He Gets Me

You know when someone loves you because they know what you love. Among the gifts my Hubby gave was 50 feet of Para Cord and a Hello Kitty umbrella. He knows what I like. He paid attention. He gave me what I would really like and I adore him for it. He gets me.

I know what he likes I watch him drooling at the RV super store. I make mental notes throughout the year about what catches his eye. His satisfaction and contented purring over his Christmas haul was music to my ears. and his reward, you may ask...? He gets... me.

A Man in My Eyes

When you would stop me in passing and turn me to face away from you and re tie my bow, when you so thoughtfully remembered to pack my favorite refreshment in a cooler when we took a road trip, when you looked into my eyes, smiled and said "My beautiful wife...", when you grabbed me in your sleep and pulled me to you because you had a nightmare and wanted to protect me, when you said nice things about your step son when you didn't think I was listening, when you take me out to dinner and tip generously for good service, when you do these things that make you a man in my eyes, I adore you.

Holding Hands

I can always find my comfort and being when I am holding hands with someone I love. Most of the time I live so much inside my own head I feel very formless and disconnected. That contact and touch snaps me to physical reality and grounds me in a soothing way. I notice time when I hold your hand.

I like the communication that crosses back and forth from holding hands. There is a sweetness when you do it for the first time with someone. You shyly touch and find that right position. The levels of intimacy through holding hands is wonderful too. Interlaced fingers while making love is wildly intimate and erotic. The trust and control gaged by the restraint and measured tenderness of the hands, intoxicating.

Sometimes when I sleep with you I have you curled around me and I find your hand. I like to hold just your thumb. My hands are so small in yours that I can't comfortably hold your fingers interlocked, but I can grasp your thumb in the palm of my hand nicely. I'll sleep like that. My whole essence adrift in the universe of empty sleep but anchored in the world by your hand, your thumb in mine.

Soaked

I knew when I fell in love. One minute friendly and laughing and the next something more, something grand and overwhelming. I remember once driving down the highway and driving beneath an overpass. As I drove under it was clear and when I emerged out the other side it was a deluge of rain. It happened in moments. One second dry and next soaked. Love is like that.

I remember being so utterly baffled by the surge of emotions, chemicals and sensations that rioted around my body that I could hardly breath or think. Seems like I lost my footing. Now anytime you kiss me long or whisper something tantalizing in my ear I am lost all over again. I hate that power you have over me, and I surrender to it every time.

Familiar and Still New

I know you are tired. I know that you have just enough energy to watch TV and wind down. Yet, when I see you draped across the couch looking ever so much like an all you can eat buffet, it is difficult for me to leave you alone.

I can walk by and glance at you, so cuddly and relaxed, maybe twice before I need to devour you. I gesture my intention to you with my insistent knee, gently prying apart your legs to let me nestle between them and match you limb for limb along the length of your lanky body.

You are always warmer than me. It's like embracing sunshine in my arms. I love heat of you, the pulsing energy and sinew of you. I duck my head under your T- shirt and let it tent over to hide the little torments I will indulge myself in on your chest.

My senses sing full of you as I am tickled by your chest hair. I greet each puckered tan nipple by capturing it with the pressure of my lips. This ancient rhythm I play out on you is familiar and still new to me. 

The Ear

You held me captive with your lips. Warm soft cupping kisses against the shell of my helpless earlobe, I tremble under the sweet punishment. Each exhale a crashing wave on the endless sand. Each flick of your tongue sending lightening charges along my spine.

Every tender assault on my ear leaves me shuddering in anticipation. You slay me. I am conquered. I become the twinkling stars and yielding moon of your expansive night. Points of light the pin pricks of pleasure you pierce from me.

My Silent Patient Sentinel

There are places in the memory of my life that are so sad, so full of pain and loss that I cannot bare to look into their darkness. They are there, those voids that punctuate my self knowledge. Occasionally they force themselves to be reckoned with. A song will bring them, A fragrance or a chill in the air.

Suddenly I am in the past and it is as visceral and real in it's wounding as if it just happened. When I understood that my first husband hated me. When my lover died of cancer. Every time I had to watch my son get on a plane. Even the memory of it stings afresh. I can leave it in the dusty unvisited places of my mind but they come to me like ghosts still.

That vulnerable, broken part of who I am is a terrible place for me. Those hurtful memories are my kryptonite. I could still be that crushed soul. I could still be afraid of life if I didn't have your love.

Your tender kindness rescued me from my personal despair. You were my lifeline when I sobbed even while I slept, you just watching me, just there. You my silent patient sentinel of my pain.I didn't love you then the way I do now. I couldn't with that abused and broken heart.

Thank you.

Thank you for encompassing me with your love when I had none worth giving. Thank you for forgetting my insecurity and only recalling my strengths. Thank you for carrying me when I couldn't or didn't want to go on. Thank you for letting my love have a reason; for letting what I had to give you be, not only enough but what you wanted.

Your devotion to me has inspired me to a passion for you I never thought possible. You made me feel I was worth the wait.

Satin Over Steel

I stood under the shower and let the almost too hot spray dance over me. I thought about you and how much I wanted to taste your mouth. I eased just the tip of my tongue out into the water and felt the heat of it, the tickle and wetness of it on my face.

