My Mind's Eye

Nervousness, twitching, furtive clock-watching. What would he think of me?

A few months later, I found out. A second life for me,(for us,) sprung out of a complete nothingness on that first blind date.

Now I am with feet on the ground, and head in the clouds. I know that the pedals of my past life and history still creak a little bit, and so, I mostly block out those sounds that used to pester at me. I look at our wedding photo on the far wall and how many other framed photographs of us that now are born on all the opposing walls. And I try to puzzle it out, as everyone does, if she is honest with herself, why it should be that I am here now, in this place of happiness, that I have out paced and out lived the dead wood of horrible things. 

Layers of time and meaning accumulate as my mind’s eye all at once images an old photograph of me plucking at the stitches of my since gone injuries. I did not come from a family that ever had much to offer one another as far as emotion or love, condolences or gratitude, frames of sadness and unpleasantness is mostly what framed our existence together. That same broken foundation then followed me, thus matriculating itself into my first marriage, where it hung around, for years upon years. A very broken marriage, where pieces of it's jaded glass often cut right into my flesh.

 But here, today, even all of that I now hope to put aside, to breathe in this notion of happiness, the longed for peace found with this new human being that now holds my hand, and walks by my side.

My newest engagement ring and wedding band now impart a stinging blend of comfort and sadness harbored within them for me. These inanimate, un - breathing trinkets remain, untouched, echoing not, those same desperate voices and sounds of the past, but a new trilogy of what lies ahead as I reach with an open hand.... and an even larger open heart...to let him in!

Little Black Dresses

The Little Black Dress in the closet: always appropriate, never gaudy, and equally capable of motion towards the simple or the ornate. In other words, Little Black Dresses can sustain the weight of the moment, any moment. They wear well. Go out today and buy yourself a 'Little Black Dress', hell, buy yourself two..........and for all general purposes, get one that's a little bit more seductive then the other.

Crave the Peace that Yoga Brings...

Some days it's good to simply breathe, lay still and listen to my mind. Below all the chatter of my thoughts is my field of emotion, underneath that layer I find the truths. I believe I can do most things. My eyes sometimes sting from tears unshed, these are almost certainly, images of my own grace..........

Hot Marital Sex Corner

Make a photo album of yourself for your hubby. Get a good friend, someone you are very comfortable with, and spend an afternoon doing a photo shoot....use lingerie/ garters/ stockngs, scarves, jewelry, raincoats, heels, a staircase, a railing, leather boots, feather duster, maid costume, bedroom, candles, top hats, fidoras, his business shirts and ties, bathtub (with water and bubbles) long lace gloves that go up your arm,....make the photos seductive and sexy...create a small hand held album for him....sending them via his phone reduces the privacy of them. Use Victoria Secret's skin bronzers for a toned tan effect in pictures. Their dry oil bronzer dries almost instantly to a luminous light tan. Be creative, get creative!

Saw this woman on the train...

    Eyes downcast in subtle gentle movement, theatrically paused, pondering, tottering on my high heels, leafless trees giving way to feng shui surroundings. The churning of the train fills my ears with loudest roar. Stepping from the platform, crossing through the doors, a poignant silence which seems to last forever. A woman starring out the window, in a far away dismal look, then the gushing of her streams of tears. I cannot make the words, so I offer her a tissue to wipe the darkened rings of mascara dripping down her cheek, in a need to abolish them to the nearest graveyard. The doors once again open, commuters in eager rush to get on with their day, their work, and their ornate lives.

     I think about the woman later on in my day, the mournful face of her tears, I should have asked her, was it death, or a love affair now over? I should have asked her, should have comforted her, and should have offered her something for her fragility, her tiredness, and her pain. Should have told her, that this too shall pass. The salt of her tears rest in the unhurried unanswered questions that still linger through my thoughts, as I believe for some very strange and presumptuous reason, that the weight of the world now rests on the frame of her delicate shoulders.

If You...so have I

If you have ever had a broken heart, if you have ever suffered a human loss, if you have ever felt alone and afraid, you are not the only one, if you have ever danced naked when no one was looking, I am going to tell you, so have most of us, repeatedly,

if you have ever gotten so lost in a song that it became your life, learn to sing that melody and memorize those words. Picking up life ceaselessly until you are in awe of it,

until it transforms you with just enough echo to grope at you in the darkness, peer at you through random glass, reconstruct you in language of bewilderment. It is only then that life leaves you in awe of possibilities, of what tomorrow may bring.

