Wednesday, 30 August 2017

What`s missing and what is here...

Reminding me both of what is missing and what still exists,

"It was shelter that had no roof, and sustenance that had no weight, and air that didn't need lungs for the breathing." 
~J.R. Ward, The Angel's Share


Aren't those good words?
 This series isn't my usual but how I have fallen for it, hard.

Monday, 14 August 2017

And time

One of us made a comment about wanting time.
Which of course translates to wanting sex...

Time is passing. Its getting to be...I'm getting to be achy.
At night.
Really achy.
Everywhere.
In all the places.
Super achy.

There I was with a pillow under my back. A pillow between my knees. A pillow under my hip. A pillow supporting my shoulder. My arm over a pillow. My hips, on a pillow.

And no, no, you can't move me because I just got somewhat comfortable.

So you know, if you are determined that we are having sex in this breath of time, then you're the one who is going to have to get real creative.

He did.

It was comical.

One of those old-sweater comfy moments because you know, there's no way in seven hells you would be attempting this with anyone you didn't feel that comfy with. Some part of me, liked that there is still that comfort. That we can still joke and laugh and navigate awkward moments seamlessly.

The friendship is still there. It still carries us through.
And sometimes, that's everything.

Yet...

Alongside with this being comical and comfy, there was a certain detachment to it.
 It was clinical.
He was determined.
He wasn't taking no for an answer.
He was using me.

And that felt damn good.

I still need to be used and useful.

I wish that would dawn on him more.....

So time, time is marching on.

Everything in the Hovel is irritating me.
I don't think anything will be ready.
My patience is so short.

I'm actually just kind of irritated at pretty much everything.

Time.
Time is slowing right down and coming to a stall.

Tuesday, 1 August 2017

the ebb



I was reading a draft of a WIP this morning and it brought memories to mind. 

It wasn't so long ago that, the control he had over me was so great and all consuming, that I didn't use the toilet without a clothespin on each nipple--and they were labelled, "left" and "right". 

It took years to build. Years of give and take and trust and feeding and tending and it seems like, it is all gone.
We are ghosts of what we were. 

So many say, that nothing changes their M/s status.
And maybe that is true in word. Because in word, he would still say that he owns me. 
And depending on the day, I would say the same, yes but depending on the day, there might be conditions attached to that....like, "what choice do I have?"
But it takes energy and time and focus to feed the kinks. 
It takes energy and take and focus to calibrate the relationship in the power dynamic. 
Our day starts at 7am, ends at 12am. 
He hasn't offered me anything in a long while.
He hasn't initiated anything.
And I've poked and prodded and asked for more. 

I go around somewhat insecure. 
At loose ends. 
I go around not feeling loved by him or cherished or assured in the connection that was once so pure and solid. 
But somehow, we are still here.
We still laugh. 
We ebb and flow...or he weathers my storms and I weather his withdrawn-ness and detachment. 

His focus is things outside the Hovel. 
Mine is the things inside. 
And we are just trying to keep all the spinning plates spinning. 
United in the goal of keeping the tiny humans alive. 

Maybe, that's just the stage of life we are in. 

But oh, how I miss it.
I miss the all consuming focus I gave him, all the space in my head that belonged to him. 
I miss the feeling of actively feeling owned and controlled by being his.
And I miss who we were. 

Just like I miss who I once was.