Blog in Review Best of 2014 #5 Inseparable

She could feel him all the time now.  She would catch a certain scent in the air and anxiety would rise in her belly. The whisper of a voice in the back of her mind. She closed her eyes, because she could almost feel breath tickle her ear. She inhaled deeply knowing this was the only way to manage it when they were connected like this. She opened her right hand in front of her staring at the lines and veins.  Warmth glided across the surface ever so lightly.  A fleeting thing feeling as it touched, touching as she felt. The sensation went up her arm, soaked her shoulder, then spread like wine staining carpet over her chest. She sighed in the feeling as her body was slowly being eaten away by his essence his aura. It warmed more in random spots like tiny starburst across her skin.  Tiny eruptions of warm sensations exploded softly all over. He called it sprinkle kisses.

The connection had always been there and visceral. It was like a train station that no one used. The tracks had been laid long ago.  When they first met it was pain.  It had dropped her to her knees the first time it poured through her. She had felt the sharp instant cut, the initial numbness and then she had nearly in slow motion dropped to her knees as the numbness faded for a dull aching that had no source yet could not be appeased. She had gasped loudly as if she had been hit in the stomach.  The sound of the gasp nearly lost in the sudden and hard release of air. She covered her heart with both hands as tears built in her eyes.  She stared dumbfounded to the heavens as they streaked brilliant salty trails down her cheeks. She vaguely felt them streaming down her neck to her chest.  Her skin dried some, her sweater caught the rest. She had stayed there for an eternity it seemed.  Nailed to her living room floor in pain, she had fallen to her back, eyes wide, tears streaming, mouth agape. The pain was acute, sustained.  Her first thought was his name and the pain doubled. This was a soul deep hurt that had survived and fed itself with his passions, ate his shattered dreams and drank of his broken heart. It fueled his nightmares, ignited his pessimism, and nurtured the hearth of his rage.

As she lay there unable to move, barely able to stand the pulsing burning fire that was both pain and rage she understood what true intimacy was.  It wasn't sexual at all, it was emotional.  It was living with someone else's pain inside you.  Bound to you in the core of your own soul. No closer mating could ever be attained. She wept as his despair raced through her.  Somehow she had always thought hopelessness was a passive emotion.  How utterly unrelentingly foolishly wrong she had been.  She saw now that hopelessness was a tidal wave. A raging ocean always building to overtake you. He was at war with it constantly. She was not fit for the fight.  For a moment she surrendered to it.  She let her mind drift into the darkness that only soul shattering pain could produce. She felt herself sinking through the carpet, through the floor, through the layers of dimensions that separated them.  She had retreated from this plane and was in a space she had never seen before.

The space was dark, wet and cold.  She was surrounded by walls. Black dirty walls, the ceiling was too high.  Several stories over her head it loomed.  The smell was lacking in life.  Despite the moisture it seemed nothing could live in this space.  The walls and the floor seamlessly bent from one to the other.  She walked gingerly down the hallway.  It had to be, it was no bigger than 4 feet wide. She passed a mirror and stopped to observe herself. She was bathed in light, and that was all. Her dusky skin nearly glowed with an iridescent pearl gleam that was blue and purple. Her eyes glittered as if set alive by flames. Her hair a curly long orange red mane that drifted to some space right past her ass.

Startled she stepped forward to touch the mirror.  Lightly she placed her fingers right above where her heart would in the image. She heard the tinkling of glass.  The mirror contracted at her touch, seemed to take a deep quick breath then shattered.  Instinctively she covered her face waiting for the additional pain of the cutting glass.  Instead she felt a fine mist.  She dropped her arms and stared at them as the dust left red and gold speckles on her skin, fine and iridescent. She glanced up quickly at the spot the mirror came from and she saw a door.

The door wasn't like anything else in the hallway. It was carved wood, deep brown with hints of red. On it was a tower.  It was long and tall, a perfect cylinder of brick and mortar rising from the middle of the ocean it seemed. The top of the tower had a lookout much like a lighthouse. In the window there was the clear figure of a young boy staring out. Dragons circled overhead their tails blending as they formed a ring around the top of the tower. Snakes slithered from the water inching up the base of the tower. The ocean raged and crashed beneath them. The scene was framed with thorny vines braided outside of the main image.

That's when she noticed the door had no knob.  She walked up to it and traced a wave.  The wood was cool and smooth to the touch. She traced up to a snake to the tower and continued to inch upward. She touched the face of the boy briefly on the cheek. She couldn't tell if the door had whelped or if she had.  The touch had spiked the pain for a second forcing the sound. Instinct only made her lean in closer and press her lips to the boy's forehead. Her closed eyes didn't see what happened because in the next moment she was kissing air.