Missing Spring Completely!

I already miss the smell of spring, when wild blooms catch up close to the edge of my nostrils, as beyond anyone's common knowledge I lay in the stark silence of winter, hibernating and waiting. Waiting for dormancy to end, the earth to warm, and nocturnal songs of crickets to drift in through my window.

Waiting, for the cold vapor of my mouth to suspend, and I, to turn to a purple haze frenzy of saluted heated passion. Waiting, to loose myself in the rise and fall of waves of rapture. Yes, I simply cannot wait for spring, to forget the gloomy gray fog of winter that holds me like a cage, implied but left unspoken. 

Yes, yet another declaration from me, on just how intrusive I find winter. I never was a girl of “all seasons”, I was the bare legged and mini skirt kind of girl...my mid - life years are proving no different.

Van Morrison Tinkering in My Head

A favorite Van Morrison is tinkering around today in my head, as I reach for  sounds to listen to, amid the murmur of all of this cold, soaking and saturating my soul. (Note to self: warmer blankets need to be added to my bed)  I'm not quite sure what this says about me, or of the universe I have created by entrenching the hopes and flaws of myself, into a single season, but winter is really not for me. Summer takes it, hands down. Curating my life into one stream of thought, also feels like I am molding many junctures now into a single being, a single well defined branch instead of an entire tree with roots in all directions. Summer is but a hopeful reappearing memory, as I  peer up at the jar of sea glass and seashells tucked away on an upper shelf, and get back to the daily grind business of getting myself through the audacity of this frigid month, and then further along through the dread of February's ice and snow predicted.

Meeting My Second Husband

For a split second, riding the train, I forgot that he was even ever here. Transporting myself back in time, collapsing yesterday's past into today's present, lingering, while other passengers walked ahead of me. My mouth dry, as I took a sip of water, savoring thought of the wine and love still on my lips from yesterday's past.

 I could see the night playing out all over again, playing scenes over and over again in my mind, like a slow motion play-by-play feedback. Already construing argument as to why I should never see him again, absolving myself from the responsibility of love. This time, I had been blindsided by the smell, the taste, and the feel, of unexpected new sex. 

 I couldn't stop the sensation from coming, nor deny the fact, that his dark eyes left the feeling of warm sun moving up my back, as I became trapped in his fire, as I burned in his flame. Shaking myself out of this trance, heading east out the 42nd street exit, the breeze blew against the curve of my face, as I breathed deeply in, each lungful breath energizing, further revitalizing me.

 I pulled down my sunglasses over my eyes, in intent of knowing, that not everything that existed would be seen along the border of my face. 
I was feeling it all falling into place, the smell, the taste, the feel, of new sex, the responsibility of love right around the corner...

Hot Marital Sex Corner

A pair of black stiletto heels, (not the chunky clumsy kind), the tall, lean elegant kind.......a string of long beaded white pearls that travels from your neck down to your naked navel, a black garter, black stockings,( unattached to the garter) string, or bikini, black panty, and a black very thin (poodle like) leash attached to your neck......no bra.....no top...... leaving breasts revealed.........and leash dangling.......dim the lights completely..........let the whole illusion ride as you walk into the room...........doing a strip - tease.......
Victoria Secret makes a bronzing shimmer light dry oil, and, or, a bronzing illuminating lotion called Flawless.....both items will give your skin...legs and torso, a slight finishing touch!

Inhibitions Lost

He was wrapped so tenderly and securely around her bones, she was able to feel the rise and fall of his breath, the cadence, his lips against her hair, his hand on her thigh, slowly building on her fragile precipices, wandering up her walls at will, as she let go into the petting session, repenting sin on the bony path of her knees. Always able to charm his way out of anything, and right into the cavity of her, his blood flow now flowing again. Prodding her breasts into the gray camisole she had chosen, all the while brandishing a long look in the over sized freestanding mirror. Although she had always looked for her, the woman in the mirror was hidden from sight, all she could ever see were the strings of pearls draped down her body in concealing veils. All she could see was....the woman she envisioned herself to be, a long way home from the woman she once was. All she could ever see was the uninhibited version of self.........go for it in 2014!

