I love a man I should not. He is not my husband. I have no right.
I love a man I should not. He is tall, solid, warm, low, and rumbly. I love him secretly, when I am alone, at night, in dark, quiet places.
I've written of him in other places, to other people. If words could purge him from me, entirely, cleanly, make him gone, or never was, I would write of him tirelessly to be free of him.
Because I love him, and I should not. It is folly. He's tender, gentle, kind, smart, and attentive. I love him painfully strong, big, overwhelming.
I don't want to love him. I want to love the man I married. I despair of this love.
He loves me back, clings like a cockle bur to me even when he isn't there, reminds me with his scent on the breeze - pine, smoke, something indefinably him.
When he is not there, I crave his heat, surrounding me, melting the ice I so carefully layered around my heart to ward him off.
When he is not there, I crave his presence, nestled against me in the night, skin to skin, feeling him along the length of me, his breath a mantra in the dark.
When he is not there, I crave his kisses, soft, sweet, insistent, passionate, toe-curling, breath-stealing kisses. Grown-up kisses. Kisses that leave me stunned, delighted, feeling well and truly loved.
When he is not there, I search for him, desperate for a few stolen moments...and when he is there, I run from him, craven, craving....
It's a hell of a thing when you're haunted by a dream, a figment, a construct of the imagination; when someone who isn't there, never was, fills the emptiness, completes the spirit in a way the man you married can't, won't, doesn't even know is there.
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Followers
About Me
- Knight Angel
- The Leaden Plains, Inmost Secrets
- Most often, I am an ordinary woman living an ordinary life in an ordinary world, but sometimes...sometimes I am a blighted soul, benighted by doubt, self-recrimination, anger, bitterness, rage, resentment, and the darker human emotions. Then, I am the Knight Angel, and then I write hard, sharp, slicing words and leave them to be found by like-minded souls or the unwary. Caution: Here there be dragons, demons, and creatures of the worst sort.
The Rules
If you know or even think you know who The Knight Angel is, keep it to yourself.
If you think someone else will benefit from this place, show them the door. If you're thinking about telling someone about the Lament because you know they're mentioned here and want to stir the pot - don't. Don't be a dick.
Remember, this is a place for me to dump my worst thoughts and feelings. If you know me and want to discuss what you've read here, ask once. Respect my need not to talk about it. Respect my desire to separate myself from it. Respect my process.
No using my content to poke anyone else in the ego, or any other part of their emotional anatomy. No copying, no borrowing of content with my express permission.
If you don't like what I'm writing, quit reading. I am not going to filter or sugar-coat what I am feeling. This is my dumping ground. I don't need you to like me - I need a place to put these things so they don't fester in my mind.
Thought is NOT action. Thinking is NOT doing.
If you don't like me, remember...this is just ONE part of my being. I am human. I have dark, bleak thoughts and feelings. I can own them, can face them, can acknowledge that they don't define me. Can you do the same?
Failure to comply with these rules will result in the Lament becoming a private party, and quite probably a certain Knight Angel putting a big cosmic whammy on your ass. Fair warning - play nice or piss off.
If you think someone else will benefit from this place, show them the door. If you're thinking about telling someone about the Lament because you know they're mentioned here and want to stir the pot - don't. Don't be a dick.
Remember, this is a place for me to dump my worst thoughts and feelings. If you know me and want to discuss what you've read here, ask once. Respect my need not to talk about it. Respect my desire to separate myself from it. Respect my process.
No using my content to poke anyone else in the ego, or any other part of their emotional anatomy. No copying, no borrowing of content with my express permission.
If you don't like what I'm writing, quit reading. I am not going to filter or sugar-coat what I am feeling. This is my dumping ground. I don't need you to like me - I need a place to put these things so they don't fester in my mind.
Thought is NOT action. Thinking is NOT doing.
If you don't like me, remember...this is just ONE part of my being. I am human. I have dark, bleak thoughts and feelings. I can own them, can face them, can acknowledge that they don't define me. Can you do the same?
Failure to comply with these rules will result in the Lament becoming a private party, and quite probably a certain Knight Angel putting a big cosmic whammy on your ass. Fair warning - play nice or piss off.
5 comments:
a taxing and trying place to be..
I used to feel this way, and then I found him... real. Beware, what you dream can become. And it, he will incorporate not only your bright longing, but your darker fantasies, too.
Robert, yes it is...and if I weren't put together like (and stubborn as) a mule, it'd wear my sorry ass down.
MM - why do you think I run, even as I crave?
Authentic, I could read a novella
by you about this love, this man.
Cynthia, thank you...but I dare not even write of him too often, for he is a sweet, addictive toxin, opium of the soul, and deadly in too large a dose...
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