I wondered how my tongue would feel to be dragged across the warm pale skin of your torso. There isn't a taste there but I like the texture. I like the warmth that radiates from you when I explore the contours of your body with my tongue. You feel like satin over steel. I can feel your heart pacing like a too eager horse.

Everything on you is warm, and sleek and strong. It fascinates me how well you balance that cool restraint with animal attraction.I have never mastered it.I cannot stifle a cry of ecstasy. I barely remember to turn my head into the pillow to muffle them when I crisis.

Rain

I am ashamed of myself. I pursue you when I know the natural order of things is to be pursued. I can't help it. Dark and heavy rain clouds can't help raining. I can't hold back the flood of passion I feel.You, who stretch out endlessly before me as a parched landscape I long to rain down torrents of kisses upon.

You torment me with your form. I could have been serene but you sought me out and teased me with that virile tumescent flute. Knowing full well there was no time or opportunity to release me from my cage of longing, you stood seductive and strong. Then you left me. I felt like the last note had not been played, an unfinished symphony.

I fondle myself, angry with frustration and loneliness. These fingers should be your fingers, your lips, your ardent love. They are not. They are the masturbation mimicry of the memory of you.I wish you would come to me and set me free. I am so ready to be persuaded. It would not take much to make my back arch up and illicit soft groans from this warm throat.

Dark Sweet

I waited all day and even some of the night for you.I'm obsessive that way.I wish I wasn't. I wish I could be cool and aloof and self contained like my stylish girlfriends. I'm not.

My singular personality trait keeps me tied to you like a boat moored to a rock. I may feel as if I'm moving but I am still held by your power to draw me. I love you. I love the idea of you. My heart clenches inside when I reach for you and you unconsciously ignore the gesture.

It isn't that I need you to define myself. It is because the wildness of my sex still fires me up when I'm near you. This morning I watched you shave, leaning against the sink, a towel tied snugly around your waist. I rose and came up behind you to kiss your warm still wet shoulder and smooth my hand over the curve of your ass through the steamy warm terrycloth.

How can I be so invisible to you and your schedule when to me you are the sun I orbit? I'm there and not there. I have become the ambiance of your life, like furniture or a cloud moving among the trees. Atmosphere. I long and ache to be the subject of the picture , not just the mood for it. I long for you. I want you to be with me, near me, in me. Not forever, but long enough so I can match my heartbeats to yours.

It is a heavy thing to have all this passion and nowhere to put it. Take it. Take me my love. Take me somewhere dark and sweet.

Vanilla

You asked me why I bought chocolate chip cookies from the bakery instead of the cheaper ones in the bag. I hadn't really thought about it in any detail before that. After weighing my answer I said," I like the bakery cookies better because they seem more homemade to me. I pretend that someone has baked them for me and it feels like love to me."

You were thoughtful after that. I like that, how you get quiet and go inside yourself to ponder. The color of your eyes change from light blue to a deep sea green. Later that day you announced that you were going to learn how to make chocolate chip cookies for me... because you love me.

The sweetness of that statement was so powerful that it melted me inside. You love me. You bake cookies for me. I'm slain. Not only have you learned to bake cookies, they are the most delicious cookies that anyone has ever tasted. They are your signature dish. People you have shared those cookies with know you by your cookie baking skill.

Now when I smell vanilla it smells like pure love to me.

A Little Off the Top

This is our dance. I have been cutting your hair for years. That thick, commanding head of hair, the envy of men and summoner of women. Long before we loved each other, I cut your hair. It was dark chocolate brown then. Somewhere, at sometime I fell in love with you; you fell in love with me too.

It became more than a little off the top then didn't it. I could see how you leaned your head back and luxuriated in the scalp massage, how you would spark when my knees brushed against yours when I leaned in to brush the trimmed hairs from your face.

We dance like this for years. Every few weeks or when your gorgeous Pompadour gets unruly I cut your hair. You sit wrapped in a plastic shield and I hover around you, the buzz of the shaver raking through your locks. There is always a little more silver. That beautiful silver in you hair makes me wild. I never wear a bra when I'm cutting your hair. My teasing gift to you are the shape of my nipples bobbing at your eye level.

Pillow Case

Yes, I was the one who stole your pillow case. I took it, still warm even before you pulled out of the driveway to go to work. I cannot get enough of you, enough of how the scent of you triggers me like slightest breeze sets off a shower of raindrops to the forest floor.

I want to wrap your smell around me and remember again and again how that way you touched me overrides everything except the urge to arch my back. I'll wear your pillow case all day so it feels like you are near me. Even when I sit and write. I'll pause to wrap your pillow case around my fist and crush its scent to my nose, looking for you in the sense memory, evoking the delicious anticipation.

I am wicked that way. You will never realize until you read this that I have worn your pillow case next to my skin all day. It touched me all the day as I had thoughts of you. It is safely again enveloping your pillow, smoothed out, waiting for your sleepy head to fall on it.

Dream tonight of the way I smell when I'm lusting for you. Let it work like a spell. Find me in the sleepy darkness and mingle in the warmth of my pillow case.