Tag Archives: love

The Transcendental Transaction of Touch

December 21, 2014 Thomas Leave a comment

Please. There is an emptiness, that can only be filled by the texture of skin, and the thrum of circulation, and a warmth that is not my own.
Yes. Here I am, not with an emptiness, but an openness to meet you where you are, and to share in your hunger.

Please. The last time? I cannot account. Fluids were exchanged, but hearts were not.
No. This is not how I think about us. That is not what we are to each other.

Please. But last night, you…
Alright. yeah. ok..

Please. It aches, inside, where you are not.
Maybe. Let’s see how good you can be.

Please. Even in the lights and noise of the city, it is too dark and quiet, here, alone.
Let’s talk. How much do you have to spend?

Please. We never do, anymore.
Not now, I’m tired.

Please. You are so beautiufl.
Yes. I love you.

Please. I am lonely.
No. Loneliness looks bad on you.

Please. You are so good at it.
No. You are not.

Please.
Yes.

Thank you.
Our pleasure, shared.

Timepiece

December 19, 2014 Thomas Leave a comment

I love the clock in the mantel of your breast. It ticks with an organic precision, which is not precise at all. Time flies in moments of anger and excitement, but when you are content and at peace, the flow moves slowly. I love the ticking of this instrument, and I know it well.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

My days are measured by 1000 clocks. I hear the clicking of their mechanism, occasionally the whoosh of their gears, and sometimes the sweep of their second hand, as it counts down to nothing. Some, I have heard race too fast to count, as their first seconds of life begin. Some, I was the last, ever, to hear. Some, I knew, would not take long to end, as the rhythm became broken. It is the measure of their lives.

Tick tock. Tick tick tick tock.

But yours is the measure of my life. The joy, the wonder, the peace, the fear, the love. With every tick, our life is built. Each tock, our love grows to entwine us. In every hour and every precious second, it is the rhythm of our dance, the meter for the orchestra of our experiences and our plans. It is the metronome for the student, humbled in how much he has to learn, yet excited for the beauty that is now open to him.

Tick tick tock tock.

If I could no longer hear that sound, then time will have run out, for me, too. For 20 years, 630 million seconds, I have lived to your rhythm, danced to your meter, sang the song of your prosody, and I pray to run out of numbers before I stop counting its precious beat.

The Tie

October 31, 2014 Thomas Leave a comment

He was folding the thin end of the gold and auburn, autumn themed silk tie over the wider end, just above the second button. The collar button was still open, because his neck had grown slightly larger than the shirt would comfortably allow. He was excited about the dinner engagement, tonight. Maybe, it’s a little early to dip his toe back in the romantic waters, but somehow he felt ready.

Ever since Chuck had left three weeks ago, he felt the sense of elation and freedom. Though they had been together for four years, the flames had turned to embers, and the embers turned to ash. By the time the decision was made, it was clear to both that things between them had been over for a long time. The surprise to him was that Chuck called it first.

Now, he felt like a kid again. All those things he wanted to do, but felt responsible to stay home with Chuck instead, were now available to him. Shows he wanted to see, men he wanted to date, men he wanted to fuck, all out there, and now, so was he.

Tonight’s dinner with Alex, was a bit of a surprise too. They met in line at the local burger slam, both with a bit of shame for even being there, and they shared a meal of burgers and fries, giggling helplessly, telling childhood fart jokes and stories of crazy relatives.

They agreed to do dinner together, as a kind of dress-up special night. It was something neither had done in years. “Suit and tie,” Alex had said, “Bring on the good stuff.” He actually wasn’t sure where they were going, but his excitement made his fingers shake a little.

As he restarted the knot for the third time, he thought about dates like tonight and some of the guys he’d met online, that he hoped to get together with. Amazingly some very hot men lived not very far from him. He realized how much the closeness of his close dependence on Chuck blinded him to the beauty of the world around, and now, it was his to savor.

He looked in the mirror expecting to be proud and ready to face this world of many wonders, but still, the knot was crooked. The excited shaking in his hands became a tremor.

“But, who will tie my tie?”

