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Tuesday, 02 December 2008

Monday, 10 November 2008

  • um.


    i had a random thought just now about how i used to leave my laptop on.
    and it reminded me of the last time i was on my Dell.
    and that was the time of you.
    and even though i love him, even though i'm happy in a way now,
    i miss you.


    and i sort of can't breathe.

Monday, 01 September 2008

  • Currently Listening
    10,000 Days
    By Tool
    Intension
    see related

    susurrate (to be read after the previous entry)


    to be spoken in a gentle whisper (“baby”, “love”) and otherwise in a soft, strong voice:

     

    baby

    I am calling out to you

    baby

    come to me

    love

    lean on me

    love

    take comfort in me

    baby

    I am calling out to you

    baby

    come to me

    love

    you ache; I heal.

    love

    you hurt; I comfort.

    baby

    I call out to you.

    baby

    let me comfort you.

    give me your pain; give me your weakness. I will make you strong again.

    I will walk when your feet grow weary-

    climb onto my back, and I’ll carry you.

    baby,

    you are my

    baby

    you are my

    love

    i

    love

    you

  • Currently Listening
    On
    By Imperial Teen
    Ivanka
    see related

    Sweet baby.
    When he gets like that, sleepy and stubborn and fuzzyheaded...all I want to do is hold him in my arms and give him kisses on his pretty face, and tell him everything will be okay.
    I want to take care of him so badly. And I know he's eighteen, can probably take care of himself better than I can take care of myself..I know he's miles taller than me and much stronger and everything but all that does is make my heart ache even more with that ridiculously strong tenderness he inspires in me. I feel so much like the sort of boyfriend I've always wanted to be- the one person to whom the tough guy concedes, the only person he'll allow to kiss his wounds or even to see them. I want to be the wind beneath his wings, and see him soar high into the air...I want to be the support for his system, the one he turns to when he's lost or hurt or in need, even in tiny instances. I want him to run to me, to call on me, to reach for me.

    Looking at him while he sleeps, with his dark sandy lashes swept down over his gorgeous little dimpled cheeks I can imagine him as a little boy, full of dreams and his baby sexuality and all the hopes and fears of childhood, the bright apples in his cheeks, the sadness behind the stormy silver-gray of his eyes.
    He dreams so big, my baby, and he's so afraid of rejection that he swallows his needs and hopes they'll disappear. Anything to make someone else happy- usually me.
    My sweet baby.

    God, I want to comfort him so badly. I want to be everything that he needs so much- not only sexually, but in the sense that I am not only a boyfriend or lover to him but his second mother, his second father. His brother and sister, his best friend (other best friend)..

    I want him to wake from his nightmares and turn to me to comfort him. I want him to trust that no matter what I'll be there- I'll do what I can, whatever I can, to ease his pain and his fears.

    sometimes...sometimes I can imagine it. being married to him, laying beside him in our own bed and having his lovely head on my chest, his big hands on my stomach, fast asleep like a child grown too quickly, and my fingers- my fingers, caressing his hair, his cheek, his shoulders, letting him know even in dreams that I am here, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here.

    sometimes when I watch him sleep I feel a tenderness so great that my heart feels swollen with it.
    sometimes when i watch him sleep I long to fold him inside myself and protect him from everything.
    of course, sometimes when i watch him sleep I want to tunnel under the blankets to cover the most secret parts of his body with my mouth, and watch him stir into wakefulness as he stirs between my suckling lips.

    sometimes when i watch him sleep....I could cry.

Sunday, 31 August 2008

  • Currently Listening
    Mute Math
    By Mute Math
    Picture
    see related

    scrapbook (not finished, just gathering ideas)


    touch

    to touch you is a secret flush-
    spreading up from the roots of my soul in the soles of my rough feet,
    into my legs that tremble,
    splitting into individual shocks surging up my thighs that quiver (more than usual) to coalesce again in the core of my being.
    my hands against your skin in a chiaroscuro of vanilla and cocoa golden-
    your hands on my body, painting erotica on the parchment of my skin.

    to kiss you is to taste human imperfection in its sweetest form; making love, a fresco on Italian walls of every love story ever drawn on the canvases hung from our human bones.

    feel

    i confess, i am in love with your hands;
    they of the five-fingered fame, of elegance, crafted to crave and to craft craving-
    to carve in my soul your memorials of sex and sorrow.
    you made me remember sensation, in the soft seconds between our sighs,
    you taught me emotion in the shuddered breaths you took between touches.
    we are the never-graduating class in a neverending school: life.

    breathe

    picture my lover, stoned and shy, undone by my hand-
    you are helpless at my kiss as i am at your touch,
    and together we fuse into melted bliss.






maXcoeurXcachee

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    • Name: maXcoeurXcachee
    • Gender: Male
    • Member Since: 5/13/2008

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About Me

  • This journal is now an obsolete reference to a time in my past that is ended (obviously) and henceforth shall become a museum, monument to the time when I was wide open. To the person whose memory rests in these words- to the people, I should say- I am going to miss you very much.

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