Dark and infinite nights.
Hot and blistering days.
The haze that melds the two.
The waiting would be interminable,
But for the fact that you
When I asked you, if
This enforced separation,
This unwanted medical spanner that
Got thrown into the works that is
You and I. You said,
“I’m happy to wait.
The right time is more important than any old time.
You’re beautiful. and hot. and desirable. and lascivious.
I love you for saying that.
I love you anyway, but especially for saying that.
You’re sexy, and enticing,
You make me wet from miles away.
Now I’m a human tsunami.
Tonight he returns. It’s been three long, tedious weeks of staring at my bound-in-synthetic-plaster leg, and sighing from the heat — and tonight he boards the plane to return.
There are several important and significant people who inspire in me a need to put my feelings into black and white. This one is the one who is *the one* — if that makes any sense.
I love them all, my men. Each in their own way delights and excites me — else why would I spend my time with them. And I care for them all deeply. They all know that exclusivity is not my way, and they accept it — I’m upfront about that from the word go. But there is one with whom I share the bond of the soulmate — and it is he of whom I write in this particular piece.
How do I describe that oh-so-subtle something that sets him apart? I do not wish in any way to sound overly sentimental and kitschy, so I turn instead to the higher power of Claude Debussy. The beauty of this piece in particular (and I have deliberately linked to the extended version) uses music to say the words that, for once, are failing my fingers.
What can I tell you? It must be love. It is love.