Cradle to Grave …

*** Warning: May be too mushy for some readers. ~soft smile~ And, it’s wordy to.

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i awoke in the middle of last night, or more precisely, it was near 3:AM – to a bed that felt as though it was suddenly so huge and empty, it felt as though it would swallow me whole. It truly felt that way. It was the feeling akin to what i imagine being lost-at-sea, at night, must feel like. Just that vast, black emptiness that stretches into a horizon that never ends, under the dark of the moon … into an infinity of nothing: Endless. The two points never intersect, they just go on and on and on, forever – into never.

i see it in my minds eye, as a R/R track, where i’m running between the rails; tripping on the rocks, the ties that aren’t level … the nine inch nails that have worked themselves out of their wooden graves … running harder, faster – trying to catch time. The ground blurs beneath me, and i begin to fall …

… with my arms outstretched, and reaching.

Last night, i ached. It was that sinking feeling one gets from a terrible, and utterly crushing loneliness.

It became too much.

With blanket and pillow in hand – resembling my six-year-old self – i stumbled my way through the dark, down the hallway and into the living-room; lit only by a single street-lamp, made more dim through the draperies. i crawled onto the love-seat, and curled into the fetal-position.

Anything less was too open; too vulnerable – too empty.

i covered my head and listened to my own breathing – listened to my heartbeat, as it calmed and finally slowed, while i silently cried it out … cradled in that small space of comfort, alone with my thoughts, and yes, even with my prayers.

Yes, i -do- pray … to -my- God.

Sometime later; much later … It felt like the crippling emptiness grew small enough to manage.

Then the walls started closing in …

~~~~~~

All i could think of was him.

HIM – meaning Love. I miss feeling, being – truly loved.

I do – contrary to my sometimes embittered, out-spoken, and very personal views on this subject matter. If you’ve read, even a few posts back, you’ve been witness to some of my more inverse moments, when dealing with the experience we call Love … And still, it is of no consequence. I -miss- loving; being loved, wanted, needed – being touched.

I miss many things …

I miss his arms around me, providing safety and a feeling of being protected. I miss him lying next to me; the warmth of his body pressing into mine – hugging me up. I miss spooning – A lot. I miss falling asleep with our bodies still joined, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I miss his warm breath against my neck, nudging and rooting, until he finds a comfortable place in which to bury his nose, finally resting; stilling. I miss falling into a comfortable, silent reverie, while listening to him breathe beside me, in a slow and steady rhythm – knowing gratitude. I miss the feel of his heartbeat against my shoulder, like being safe in the womb. I miss his hands, as he takes one of my wrists into his large hand, folding our arms into my chest … suspending me in his sanctuary. I miss hearing those words he’d whisper, before we’d drift separately; together. I miss his legs entwined with my own. I miss that little nibble on my shoulder. I miss my hair being gently stroked and petted. I miss his smell. I miss the deep, sensuousness of his sleepy voice. I miss his strength and gentility. I miss hearing your laughter. I miss kissing. I miss his protective nature and his subtle guidance. I miss his persistance. I miss his smile. I miss dreaming and making plans, for our future. I miss the taste of him. I miss your intellect. I miss the way you could talk me down; calming me. I even miss the tone in your voice, or that single -look- that warned me that I was pushing. I miss the warm, earthen smell of his skin. I miss the man. I miss the gentleman. I miss your sense of humor. I miss your stories. I miss your attentive ear and understanding. I miss your masculinity. I miss your compliments and your reassurances. I miss you singing to me. I miss your confidence. I miss your thoughtful silences, while watching whatever struggle you were dissecting. I miss the light in your eyes. I miss watching you as you are in thought; going places that sometimes you would only hint at. I miss your soft-spoken manner. I miss our conversations and laughing together at things that only you and i could, or would find humor in. I miss that. I miss your dark side. I miss the feel of your fingers on my skin; the way you would cradle my jaw in your hand, and lightly brush my lips with your thumb. I miss the kisses, nibbles and bites on my neck, my shoulders, my lip, my back, my bottom, nipples … inner thigh. I miss that spot between your clavicles that i am always drawn to – gently tracing circles, dipping my middle finger into the concave flesh – stroking you there, always. I miss your ’smile lines’. I miss the things you brought out in me. I miss you pushing me to be better. Oh, god help me … i miss your soul inside me. I miss tracing the bow of your lips. I miss feeling you inside of me. I miss reading to you. I miss your caresses. I miss your control. I miss you wanting me. I miss giving you full-body massages, complete with happy endings. I miss how you could just look at me, and know what i am thinking – often what i am feeling. I miss you caring enough to do that. I miss our walks. I miss you trying to make me jealous – sometimes succeeding; teasing me. I miss You -being- jealous – always; i was flattered: for somewhere in that place, it told me that you were afraid of losing me, and that spoke volumes. I miss our morning coffees. I miss you showering with me. I miss our evening talks. I miss our little battles. I miss you poking fun at me, when I took myself too seriously. I miss your clever titillations. I miss making love. I miss being tossed about, like i had suddenly become weightless, when i surprised, or startled you. I miss those arms (yes, again) – god, i miss that security. I miss your brutal honesty and fearlessness. I miss your character. I miss your willingness to surrender to my moods, with a wise and consistent coaxing – to snap out of it: I’m still here. I miss that kind of humble strength. I miss looking into your eyes, and the look you held there, only for me. I miss the colors you brought into my life. I miss your intensity. I miss your foreign tongues; telling me things only we two understood – which i am slowly forgetting with the passage of time. I don’t want to forget. I miss our little secrets. I miss our little games. I miss the way you could make my blood surge, into all those delicate and soft places. I miss that wicked little grin that said more than anyone else knew, or could understand. I miss sensing your gaze fall upon me, from across a room. I miss your wisdom and patience; your unconditional love. I miss touching your back when i’d pass behind you. I miss the way you’d slide your hands down my lower back, to my bottom, and give me a sharp slap. I miss how your eyes would narrow, and your pupils dilate afterward. I miss the way you’d lick your lips, and i’d moan, ever so knowingly. I miss licking your lips. I miss kissing the back of your neck, below your ear. I miss cooking for you. I miss making your drinks. I miss your acts of thoughtfulness and kindness. I miss how i’d miss you before you’d even gone. I miss being entrusted with your heart. I miss mine. I miss your sharp, beautifully defined features. I miss watching the ladies try to get your attention – oh, how they flirt. I miss you bathing me like a child. I do. I miss you washing my hair, and pulling my head back, forcing my face up, and being kissed tenderly, hungrily, and at times, ravenously and bestial. I miss watching you come; baring your teeth, before throwing your head back with a roar. Oh, god, i miss that so very much. I miss you lifting my hair up to your nose, and inhaling deeply – I miss that sound to. I remember those things. I miss dancing with you, alone – at home. I miss you telling me i was beautiful. I miss the way i felt when we were together. I miss taking care of you – it was never too much. I miss the way you could make me -feel- beautiful and strong. I miss the sexual energy. I miss desire, lust, and reaching for you, and finding comfort at simply touching you; being close to you. I miss passion. I miss you being here, there … anywhere.

I miss my lover; my friend.

I miss who i was with you.

And who we became, Together.

Memories cannot replace the man.

I miss … i miss …

… i miss …

YOU:

LOVE.

~~~~~~

Somebody Already Broke My Heart

~ by osmosisofaffliction on November 5, 2009.