I Do

Do you like the company you keep when you are alone?

i do

Do you like perfect, but are willing to twirk it a bit, so some flaws remain?

i do

Do you leave imperfections in your character?

i do

Do you enjoy chivalry?

i do

Do you confess ?

i do

Do you sin? ( the question really is, according to who's rules?)

i do

Do you want more, than at times, one person has to give?

i do

Do you grieve for the starfish you left on the beach...in your childhood plastic bucket?

i do

Do you miss, when no one else ever does?

i do

Do you wish to be in a bubble bath for two, where the foam of bubbles is all that separates the both of you?

i do

Do you posture for more than pretense?

i do

Do you hold the key to someone's heart?

i do

Do you forgive when you have to (or, only when someone is watching)?

i do

Do you know yourself better than none (or hold only the parts of you, that you like)?

i do

Do you think tomorrow can ever be, as good as your 'best' today?

i do

Do you believe in someone else's truth?

i do

Did you ever think there would come a day, when you would have to alter your thought on what 'living' actuallly is? where the blacks and blues become a color you no longer can describe? where the arc of your being is held so fragile, that the lightest of breeze topples you over? where you are so in -  love, that nothing else will ever matter? and you then realize, that the meaning of your whole life, can be found in the gentleness of that one kiss.........

did you?
did you ever think?

Definition of Hope

The reflection of my body in the mirror, in a puddle of rain, on the tip of your eyelash, is my definition of hope. When nothing else, and no one else, is even near, my reflection is all that's needed to define my hope, proving all that's real, my words on the page, without warning or symptoms, my fingers once again in Hemingway earnest, tap, tap - tap, tap, tap, tap...and I write.... as I am remained in taboo thoughts no one ever writes about, as a roar of silence cuts through the scent of my skin, and the air around me swells in insidious vibration. Faltering my fingers at the bathroom sink, splashes of cold water bring blood vessels to surface, my face, a peculiar blend of old and new. In the mirror I lean forward, expectant to see the shadow of myself in rearview.... the cold shrill of winter settling into my tailbone, bearing down on the nakedness of my chest, as I reach skeletal and exhaustingly for the sunlight streaming in through the window...my definition of hope, is you!

Wanting Everything Now!

My life of late has evolved from a few steps forward here and there to GET ME THERE RIGHT NOW. Everything is fast, fast, I want, I need, and I must have. The passion side of all of that, that grew like a wild bush we no longer knew how to tame this morning, is still clinging to the moisture of the shower walls. Entire lives were changed during our orgasmic frenzy in our earlier shower together. The house looks different, him, me, the street below our window, the shadow from the neighbors lamppost illuminating our bed covers, the tarnished curtain rods (memo to self; must make a trip to Pier I Imports for new fanciful curtain rod findings), the shimmer - cream stain on the green bathroom rug, the painting hung in the entryway, the BMW car ring sitting placid on the nightstand, the TV remote balancing highhandedly, the bath towels streaked and wet. Fast, so fast, that the lather of soap began to fall from our fingertips, as we tugged each other's secret doors wide open under the warm spray of the showerhead. Then almost bursting in, falling upon the shower walls, drawing each other in and near, and nearer still, in a frenzied passion that could wait no longer. The here, the now, and the I want you, never the thought of later, or tomorrow. With long drawn kisses, he touched, with unsure fingers I played...wanting to stand under the water and feel his breath on the back of my neck, feeling his expansion, then his withering away. I picked up the washcloth gathered at my feet and washed our remnants down the drain, our tarnishing left on the pipes. In an almost surreal and orphaned state of solitude, we both fell onto the bed in operatic crash, towels left damp on the cold beige tiles, as each of us yearned for another cup of coffee. What else do you do in NY, when the thermometer reads negative sixteen degrees?..............you keep warm, any way you can! (you sometimes just need to play, because sex gets the juices going)

Hot Marital Sex Corner

It is always ok to give oral to your husband. It is the warmth and wetness of your mouth that triggers the turn - on in him. To be able to hold it further while he ejaculates gives him an undeniable sensation, rather than him stopping to pull out, then ejaculating. Safe sex is knowing your partner, and as long as you are both absent of any STDS, then there is no medical reason for a women to feel ashamed or squirmish if she swallows some of her husband. This is added reason for monogamy in a marriage, sex is not limited, but more fulfilling. A man will tell you that a blow job gives a more powerful orgasm, and is extremely sexy from his partner. Go for it!

