Musings On A Friday Night

Why waste the potential of wishing for one night when you could create an everafter full of them? I think I’d take it over nothing, but it would just start the heart over in the yearning of it all. Of you. And I’m not sure I could survive that again. For the third time.

To feel the ache of the missing piece found, only to be ripped away again. And willingly? To find the answer to your call, the ebb to your flow? What delight.

What’s the point in limiting the dream to just a breath if it was only ever imaginary in the first place? Why not go all in and lose yourself in the madness you create in the late hours of your day? At least there I know we’re together. At least there we have a purpose, a reason for having been.

Otherwise - one night only serves to light a fire and watch it blaze to a temperature so hot it is doused to contain it. Then you stand and watch the embers struggle for oxygen, for life.

My inner introvert is screaming 😂😂😂

And as I dig into my daydream about us - I ponder if I could ever share you were you mine to hold. Could I obtain enough time in your arms, open continuing exchange of the lingering gazes we can’t help but share (the ones that feel like oxygen to me) to reach the point of satiated security in “us?”

The knowledge that regardless of what beauty or wave you might wander off in search of, that our connection transcends any threat of permanent disconnection? Knowing that just a hello in your ear would call you back to my bed? Your ears hot between my thighs…

Or would I selfishly gulp from you? Your mouth? Your thoughts? Your beauty? Your laughs? Making up for what now is more time I’ve known the loss of you than I ever knew the love?

I wonder

May 5, 1931 Journals of Anais Nin 1927-1931  [volume 4]

Dusk getting some snacks from the snack lady.

One of the funniest things I’ve seen all day. Thank you internet.

Sometimes the butterflies hold very still and hold their breath waiting to be caught.

Oh to have a love who holds my heart the way he wants to hold my body.

Vitas Luckus (1943-1987) Together | About 1969 | Vintage print |