This poem is inspired in part by the #MissMuseMe post from Twitter.
Under your skin,
just below the surface,
where you hide your disdain
It twinkles at the corners of
when you say my name,
as if the
mere utterance of that combination
of vowels and consonants
above the chasm
where you hide
allowing the love
to trickle up,
reverse raindrops of
that water your smile,
still only a smirk
but wholly genuine.
Though the words have been
a barrage of sarcasm,
know that it is ever so evident
what you mean to say,
I love you, too.
One of the things that is important about romance, whether in real life or in fictional works, is the need to feel wanted and to feel worthy of being wanted. Something came up with a conversation with a friend last night, where he started to tell me that eventually I might be confident enough to see myself as worthy. It upset me a great deal, and I immediately jumped down his throat and told him not to lecture me.
It took me all night and into this morning (in the shower) to realize what it was I was really angry about.
Night before last was our weekly Twitter Chat, or as I like to think of it, our virtual tea party: #JustAddTea. We talked about Summer Romances, mostly about fictional situations. You know, the “what ifs” and what “would you wants” of Summer Romances.
As always, we begin with a brief intro, and what dessert would you share with a lover, though in our chat it became quickly obvious that this was not a group of people willing to share their desserts! Continue reading
A couple years ago I tried to very briefly discuss what was the cause of the Summer Romance. I talked about the skimpiness of the clothing, and the historical traditions of the Spring/Summer festivals in the Pagan traditions. I was trying to rationalize something that may not be able to be rationalized.
We really like our Summer Romances!
Whether it’s the weather or not, I have noticed my libido is ramped up a bit. And by “a bit,” I mean a ton! This is either really good for the Pirate or really bad for me. Only time will tell on that front. Keep your fingers crossed for me because I really like him! Continue reading
I keep trying to tell people that I am capable of admitting when I’m wrong. Here’s me doing that. After having listened to Beyonce’s Lemonade about 3 more times, and having watched it at least 2 more times, I think I have to admit there is some benefit to it.
Do I think it is, as one author put it, a “masterpiece?”
No. For one thing, I still can’t get past how in “Don’t Hurt Yourself” she has that line that says “Who the f*ck do you think I is?”
But I can agree that it is opening the door to a really important discussion: Men’s infidelity.