignoring her cries…mercilessly in his fucking of her as if he too had been dreaming and knew either of them could awaken at any moment.

She would waken in the hours before dawn clutching at this dream…his smell somehow on her pillow, in her hair, across her breasts..rising from the damp milky heat between her legs. He had been there with her in her sleep…she felt him. She tasted him.