Sensing
New musk.
Accustomed to something less or more or sweeter or heavy… This and that tossed around and I’m blind to the meaning of you in my life. The feeling is grey fog and sweet quiet wondering. Want grafted painfully to restraint. I’m willing not to know, but still struggle behind my eyes, wiggle in my seat, calm the urge to spring towards your body, a rabid animal. You watch my watching and take it personally a little bit. Uncomfortable shifting around. My mind wanders to things that entertain…
I want to taste the shape of your smell, round and spicy, red wine dripping down my esophagus staining the space behind my breastbone, and wetting everything on the way to center.
I am sense-drunk. These moments are relaxing and relaxing is something I don’t trust. But I’m resolved; I won’t wrestle you. I want to bask. Slip your skin over mine like bike leathers for warmth. safety. pleasure. Your value in skins: Connection.
Hair prickling, cunt throbbing, gut satisfying, emotion stoking, heat generating, connection…
And sitting with myself is the prize at the end of the day.
And it is the pain of umbilical cord sliced through.
Connection. Together. Alone.
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I was briefly involved with someone once who was in a “don’t ask, don’t tell” relationship. Normally this type of thing doesn’t fly with me, I’m the type who wants to meet your primary partner and maybe even other partners before jumping into bed or complicated emotional unfoldings. But this situation was different… When we met there was an instant connection and my playmate told me the story of his very long term relationship, and how they had come to decide that a don’t ask don’t tell arrangement was best for everyone involved. I trusted the story and connected with this person over a period of a few months sporadically.
It was fun for a while. But over time it grew sour, on my end mostly I believe. Thing is, I think that because this person didn’t really practice open communication at home, there was no precedent for open communication to be a part of any relationship they were having… And it turns out that doesn’t work for me.
Time passed and we fell off with one another. I still appreciate the time we had together while it was good, but my lesson is learned in this arena: I want people practiced in the art of negotiation and communication in my bed (and shower and hotel floor). We have a longer shelf life and it’s filled with more variety, less angst, and though we’re always autonomous people choosing one another at the end of the day, I like to know that my choices can tell me all of what’s on their minds. I want to know these things because they value me, and because they value the telling.
To Breath and Being,
~ Karin
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~Thank you.
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