Words tripping

October 31, 2014 Thomas Leave a comment

The words came tripping, tumbling, rolling over each other pushing their way out, trying to be first, but each one just came behind the next, until they were all mixed up, almost backwards. They came in flows of syllables and bitterness and tears and whines and loneliness and hiccuping breaths and ‘I’m sorries’ and snot. They emptied themselves like a bad fish dinner, spilling out over the phone and leaving their malodorous mark on the countertop and floor.

I don’t know what they’re saying or what they’re doing but I’m crying and trying to keep them under control as they spill, and tumble, and vault and stab.. And then, once completely purged, there is nothing but a silence that I don’t know how to handle.

I was certain he’d hung up on me, and that this tirade was for naught, other than perhaps to vent my spleen, but that would not move me forward at all. The obvious next step would be to say “hello?” But that itself felt like a form of defeat, like I was expecting him to be gone, to be overwhelmed with my weirdness and sadness and inability to cope and he would be unclear where it all came from. The silence ticked on for a few more moments, and then I heard him say, “I’m sorry.”

My hands were shaking enough that the phone rattled on my ear, but I still heard the words loud and strong and comforting. I was reunited. I was reunited with the fact that I love this man, and that my angst was just a symptom of how close we are and how distant we are and how much I feared the space between us, and because of how much I depend on him, and how easy it is, sometimes, for small hurts to become big walls.

And those two words were him coming back to my rescue, once again, offering me a way out from that stupid place that I keep going and staying. Again, he was right there where he’s needed.

My words, having had their say, became still in my mouth and in my head.

A grammar, interrupted

October 9, 2014 Thomas Leave a comment

He kissed me in the linguistics section of the local used book store. The irony was not lost on me, because the gentle tapping of his tongue on my lips was a language, itself, full of meaning and intention, meant to make me lose, at least, my train of thought, and at most, my self control, which had been tugging at the leash all day, and trying to abandon me for easier work.

I was reading about an analysis of the Baltic languages through the lens of artificial semantics models, when he surprised me with that gift. The wave of feeling was immediate and overwhelming. The page went blank, and the room grew so hot I almost fainted.

The first tear started in my left eye, and it was the kind of tear you get when you see something precious rescued from a fire, or a predator mothering what would normally be prey. A glimpse of something bigger and more beautiful. The power of kindness and the stab of hope.

The other tear came with sadness. The loss of the moment only just begun. The realization that what I know this to be
is not what I feel it to be,
and not what I want it to be. Too soon to grieve, but too late to fix the course.

The wave hit me, and quickly passed, but those two feelings, side-by-side, still lingered. I stood there in my moment of drama, shaking inside, and probably outside, to anyone who was closely watching.

He was closely watching..

I think it took him by surprise, because it was partly done in play, seeing what he could do in mischief, and fun. But a little bit, he was testing his power, seeing what he could get away with, seeing how far he could push me.

“What’s wrong,” he said?

“Give me a moment. I’m gonna finish looking at this section.” But 100 book spines all spoke the same thing. Communication is hard. Words are insufficient. Understanding is incomplete. We can try, but it still doesn’t make sense.

I’ve been here before: the closeness, the drawing back, the flirting, the wait, the kiss, the wondering, the surrender, the fear, the sex, then the silence. I am not ready to do it again, and it seems both hopeless and inevitable.

As we stepped from the darkness of the store into the brilliance of the day, I led him out to a wall where we could sit and watch the traffic.

“You used powerful magic, in there,” I said, in words I hoped would understand. “It has a big impact on me.” I thought it would be a smile, but instead a look of concern crossed his face. I needed to ask, “Do you know what you’re doing?”

He stopped to ponder the question, which seemed to be a good sign. Then, he looked at me, the way he does. That way that makes me lose my words, and fall deeper into his mischief.

“Yes,” he replied gently, but some part of me was not sure that he truly did, for his end game is different to mine. He is playing for sex, and I, foolishly, am falling in love.

As we started to walk again, two of the voices in my head spoke simultaneously.
“Yes, let him play.”
“Please. Don’t fuck me up.”
But neither one offered me words that would give me any real clarity. Meaning would have to wait.

Bob and Thomas