In the Rain

the night was unkind

and dreams

scattered their sharp fragments

to the far corners of my mind

and I woke to grey, chill

wet

and lingering feelings

dream-borne

so

I went out

into the rain

just out

to be in it

for a little while

in the rain

and the silence

that wasn't

silent

in the stillness

that wasn't

still

and oh, the rain fell

soft, soaking drops

like fingers tracing my lines

running along my arms

brushing my face

little tender strokes

light as feathers

kisses falling where they may

they steamed

where they landed

no match

for my internal flame

out in the rain

I felt you

again

for a little while

in the rain

Addict

I'm an addict.

It's true.

I have an addiction.

It started out innocent enough...just a little bit here and there, just for fun now and then.

After a while, though, I wanted more. I started looking for excuses to get it, to get my fix.

Then it wasn't enough to have a little here and there. No, I wanted more, and more often. Every day, in fact.

Pretty soon, it was all I could think of - the next fix. In between times, I was watching the clock, thinking about the next time. It never lasted long enough, and I found myself trying to get it any way I could. I couldn't concentrate on anything but the next hit. Even in the middle of a fix, I would think about how long it would last, and when I could get my next one. When I couldn't get it, I was grumpy, depressed, and unpleasant to be around. I couldn't sleep if I had to go without it.

I had a couple of days where it was 24/7, and it was amazing. Going back to my old use pattern was hard, and it wasn't the same. After a few months, I needed another big score...four days this time, and I had to share, but it was still amazing.

I love my addiction. I have no intention of getting clean from it. From him.

Nope.

He's under my skin, and that's fine with me. Anyway, I'm pretty sure the Betty Ford Center doesn't have anything to cure love. Thank the Gods.

It's a Cold and It's a Broken...

Sometimes, I think I am a curse.

Not cursed. A curse.

No good comes of knowing me. People have perfectly adequate lives until I come along, and then...then things start going wrong.

Sometimes I think I'd be doing the world a favor to hide myself away, keep my poison contained in myself. Every life I touch becomes toxic in some way. I'm helpless to stop it, can't even clean up the mess I can't help but feel I've made.

Sometimes I think I really should just keep myself to myself.

Oddly, I was just speaking to a friend who feels something of the same thing about himself.

Despite how he feels about himself...I feel blessed to know him. In him, I find fortune's gift...in him, I find comfort, and hope. With him I feel loved, cherished, comforted, free, powerful, empowered.

I don't want to be a curse in this man's life.

Just once, dear Goddess...blessed mother...she from whom all life came...just once, could I please, please, be a blessing?



And Sir? If you see this? You didn't cause it. Truly. This? It's my nature.