Intelligent Sex

She wanted to know if I could taste a three or see the color of birdsong. And I said, “Have you looked inside my brain?” I hear the heat and dark of coffee calling on my tongue—threes taste of Crossroads at midnight, and birdsongs are rainbowed. All right, I didn’t say any of that. But I sure was thinking it, and that has to count, right? What I did do (say that thirteen times fast) was craft a poem with my answer in it:

“Intelligent Sex”

His grin tastes of wicked books
flirting in a library
made of whiskey and dance.

“May I feel your thoughts?” I say.

His eyes touch my hips with a Yes,
oh yes!
that is all passion-
flower and maca root to my ears.

Are you mine? I feel him sing.

I let him taste the answer
in the arching of my back,
in my pulling of his hair—
I am woman, my skin screams,
I am all mine. But I share
when I want…

…and right now, I want

intelligent sex,
red-scented… tasting of Jazz—
aphrodisiac

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the wee notes…
– I first wrote this poem as a haibun, but it didn’t feel right. I trimmed the prose and created line breaks, but left the haiku untouched—that bit felt just fine. And in case you didn’t notice, I should point out that this was a freaking blast to write.
– Maca root and passionflower have been said to enhance female libido *cough*.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Synesthesia, and to Prompt Nights ~ “Women are the real architects of Society”.

Hear the Wails

I focused on the black and yellow markings of a cricket, watched my pain merge its colors into a liquid blur. The Burmans made dinner—dandelion greens with garlic, by the smell and weediness of the screams.

They were good people, took me in and treated me humanely, after other foster families had used faith and fist to beat their demons out of me. But why can’t they hear the wails of the flowers?

I closed my mind to the hurt, but one flower broke through. “I see you,” she said. “I burn in the dark, peeking through your heart.”

.
the wee notes…
– Linked to Friday Fictioneers. Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, to join the writing fun. Follow this LINK, to read what others have written out of the cricket.
– The markings of the cricket brought to mind a blackout poem I crafted some weeks back. The flower I drew on the blackout, plus the wee poem itself, reminded me of the young protagonist of “The Dark Place”, the last story in my Blooming Howls collection. I decided to write today’s tale from her point of view. It was nice—and devastating—to write her again.

photo by Shaktiki Sharma

I see you.
I am in the dark
peeking
through your heart.

If Walking Away from Life-Sucking People Is Selfish, Call Me Ms. Ego on Fast Legs

The world is full of well-meaning people willing to murder our Selves to save our souls. And because Fate’s sense of humor comes in all shades of nasty, the saviors rarely know what we want or need.

So, what’s a girl or boy to do?

If you ask me—and several of you have asked, hence this post—anyone who believes that their heartsease is more important than your happiness (and your sanity), deserves no space in your story. No one should have to stay in a relationship that sucks the life out of them.

But walking away is so freaking hard!

Yes, it is… especially when we’ve invested years on a relationship, or when the ones we must leave behind are blood relatives. Add cultural, social, religious expectations… to the mix, and detaching ourselves from certain people and groups is more difficult than leaving the Mafia with all our limbs.

Still, leaving is possible. It is often a necessity. And many of us have done it successfully.

There are some things to keep in mind: you aren’t an emotionally-barren beast (leaving will hurt for a bit); many people in your life, particularly the life-suckers in question, will do their best to shroud you in guilt (when they do this, remind yourself why you left in the first place); hold on to those who want to be part of your life without wanting to change who you are (they are your real family); and, unless miracle strikes, and those who kept you drained change so completely that they are now willing to understand that your life is yours to live, don’t look back (nothing good will come of it).

All this might seem harsh this time of year, when so many are focusing on family interaction and such. But this is often the most difficult season for individuals who attend gatherings not because they want to, but because they are made to feel that they must be there… or else they are scum.

People who love you won’t throw you into situations that leave you needing months of therapy, at least not on purpose. And if they insist on pushing you, after you’ve told them that their persistence is killing you, then your wellbeing is probably not at the top of their list.

I must stress that relationships between people are too complex to fit in a box (or a post). But some things are simple, to me: anyone who beats you, emotionally or physically, does not love you. And if they tell you that they do, then the bullshit that fills their hearts has probably spread to their brains.

Well, my Luvs, I must get ready for another date with the gut doctor. Do share your thoughts on this issue. Your honest insight is appreciated. Read you soon. Write you always. Be good. Be you. Be. ❤️

toxic-peopleToxic people are damaged energy.
Prevent them.