It was a small room before her. Just a rustic setting. A lovely rug on the wooden floor, a fireplace in the corner lit and blazing.  A comfortable chair with armrests and a high back with velvet red coverings. The fact that there were no windows and the walls were bare was a bit odd.  However it was not nearly as odd as seeing him kneeling in front of the chair putting makeup on what was clearly a dead woman. Her skin was blue. The unnatural hue of someone who has long passed. Her hair was a grey stringy mop falling to her threadbare shoulders.  The white gown was dingy with bits of makeup mistakenly dropped on spots. Her lifeless form stared with eyes dark cold and dead. The hallows of her skull were apparent in her cheeks and mouth.  She was propped in the chair with her arms on the rests and her legs pulled closed, feet planted, makeup in her lap.

He would place makeup on a spot on her face that made her look flesh colored. As he would move on to another area the makeup would slowly disappear. He would notice when the spot he was working on was done and then go back to reapply. She slowly walked over to where he fussed and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"She's not gone you know." he whispered in a well-rehearsed way. "Any minute now she'll be back and this time she'll love me."

She didn't say anything. She knew what this was and she knew who she was. She took has hand away from her face.  She was surprised that he offered no resistance.  She removed the make up sponge from his hand and placed it in the lap of the woman where the rest was. He just stared at the face of the woman as she went blue. In a matter of moments she faded to gray and then dissolved into ash.

The low keening moan that came from him managed to come through her as well as they watched this happen. He sat back on the floor.  She knelt beside him and pulled his head against her chest. She sifted her fingers through his short brown hair enjoying the solid feel of him. He was cold though. Her other hand soothingly rubbed the back of his neck. He let her hold him as he tried to quiet the storm within him. She closed her eyes and held him closer.  She took slow deep breaths and focused herself. When she inhaled she focused on his pain, when she exhaled she focused on soothing. It didn't take long before they were breathing together and the pain storm was subsiding. Slowly his arms crept up and wrapped around her waist.

She jolted up and was in her living room again. As long as she lived she would never forget that day.  That had been the beginning of their unique odyssey.

Blog in Review the Rundown

So I'm starting something new in case you haven't noticed. Its a year in review. I wanted to find the posts that got the most views and garnered the most attention.  Here they are the top 5:

# 5 Inseparable
Her first thought was his name and the pain doubled. This was a soul deep hurt that had survived and fed itself with his passions, ate his shattered dreams and drank of his broken heart. It fueled his nightmares, ignited his pessimism, and nurtured the hearth of his rage.. . 

#4 Unconditional Love, or What We Really Mean
So back to my new year's resolution. I told myself I was no longer going to stifle how I feel about anyone.  I in fact practiced this by sending very personal very gushing messages of love to my closest pals who in some way inspire me by doing nothing more than being who they are. The results were as I expected.  I got back some gushing replies and silence.  I knew who would do what. The gushers are just what they say they are.  The none gushers, the silent, were whelmed. You see all of these people feel as deeply as I do and I know what such a message would've done to me. I would've gushed back but first I would've needed to be silent.  And sometimes when you're silent you just are because "Wow look its a unicorn, how cool is that." Bask in the moment.

#3 Manpaper: The Originals
Now this latest version of manpaper is by no means all there is. Below are the originators.

#2 9 Days - A Novella of Mythic Proportions
But the very interesting thing is that underworld activities were shrouded. There have never been many tales of who Hades actually is. Yet the method of how he acquired his wife and subsequent equal queen of the Underworld is one of the most prolific stories surrounding what I believe is the often very misunderstood lord of needful things such as death and the dead.

Thus 9 days.

Think of 9 days as the mythological version of 9 and a half weeks. A sheltered lovely child, a lord of darkness and the unveiling of who they both truly are.

#1 Missing Love Stories
As a dark woman I've always taken those images with a grain of salt as I much preferred getting lost in a book as opposed to an unrealistic impersonation of who I was supposed to be. The irony is that you tell yourself it’s not that bad. You actually try to accept some of it as truth because the alternative is too much to bear, which is the evidence of others denying you and those like you the very basic staples of humanity.

I was Persephone this past Halloween

Well that has been my year and I hope to have more lovely profound flights of fancy and stunning realizations and always. . keep writing.

