His Hero

Little man,

a sweet smile

inside a beautiful

mind,

drawn by the

quiet love

of his personal

hero.

 

She would go

to the ends of the world

to find inspiration,

keep honing

the sparkle,

sweet glint in his eye

that would suggest

beauty is all I

see when you are with me.

 

Please,

allow her to know

she is elegance

the delight

in his soul

when finding

inspiration,

will she give him

her love,

yes,

always will his

life be the wonder

of her personal dreams

to give him

swift confidence,

sweet innocence,

 

For her love in his eyes

will his wonder live wise.

 

A Moment In Trepidation

I’m sitting in my home, and I am bored to tears. I suppose they call this love after 30 years, the problem is I’ve never felt so lonely in my life. I have tried to come to terms with who I am in this world, my marriage, my job, my purpose in life. I discovered almost twenty years ago I really did know love, but the society I was raised in did not give me license to openly explore my passions, so my life became discreet.

When one day I realized we couldn’t go forward, I walked away and returned to my family. My children obviously took precedent and I did everything I could to make sure they have a good life, and today I believe they do. I made mistakes along the way, but I do believe they know what love is in our lives. My spouse and I have had our struggles. If I attend one more support group that gives me a takeaway and tells me that marriage is a compromise I suppose I will go stir crazy.

I’ve tried for years to enhance my relationship ~ creating romantic events ~ exploring ways to enhance our communication, and yet, to no avail. To some, it may sound like I am feeling sorry for myself, and maybe I am but I cannot leave my marriage. If I do it will be perceived as selfish, not trying to find my happiness. I’m stuck, so I was easily flattered when a woman showed me attention 18 years ago. That initial attention turned to love which will be a story for another time.

Tonight, I’m reaching out, I don’t know where, only to let the reader know I have experienced the darkest of my days, and I am hopeful I am stepping out of the chasm as I like to refer to my environment. I need to find a way out or I will do something impulsive. I would devastate my children and I don’t want to do that. I’m so exhausted.

The reality is there is only one person that has the strength to keep me alive and I know everyone might believe it is me, but it is not. That person is responsible for the concept of love and what it means in a world that walks around in a fit of quiet desperation a world of confusion and trepidation. What is remarkable is I know I am not alone.

A Moment of Pause

In love stories, always there are moments of confusion. I woke to one today. I rely upon the communication of an email, a text to determine what is right or wrong in my life. Seldom do I have the advantage of a voice, eyes, a smile or expression to help me navigate my confusion. This moment I reacted with all of the fear of a lonely man, and tonight I am regretting it.

I know my vulnerability is at a high level right now. I believed I was alone with this and realized this morning I am not. I don’t have a solution, just an awareness and humility.

Love stories will continue on another day.

Jane – story # 2

This story is meant for you, and I wish you were out there because everything I say, you will know, and I would be so happy to find you again. Jane is her real name. Story # 1 is a play on words, call it a non sequitur of love.

i met Jane in college. She was this elegant woman who walked across campus alone every day. She walked home from school, I didn’t know where she went once she crossed the street while I stood at the bus stop. She wore green rain boots up to her calves even when it wasn’t rain. She had jeans and a pullover with a waist long jean jacket and a scarf. A stocking cap and a pensive expression carried her past me about a block away every day. One day a friend of mine at the bus stop, said that would be the girl for me, you’re both kind of artsy. I had a lot of respect for my friend so for her to say that to me, I was extremely complimented and happy.

So I began to look for Jane at school, it was a small school, we weren’t too hidden from each other. One day I was in the library and she sat with a magazine directly across from me, and we looked at each nervously for about ten minutes, paging through our magazines having no idea what the contents were. We were just watching each other. She got up in a few minutes and walked into the stacks to study. I stayed in my chair, and realized I needed to ask her out. In a few minutes I walked the stacks found her cubicle and introduced myself. I did actually stumble as I walked up to her – perhaps that helped.

We spent the next six months at her place – her dad worked in town, the house was always hers – we took walks together, and made love in the afternoon sunlight. We never consummated our love making, we did everything we could possibly wish to but didn’t have intercourse. I felt strongly at the time, if we did, I would need to marry her, and I was 21, and scared.

One day we took a walk in a normal part of the wood. We aimed for a meadow we would always find one another in and make love. She was a lot of steps in front of me, so I anticipated her being there – but she wasn’t. When I got there, I noticed she was a couple of blocks away and walking into our local fairgrounds park. I found her in the bleachers crying. She actually said to me words that I would hear twenty years later – Is this all there is – we stayed together though for two more years.

One day we skipped school the entire afternoon. We went to a local car lot and took a brown Volvo wagon for a test drive. The owner was a family friend, so we kept the car for six hours, we made love in it, and we talked about buying it moving to California. We drove around school like we were really something. I won’t forget that day.

