New Girl, or "The love is there, even when you can't see it"
Sometimes I sit at my desk, and listen to Billy Bob Thornton's band on iTunes and wonder what it would be like to have his "fuck the world" attitude towards everything. How liberating that must be. I'll never have the funds to feel that way, I'm sure, but nevertheless, it's an interesting thing to contemplate. Especially at 5 am when the only other sounds I hear are the coffee pot brewing that magic liquid that will infuse my mind with consciousness, and the goddamn ferret trying to escape his pen. Yesterday was a shitty day. I'm hoping today feels better, because I suck at every relationship in my life when my mind dips to those places.
[what's come between us...could it be the magic and the mystery of love?]
Last night we watched the pilot of New Girl, and it made me laugh. Monica loves Zooey Deschanel, and I loved having her head on my chest and my hand gently caressing the nakedness of her back. It was the first moment all day that I felt anything but weakness in my mind. It is amazing to me, the way something as simple as her skin against mine can erase the sadness, can veil the stress, can help me breathe. I wish there was no end to those moments, as cliche as it sounds, that would be amazing.
She worries. Of her own accord, because that's what she does ... but then my inability to shelter her from my feelings just piles more worry on top. I find myself irritated that she makes comments like "You don't love me" in response to my callous nature when I feel like I did yesterday. She should know that I adore her, completely and immodestly. Even when I seem listless, the love I have for her still roars within me like the waters of a million rivers. Just because my mind is splintered into a million places and I'm unable to focus on her doesn't mean I've lost interest. The despondency that settles over me at times does not quench my thirst for her body, mind and soul ... it just binds my feelings in locks and chains, and I need her touch to set me free again.
When she realizes that my love has no end, that the pool of adoration in which she swims has no bottom, maybe she will fully comprehend [or at least begin to realize] that she is the solution to every problem I have. With her holding my hand, I am invincible. When she needs me, I am putty in her hands. When she loves me, the way only she can love me, the world disintegrates like firewood consumed by flame.
But what she doesn't realize is ... I need her the most at the very times when she pulls away.
[they all said we'd never make...two crazy panthers on the prowl...they all said we would only fake it, for a while...we just stared at them and growled]
I understand the way things are. And I will continue to crave those moments that she places her head on my chest, and I rub her back while watching TV. I will continue to love her in my way, the protective, jealous, consuming love that I never asked to develop in my heart, but did anyway, just by reading her words from a thousand and a half miles away. I will continue to be hers, as long as she lets me, and then much longer, because she is my imprint, and I would have it no other way.
[i won't let you leave my love behind]
Good morning, love...
[what's come between us...could it be the magic and the mystery of love?]
Last night we watched the pilot of New Girl, and it made me laugh. Monica loves Zooey Deschanel, and I loved having her head on my chest and my hand gently caressing the nakedness of her back. It was the first moment all day that I felt anything but weakness in my mind. It is amazing to me, the way something as simple as her skin against mine can erase the sadness, can veil the stress, can help me breathe. I wish there was no end to those moments, as cliche as it sounds, that would be amazing.
She worries. Of her own accord, because that's what she does ... but then my inability to shelter her from my feelings just piles more worry on top. I find myself irritated that she makes comments like "You don't love me" in response to my callous nature when I feel like I did yesterday. She should know that I adore her, completely and immodestly. Even when I seem listless, the love I have for her still roars within me like the waters of a million rivers. Just because my mind is splintered into a million places and I'm unable to focus on her doesn't mean I've lost interest. The despondency that settles over me at times does not quench my thirst for her body, mind and soul ... it just binds my feelings in locks and chains, and I need her touch to set me free again.
When she realizes that my love has no end, that the pool of adoration in which she swims has no bottom, maybe she will fully comprehend [or at least begin to realize] that she is the solution to every problem I have. With her holding my hand, I am invincible. When she needs me, I am putty in her hands. When she loves me, the way only she can love me, the world disintegrates like firewood consumed by flame.
But what she doesn't realize is ... I need her the most at the very times when she pulls away.
[they all said we'd never make...two crazy panthers on the prowl...they all said we would only fake it, for a while...we just stared at them and growled]
I understand the way things are. And I will continue to crave those moments that she places her head on my chest, and I rub her back while watching TV. I will continue to love her in my way, the protective, jealous, consuming love that I never asked to develop in my heart, but did anyway, just by reading her words from a thousand and a half miles away. I will continue to be hers, as long as she lets me, and then much longer, because she is my imprint, and I would have it no other way.
[i won't let you leave my love behind]
Good morning, love...