Pulling the Trigger on Love

Even though I am tired of writing about love, Love is obviously not tired of me. I have a story I’ve been working on for several months where Death is personified. In my real life, sometimes, I feel like Love is a person who is chasing me and saying, “Don’t give up on me.”

Possibly, it is because of my experience this evening with one of my neighbors, a married man. He has been flirting rather aggressively lately. Well, as aggressively as a married man can. And today, he came right out and let me know he was physically attracted to me. As he was talking, I thought about Death in my story. And the scene that deals with people and the “masks” they wear, how we show people the face we want them to see.

My rambling wonderings became utterly fascinated with this mask-wearing. How do we get people to pull off their masks and show us their true selves? And how does this affect love? (Every time I think I am finished with that story, something comes and taps me on the shoulders and lets me know there is still work to do.) That is part of what makes love so complicated, that people wear masks. Love is a powerful emotion, and like handguns, it is sometimes often misused to help people obtain their selfish goals.

Tonight before I went to sleep, I kept thinking about the lines of a poem I composed recently. Then when I went to sleep, the poem was there. In my dreams. And, now, here I am at three in the morning, again, thinking about this poem. So, I got up to work on the lines. I have two other poems brewing in my mind, but this one just refuses to let go. It’s part of a project I plan to publish in the near future, a book of love poems.

Here I pull the trigger and allow love to speak:

I love the way
your words caress me,
touch me in places others
never knew existed.

I love the way
I can hold you while you
hold me and it’s impossible
to tell where I end and
you begin.

I love the way
my thoughts flow
into the river of your
feelings and the wind
doesn’t have to blow to
reverse the flow, sending
your thoughts coursing into my river.

I love the way
we can be friend and
lover to one another -whatever
we need to be. Cuz our love
fashions the way we are
with each other- we uncover
own masks, love’s exposure.

I love the way
the releasing of you
fills me up, keeps me from
feeling empty. Except when
you are away from me.

I love the way
me without you seems an
impossible reality as long as
my memory bank is full. Cuz
ours is a love to never be
forgotten.

I love the way
you love me and I
love you. I love how
there’s no pretense and
no defense against a love
so true.

There, in a violent encounter, I used a gun and forced Love to un-mask himself. Now, maybe, I can get a couple more hours of sleep. Of course, that’s all up to my Muse. And she doesn’t have to use a gun to keep me awake. I’m always open for her.

Peace & Love,

Rosalind

 

 

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About Rosalind Guy

I'm broken & my soul is weary/ my weary soul rebels, fights/ anything & anyone who tries to heal me/I beat my head against a wall of memories/ trying hard to break free from the chain of memories/ I can only be free by saying it so/ i weave a necklace from words and finally/ I find freedom/ free free free. As you can see, words are powerful to me. As Maya Angelou said, words are wallpaper of the soul. I have lots of nightmarish memories that threaten to break me, but I learned a long time ago about the power of words. They can be used to heal and destroy anything that threatens to destroy the person. Words coupled with love have the power to save and heal. I am author of three books: Skinny Dipping in the Pool of Womanhood, Tattered Butterfly Wings, and Blues of a Love Junkie. I am a high school English teacher. I am a former reporter. I am a mother. I am a woman. I am a fierce advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves, those who's voices go unheard. Check out my Amazon author page at the following link: http://www.amazon.com/Rosalind-Guy/e/B00BGH5F88/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1432491754&sr=8-1.
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