Have a LOVEly year,

Always w/love,
Sue

Opened Doors

"Don't you remember you told me you loved me baby."  

She hummed softly to the melody as the song blazed through the room.  Always she kept the stereo just too loud.  When it was just too loud, it drowned out all else. Even thought.  "Said you'd be coming' . . . But this song, reminded her of everything.

Like everyone else, she had heard the stories about the groupies, the women who follow and chase bands and celebrities.  She hadn't been one of those women.  She stretched her back at an awkward angle and continued the task of washing dishes in the sink that was never big enough.  In the kitchen that left her wanting for more, in the house that seemed to never hold enough space to be comfortable.  She stayed because it was hers, and no one else's.

"Baby, baby, ohhh, baby, I love you."

The floral skirt she was wearing dusted the floor, leaving only a sliver of her naked foot barren before toying with the hard tile.  As she swayed to the music it danced with her, gilding her moves like an echo, ruffling the air trying to remain still around.  The black tank she wore was nearly threadbare from repeated washings.  One of those items of clothing she would wear till it fell from her form.  As most of her clothes were.  

The tears came quickly, as they always did, not unexpected, they never were unexpected.  Most days saw at least one outburst of misery from her soul as it cried out the unfair fate that was forcing her to be so very strong.

The heartbreak wasn't a normal one.  She didn't cry from bitterness of being abandoned.  She cried for having tasted just enough joy to make her long for it for the rest of her life. He hadn't lied, never made one false promise.  So the song actually didn't fit her situation.  But it made it all the worse in truth. He hadn't cared enough to tell her pretty lies.  So unimportant to what he desired in the grand scheme of things she had been that he hadn't bothered to tell her anything.  Not a hello, not a goodbye.  No baby this, baby that, one day soons, or when I come back. Not a don't wait for me, we end here, this was a mistake, or never agains.

For six days and seven nights he had filled her with all that he was.  For three of those nights, she had held onto herself, the fourth she pretended that she was still whole, on the fifth she had stopped lying, and the sixth and seventh opened up another door.

As she discovered the real problem with opened doors wasn't in getting them open.  That had been almost too easy.  It was the closing that proved to give the fit.  Silly waitress in a bar was all she had been.  A foolish girl that had no idea of who he was.  No man had ever made her  . . .feel.  That was who he had become.  Nothing more, nothing less.  

More than just touch, words, expressions, the color of his eyes, the length of his hair.  She knew where he was in the room at all times, as he did with her.  The melting promise of joy would hum through her when she knew he was near.  Damn that opened door.

"Long ago. . ."

She didn't count how much time had passed in years, they seemed insufficient when the number was tallied. Instead she felt his absence in moments.  As the sun slid to rest.  Heavy footsteps approaching. The feel of freshly washed sheets.  Morning dew falling from leaves onto her skin.  Phrases that matched his cadence. Catching musky scents in the air.  Accidental contact with a stranger.  Fresh strawberries against her lips.  And songs bemoaning loving an entertainer.

What he had left was possibility without hope.  She didn't wonder if he would come for her, never dared dream that he still even thought of her.  He ruled her waking thoughts and dreaming nights. Soon it became insanity to pretend that this wasn't the case. She knew that this door in her was wide open now and oh so hard to fill.  A few brave had tried, only to be told, "That damned door only seems to be the right size for one man."

". . . .I thought it was you, it was only the radio."

The dishes were done, the kitchen finally clean.  The baby was sound asleep and the song filled the space.  She turned and held up her arms as if holding onto a partner.  With great confidence she began to move slowly to the soft strings of the song playing. Gazing upward fondly she smiled, sweetly, softly beautifully.  "I love being in your arms", she whispered to the sound pulsing air around her.

Happy Valentine's Day

Single male looking for the right lady . . .click. I know how to show a lady a good time . . . click. Looking for a sweet down to earth girl. . . .click. Look no further I’m . . .click. Nice guy with a . . . .click. Looking for . . . click. All you need. . . .click. Take a look. . . .click. I am all . . . click. I need. . .click. I want . . . click. I desire. . . click I. . . click. I. . .click. I. . . .click.

“Shut up!!!” she finally yelled at the screen blinking back at her. With a sense of growing despair she threw her head into her hands. “There is nothing attractive about beginning with what you want.” Now empowered by rage, and not caring who knew it, she penned the online ad that she would like to read.

Opening line, she thought to herself, and then her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Just in case. . .”

Body : “You are tired of every other ad talking about what the man wants. . . I’m going to ask . . .what do you want?