On Being A Woman

I cannot always read the letters I have sprawled in black ink on both sides of the cocktail napkin, in small, delicate cramped handwriting. Words spilled over across a seedy bar where I had used the napkin to wipe down the barstool. I spread the napkin out, thumbtack it to my corkboard, Johnnie Walker Red now stained in the upper right hand corner. Must have been the oversight of the man at the bar, the one feeling up the leg of the dark haired girl, the one whom studied at Oxford, spoke four languages, but with a rare genetic mutation, was still rendered a very sloppy drunk. The stain turned the cocktail napkin to the likes of old parchment paper, variant replicas of my thoughts, of myself, living out in the sprawled words beneath the brown stain. 
A bit of my soul printed so permanently into the black ink, an affection, an affliction, a grief, a loss, a love, a need, a desire, a want, a life without an end point, a failing, perhaps, at times, by my very own complications, the way I was, and now the very boldness in who I now am. The committed parts of a woman not learned in a classroom, the permanent adulthood you cross over into once you allow yourself to let go, to be open to words, thoughts, stained napkins, seedy bars, risks and chances. In short, once you allow yourself to just be, without any expectation of life past midnight on a Saturday night, once, you let go of your past forever, finally hitching to a chance at a future. This dark haired girl I will never be, but, maybe I thought, I could learn from her...so I watched her navigate through the night and the seediness of the bar, and Oxford bred gents.

Running Bare

Nakedly bare, shedding skin by the roadside. Feeling the heat of my animal rise to the occasion, on a cusp of newly chilled dawn air. How unfortunate for those of you still cursed under the slumber of night.  

Harboring in the shadows, gray hand of sky reaching, infusing a sense of grace as I witness the cold unfolding of another January dawn. Inescapably theatrical, in precarious dance, sweat pulls my emotions into a melting on ice of the ground. Soaking up sunshine as if it is something salaciously lewd I cling to.

Small puddles of sweat spread out from each sneaker, as they hug themselves against the cold of the pavement. My flesh now naked, my soul utterly defenseless, in an almost skeptical sideways glance of pretentious thought, dripping wet, a river surrenders to the contours of my body. Magnetic force pulls me toward an embrace with the chill of silent morning air. Another morning run well executed!

Hot Marital Sex Corner

you can be softer and pink, and still equipped with a set of handcuffs.......

The first time we used handcuffs was to be a bit submissive, a bit over the edge, a bit of fantasy.........afterwards, we were still the same two people we were as beforehand, only, each with a secret smirk on our faces in front of family members.

Liven up your bedroom ladies... when the moon is swimming naked, life becomes, just a bit unpredictable.... as lips move, and bodies sway you turn through the night in circles, rules become none, the world keeps turning, and you and your husband become bodies of one and angels of passion.

Go for it!!

Hot Marital Sex Corner

this is a complete outfit! garter and string of pearls

ok, maybe you can add this as well....but nothing else, other than your heels!

Sometimes a string of pearls, and high heels, IS a complete outfit!!! I think it is all in the matter of how you view clothing, as necessary, or inconsequential. Remember, primary instinct of a male, is animalistic and visual, always....(and your husband is no more morally funded than any other male on that one)...

Choose a Partner Wisely

this tassle,  just because,  it gives the wall added color

You know when you get together with friends, have a few drinks, and reminisce on all the occurrences in your life up to that point in time? Well my story...my story generally blows most people out of the water. Now, I know there are many who have more dramatic tales than mine. The stuff that accumulates in some people's lives no Hollywood screenwriter could ever have come up with.

However, what I think makes mine a good one (story that is) is that I came out, alive, and by all accounts, a well - adjusted, fully functioning, professional member of society. ( I could have been F*****up) It could easily have gone another way. I had hoped to live a life I was proud of, happiest in. When I found that it was not, I found the courage to start all over again. It was the blowing on a dandelion that was destroyed with one wish that everything would get better that started me on a better track, a solo journey.

Feeling deep sobs coming from a hormonal emotional place as I said goodbye that day for the last time, to what was, my married life. The only life I had ever known there was in marriage. I now toast to the half a decade it took to find myself, a period of life, gone, a period now, just beginning. My heart will always be mending, and life does march on.

It's like I close my eyes, hold my breath, and commit to being brave long enough until I've gone too far, to ever turn back.... life gives me goose bumps, and, has at times, given an ache to the pit of my stomach. I opted for the courage to start life all over again, and I will draw on that same courage again, if ever I should need to.

 Put your hand against your heart, and remember, who you choose for a partner, always matters; it can even destroy, or better change your life. Who you choose, always matters.........amid the harshness of absolute candor. Obey your innermost mechanism, the one thats pulls in your gut....I am very thankful for second chances, and second husbands!