air
you are a breath, fresh of it

blast
make me laugh

breeze
keep it easy

cyclone
hasty hurtful words
followed by
gales
of forgiveness

gust
oh!

blow
in my ear again

breath
taken away with a kiss

chinook
summer breeze
makes me feel fine

draft
make me shiver

flurry
my insides 

flutter
my heart

mistral
we're rarely that cool
toward each other
unless (see: cyclone)

puff
the magic dragon

tempest
stormy passion

typhoon
come into the eye my darling

wafting
scent of love

whiff
when we blow it

whirlwind
us.
by definition.

whisk
me away

zephyr 
gentle me again

This is, in so many words, 
The rarefied air 
we are privileged to breathe

Deep draughts of love.
Between you and me.

Breathe with me.
My beloved.

Breathe.

I brought him more than a book
more than words on a page
I brought him
My heart story

An epic series

I brought him the stories of my life
Before, up to, and including him
And he read it all
Each volume
Understanding and translating clearly

The tragedies
the comedies
the sheer terror and beauty of it all

And in the romance section
Our saga
He read of my
Deep and abiding attraction
Ease of being with him
My devotion to caring for his heart
This soulmate connection
Written so clearly
And dearly
Indelibly inked love
On the pages of my heart

Wait for me.

I will make it worth your while.

I dream of you

Your face lit with the afternoon sun

Coming into my arms

Smelling of freshness and wonder

To hold your hair in my hands
To taste your lips once again

Wait for me.

My darling.

Please.
Wait.

believe these words
of devotion

when you kissed me last night
I came alive

that was some amazing
mouth-to-mouth resuscitation

You ask me why I eat my feelings?

Simple.

Food comforts me.
It doesn't beat me.

It doesn't mock me for crying.
Doesn't betray me.

It puts on fat to protect me.

From fists.
Belts.
Sharp
Words.
Past.
Present.
Future.

If I look like I lack discipline.

You misunderstand.

Discipline was never safe.
Never safe.
For me.

So I eat my feelings.
Of un-safe-ty.
Never close to
satiating
the hunger for love
inside of me.

When I was young
My ****** energy
Went out
To seek those
Whose lesson taught me more about contrast than equanimity

Now that I am older
I see these young studs with  their pickup lines and I say
"Hey look at me,  I am ready for love."

But I am old now.
They are young.
They can't see in me
Who I am.

So I offer love.
And the ones that come
They are often broken like me.

But that's ok.

Those young guns
They will soon find out
That time waits for no one
And all our smooth moves when we're young
Don't hold up under the blistering sun of reality
That ages your face and your body.
Just so.
So you feel unattractive.
Unseen.
Unwanted.
And begin to believe it.

I am vulnerable in this place.
Between the ages of
Unwanted
And
Un-needed.

If my value was only in procreation
Then I am priceless
I created his legacy
And left with mine

Unwanted
Un-needed.

It is no wonder our ****** energy wanes as we get older.

No!
Not mine.
You can't take the one place I feel young.
Or the place I feel free.

Age.
You cannot take this passion from me.
Now that I have found it,
I won't let it go.

Passion
Timeless
This is what we seek

To be young again
To seek what was
in the face of what is

It is all energy.

******
Physical
Healing

It starts when we are young and continues til we die...this thread of life.

What will we do with it?
Create?
Hate?
Liberate?

****** Energy
Yep.
It's a thing.

It is for creation.
Manifestation.
Positive works.

Or didn't they teach you that in parochial school?

Of course not.

That is against the rules.

He wants me
He says.

Don't they all?

I am tired of being wanted.
I am tired of being needed.

You have yourself a passel of kids
Out your own wahoo --
You wouldn't want to be wanted neither.

Don't want me.
Don't need me.

Bring me flowers and roses
And mix tapes
And doughnuts
On Sunday morning.

Kiss me.
Sweep me up in your arms.
Look me in the eyes.

That would send me.

Bring me.
Send me.

Don't want me.
Don't need me.

The want and the need make me tired.
The bring and the send makes me free!

But.
Maybe.

He, too, is tired of being wanted and needed.

Well.
Then.
What are we to do?

Want and need one another?

No.
Too many competing demands.

Take my hand.
Please.
Just tell me you love me.

Don't want me.

Don't need me.

Just love me.

And I will just love you.

I will fight for you
I will write for you
sing my song
for you
for you
I will sing my songs of healing,
sing my songs
revealing
my true love...

I will write for you
I will fight for you
In my heart
in my arms
you belong.

I have a right to you.
From several lifetimes through
to this one where we met, and love began

Again.

I will write for you.
Will you write me too?
Will you use the same words now as you did then?

Will you fight for me, as I fight for you?
Fight to hold onto the joy we share.

Rest now, my love.
My darling, my dove.
Aphrodite has nothing on you.

Rest your head, my weary prince.
Let me take off my dress.
And hold our hearts together until we melt.