“Let’s be honest. Who cares if I have a six pack, am dashingly good looking in that soap opera way? Who cares if I have a well paying job and a car, house, boat, insert whatever random possessions here that make you feel good? Who cares if I like walks in the rain, snuggling with the right girl? Who cares if I always root for the underdog and stand up for my female friends? Who cares if I fall in love quickly, passionately, deeply, and won’t be shy about admitting it? Who cares that when I am in that state all I see is how beautiful you are? And who cares that I fell for you for who you are, and not what I think you can do for me, my reputation or my appearance? And who cares that this means that no matter what, I will always love you?

I don’t, because it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans if you aren’t there to show me the depth of you. I don’t, if you aren’t around to show me what I am capable of. I don’t, if your strength isn’t there to push me. If your femininity isn’t there to make me desire to be more. Challenging me with every vibrant breath you take, every passionate declaration and naïve expectation. I don’t, if your eyes aren’t on me loving me because of me, despite me. What on earth does my opinion of myself matter if I am the only one that believes it? I know self-esteem is necessary, but how can you find who would stand beside you, outside of you, if you never look outside of yourself?

I’m sorry that we’ve missed the point for so long now. Always wondering what to give, what present, what thought, what trinket or comment to temporarily sedate you into staying. When all this time all you have ever wanted is all of who we are. Good or bad, whether for this moment or always. As much as we are willing to give. And foolishly, without fail, we meet the one woman we can give all to and run away before memories can even be made. Forgive our weakness and accept this one man upon the alter of your mercy. For I will sacrifice all of who I am to one woman for the sake of us all.”

She took a long deep breath and reread her words. Once, twice. . . a few times more and imagined what this man would look like. Then she knew that it didn’t matter. This creature was a creation, merely an artifice of her own vivid imagination. Something that she would have to let go of if she ever wanted to allow an actual man in her life. She knew what men were. Not a one of them could reproduce what she had just penned.

With a sigh she headed back to the dating ads and realized that while she had been writing her own ad, someone had tried to contact her. The title of the message was, “In case you were wondering.” She blinked hard at the screen and clicked it open.

“I didn’t write you to tell you how much your profile sounds like everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m writing you to say that I haven’t ever specified or even known what I’ve wanted in a woman. I just know that if I ever had, it would most likely be you. Whoever it is I find on the other end of those words. In just a conversation, I might give all of me to all of you. What a tragically odd realization to have about a stranger.”

Tears pricked her eyes as she read the message. She clicked respond and typed. “Not exactly right, but close enough that I’m listening.”

With a sense of wonder, a hair of disbelief and an inkling that the Almighty was trying to teach her a lesson she was still stubborn about learning, she clicked send.

Of Love and Madness

It wasn't desperation, couldn't be desperation that makes me act.

It wasn't confusion, couldn't be confusion that makes me wait.

It wasn't masochism, couldn't be masochism that makes me hold on.

The thoughts swirl and mix.  Chemistry of the brain the scientists will call it.  This gland secretes this fluid, and the reaction is love.  This gland releases this hormone, and the change is lust. This enzyme is allowed to run free in your brain, and it manufactures hate. So very simple is it, in the end the things that power a being to move.  So very simple.

Your brain sends this signal, and your heart rate speeds up.  Your synapses process this change, and respond to make your sweat glands react. This reaction takes away from another, and your mouth goes dry.  This dryness triggers a response that dilates your eyes. The process for fear takes movement from your limbs.  The fluid secreted to minimize your movement and maximize your senses. Your senses expand making everything clearer.  Sense of taste, smell, sensation, hearing, even sight to tell the brain how next to respond.  What fluid to secrete. What enzyme to release. What sense to expand. What action to take next.  It's all a biological process that is easy to explain.  Why you feel the way you do.

Why do I feel the way that I do?  What process triggers that? What fluid is released and secreted? What change has happened to cause this to occur? Where did this start?  Not from a thought, not from a moment, no stimulation on my part.  It was the other one that started this.  What did they do to inject such intensity. Why with a look can the world shift on its axis? 

The science explains nothing. Instead just confirms my madness. It's incomplete this definition. Without a proper point of entry.  The big bang theory on love. It just happened without an impetus without a cause. There has to be another place, another wall; a path we haven't seen.  There has to be another channel another space that we can't perceive.