We eventually broke up. One afternoon while laying together in her place, I ran my hands along her jeans and said they fit her so well, and she said yeah, she had been wearing them for eight days. I’ve written about those jeans. I’ve written about her. She was my first real love.

We separated and I heard she was going out with another local guy I knew. He was good man, I was happy for her. One of the things we agreed to do was write each other letters. This was long before internet. We’d write a letter and it would take a day or two to get to one another. They were beautiful letters. I still have hers, I hope she has mine. She had a long gravel road to her home from the mail box. She would read my letter on her way back so she could be done before Bill would see the letter. She told me he didn’t like the letters, and she gave me a smiley face to let me know it was ok.

We moved to separate cities – and we continued writing. One day I wrote her a letter and asked her to move to Minneapolis, and she scathed me – ‘how could you possibly think I would just pick up and leave?’ I never wrote her again. I think she wanted me to convince her, and I was too scared. I took it the wrong way. I would have a penchant for misreading signals the rest of my life.

If you can see this Jane, just know my love for you is nostalgic and filled with a sweet romantic memory. I do hope you are well.

Speaking To Pain

This is such a difficult topic. We seldom want to go here and the people that do, I admire because somehow they are able to tap into those demons, the ones that leave me in a constant of revealing my darkest terrors. I honestly don’t know if I will get there yet.

Everything I write about in here is about love, and there is pain in love, I get it, and I understand, but I don’t wish to comprehend it. I don’t want to face it, I don’t want to accept the pain that goes with love. I don’t want to be that guy that is just hurting, because if that is all I express, how can that person I love have any patience with any effort I put toward letting her know how I feel.

I don’t think that is a question in the mind of someone who has separated themselves from that person who they know holds onto a candle of hope. Their choice is to occupy their lives with priorities that no longer offer memories, and for me that is one of the most tragic parts of who we are, were, or ever could be. I am completely lost and I have these moments of pure defeat that leave me wondering what purpose I have for trying to move forward.

I got really sick a month ago, found myself in the hospital, and the one person I wanted to hear from wants nothing to do with me. This is preservation on her part, and I get it but this is also my lesson in love, and it is the hardest study I have ever endured.

I’m speaking from my heart, and I do not want sympathy, I just appreciate being able to tap into this when I can.

Losing My Muse

The truth is, years ago, I fell in love with a woman who one day decided her life was moving in a different direction and I was left behind. My recovery took many years, in fact a friend of mine, one time pointed out that for several days all I did was talk about the loss, and I needed to change my focus.

So I did, after some time, I knew I was still in love, but ironically, I found out she had been sleeping with my best friend for months, so suddenly everything made sense, and I started to get past my broken heart. The one thing I said to myself was that I would never fall in love to such a degree again.

Jump a few years later and I decided to settle down with a woman whom had similar goals as mine – we got married, but I knew going in – this is a sad reality – I would never love again the way I had. I would simply be content. We have beautiful children together and we made a life. Sadly though I’ve never been happy, and I cannot imagine she has been. Despite it all we stayed together.

Embedded within all of this common reality is an experience I discovered while in grad school. Many years ago, I met a woman whom carried a similar energy as my own. We began writing letters and discovered a love for words, something I had missed with a woman for many many years. we then took it a step further and became intimate, spreading years between those early days of romantic parchment to now an enticement with one another. One day, in the winter, very much like our present season, I felt I must tell her that I loved her, and I did, but she heard me wrong – and the timing unraveled our affections. We had been walking around with an ‘is this all there is’ and I was afraid to tell her that I loved her because I thought I would lose her. It back fired and we fell apart. I returned fully – as much as possible – to my marriage, a broken and confused man – struggling with my reality, while a woman I loved faded out of my life.

I looked for her over the years, knew where she was but let her go. I even deleted her phone number so I wouldn’t be tempted. It wasn’t until years later I discovered she would call my voice mail with certain music that touched my heart.

A few years ago, a decade after we had gone our ways we did encounter one another, and over the course of several months we realized we were both quite in love, and our courtship outside of our marriages began again. We expressed our desires at the same time knowing we could not maintain the level of passion we experienced together but we always assured ourselves we probably would never leave this in the same circumstances as years ago.

I had found my muse and the mystique of her beauty and elegance became again, as it was without her directly in my life, the drive for my sensual poetry. Now, I am in a place where I no longer have the inspiration and that aspect of my writing is impacted, so I struggle with my words.

The one true thing I will finish with is I’ve just written a fantasy that I hope you the readers might have enjoyed. Because, there seems no reality in my words.

So now my days are spent searching for my muse, knowing love once again played its harmony with great zeal and slapped my heart and soul with disparaging abandon.