Wednesday, January 5, 2011
When we are whispering in low tones
my lover and and I
and the world has faded
spinning the way the world just does
and close to me are his sweet bones
I am compelled to kiss him
take him in my mouth
and kiss him some more
as Shelley's waves crash the shore
That's what lovers do
hours spent kissing
wanting that time to be connected
to his lips
to fall into him
to steal the breath from his lovely mouth
to taste him to smell him like summer
because he smells like summer
for my lips to know the respite of his
those soft lips that speak all day
a thousand words,
that hum in the shower
it is his mouth after all to do as he pleases
until he's a foot away
and then those lips are mine
That's the promise of lovers
to steal a kiss at any moment
to lean in and just expect their comfort
that lovely wetness
the sweet curve of passion's embrace
letting me love you the way I like to love you
the way I need to love
and in that moment you see
do you see?
that I am free
You pull me to the lofty place
where time moves quickly
where your shoulder is an anchor
and my heart lives in your pocket
where there are noises outside the door
we dare not open
"Can you stay for just a few more minutes?"
I will ask of him as I often do
how could one deny such a request?
and when he presses his lips to mine
his whisper speaks of "will this do?"
We have approached the season of kissing, the season the bossy republican calls, "Carrie's favorite thing." He will tease me that this holiday is like Christmas, my birthday and the fourth of July all rolled into one. It is the holiday of the romantic notions that float around in my head and land usually somewhere interesting. I had a greeting card business once and Best Friend and I would spend endless hours making Valentines, covered in glitter, listening to Carly Simon songs.
I don't think I will ever tire of my fascination with little hearts cut from paper that are made to look like lace, or the idea that someone would save a Valentine forever and ever and yes, ever. I know I have been in love for awhile now and I still get caught in it's romantic trappings, i.e. forever thine, forever mine, forever ours. How could anyone not fall in love with someone who wrote that to them?
" Good morning, on July 7
Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us - I can live only wholly with you or not at all - Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits - Yes, unhappily it must be so - You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never - Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves. And yet my life in V is now a wretched life - Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men - At my age I need a steady, quiet life - can that be so in our connection? My angel, I have just been told that the mailcoach goes every day - therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once - Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together - Be calm - love me - today - yesterday - what tearful longings for you - you - you - my life - my all - farewell. Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.
You see Beethoven didn't just write great music, he wrote of love. He wrote three love letters similar all during a three day stretch and never indicated who they were written for. Lovers share such secrets in quiet whispers when they are sure they are alone. I know I do. I am planning a Valentine or two, are you?