It wasn't desperation, couldn't be desperation

It wasn't confusion, couldn't be confusion

It wasn't masochism, couldn't be masochism

Does the oxygen in the air thin when they arrive?  The levels of carbon dioxide become greater, and takes away from the air quality. Maybe they exude a pheromone that causes my tongue to swell. Perhaps they have altered my gravity setting off an unerring chain reaction in my head; the brain seeks to protect itself from the heightened levels. Too much iron in their blood causing a magnetic response. Water, of course, they have lower or higher levels of water in their system. The hydrogen makes me light headed. It is a volatile element always on the brink of exploding.

Nonsense, foolish tripe, driveling nonsense. The elements don’t react that way.  The human form is not only a body.  It is a body, connected to a controlling conscious mind driven by an unseeable unphantomable force called a spirit. I would reason that while the body is ruled by the mind, and the mind has made itself a slave to reason, this spirit knows nothing of logic.  Logic this construct of man to give reason focus, and to relegate emotion to fantasy.  Something to sometimes indulge, but never take too seriously.  After all it bears no true weight and meaning.  And yet it explains all else that logic can't.

It wasn't desperation

It wasn't confusion

It wasn't masochism

I must call it madness. That's what any sensible human being calls it when it doesn't have a logical explanation.  Only that which is logical is sane.  Correct. . It wasn't...  Correct, logic is the only true answer.  In logic is reason, and reason has justification, reason has . . .  It wasn't . . . has the essence of life.  We have created so much on the back of reason. . .It wasn't ..love is just this fanciful idea. It's a theoretical theological myth. . . It wasn't . . . love doesn't happen this way in an instant.  It is cultivated over time, between two people with a wealth of common goals and interests and they. . . It wasn't  . . love each other because it's practical and beneficial.  That thing was just a chemical response, physiology and such . . . it wasn't. . .love.  It wasn't love, how could it be love. How could it be love?

How could it be anything but love?

Oh Impossible Love

"Did I hear you right?" I glanced up at him at the question. 

Did I hear you right, he asks.  As I stare into eyes the color of which I could not phantom; the depth of which I wouldn't dare to describe.  Did he hear me right he wants to know?  And I openly wonder what does he think he heard.

I'm told when other people are in the presence of two people in the middle of an untenable connection a few things happen.  The moment seems oddly long, and you find yourself wondering why they are just standing there staring at each other.  There is a distinct sound in the air that resembles a bell, and of course the room sizzles with the intensity of it.

Well from the other end something else happens.  Absolutely nothing except quiet, peace and the lack of coherent thought. The closest to heaven any mortal being can ever be. Sweet, sweet oblivion.  Because in a moment that lasts an eternity yet is as brief as a breath, an entire lifetime is lived.  And not a single moment is voiced in a word. It's softer, simpler, and doesn't even require a thought.  Instead it is an action; straightforward, and vivid.  So startling that it knocks the mind on its ear.  So intense it suspends time and space.  So intrusive it halts involuntary bodily functions. Because what has happened is beyond human comprehension.  It is the unbound, uncontrollable essence of love itself, and cannot be conceived by the rudimentary senses of a mere mortal.  Wielded by she who is beyond a goddess, Fate herself, with an unthinking blink of her elusive eyes.  For a second, that I'm sure I imagined, I see the flash of them in his.

What a taunting evil thing it is.  The mere faint whisper of what can truly never be. She weaves this wicked thing that is beyond man and beyond this place letting hapless mortals catch a glimpse of its grace, its majesty.  Just enough to want it. Just enough to know it exists. Enabling the knowing. Enabling each and every man, woman, and child going to their graves never even knowing the slightest taste of what she ordains and wills into their lives with nothing more than a fleeting glance.

"Did you hear me right?" He cautiously amends at my lack of response.

If I close my eyes I can hear her laughter, because while we can't understand her words, she will always endear us the pleasure of her amusement. Why else would she bring such a thing as instant kismet into being?  It must be for the amusement of herself and her court. For all it does is plague mankind leaving us wanting and wishing to be all that we can never be. For love is faith, and faith gives rise to hope, and in hope man can do all.

Accept for this moment.  This instance of reality that is beyond our thought, beyond our comprehension, beyond our ability to recreate. It is her domain and her domain alone.  And she hoards her power selfishly knowing what arrogance would befall man were he able to manufacture what is so simple for her to induce. This miracle that has restructured worlds.  This transplendent point that has reshaped destiny. It seems so carelessly wrought, but how else should such a force be managed?

I look into his eyes and whisper without my voice, a couple of words. Said before in the breath, the eternity, the blink, the lifetime, the instant we touched. My Love.

He smiles down at me returning the acknowledgement, "That's what I thought you said."