XO

Love took on a different meaning when I started reading more about Buddhism & practicing compassion. Buddhism is more that just a photo of Buddha, a Buddha temple, figurine or a tattoo. It’s having an open heart and compassion for others. I’m not going to lie, it’s not always easy to keep your heart open. But it’s worth it.

Love, being supportive & holding compassion is seeing the good in others and their actions instead of the bad. You find the gratitude in things that don’t work out when you want to feel hurt or angered. Truly having love for someone means you’re grateful to get a phone call or message letting you know they’re running late or not able to come rather than see it as an insult they aren’t there. And when you’re apart from others, love helps you find gratitude they aren’t going through their struggles alone and they find time to think of you. To truly have love for someone & be supportive means you don’t seek to hurt them when they don’t live up to your expectations... it’s about give and take. You can’t expect of others to give you the benefit of the doubt when you don’t give them a chance. 

If you don’t love and support others goals & dreams then how can you expect others to support yours? The byproduct of having love, support & compassion for others is much like opening a bottle or can and having it spray on you. Having an abundance of love, support & compassion for others means sometimes you get it all over yourself. Please find more love for yourself and others. 

Here’s something old about give & take...

Enjoy!

kisses, m.

Give into it

6-19-2011

“Give into it” I tell him. 

He still hesitates but says nothing.

He wants to move in but gives nothing more. 

There’s nothing but space between us.

“Feel  it?  You know you want to.” I continue to press.

Instead of answering he tells me “You know you want to move in,” and leans in slightly.

 “Oh but I’m already moving in. Getting close.”

“Then come closer. Ah, but don’t lose your footing.” He tells me.

The same thing again. 

And again. 

We sidestep, around and around. 

Mimicking each other we move. 

Instead of standing side by side we keep spinning face to face. 

 I tell him to stay still and he tells me, “you first” before stepping back.

 I know what I want so I’m willing to go first. 

It’s when he does nothing that I begin to wonder. 

It’s after I start to wonder if this will ever be enough when he moves back in.

His hands taking the lead and pulling me out of my safety net again. 

“Closer. You can do this.” He says. With those words the tone of his voice tells me all I need to know.

“I know I can. But can you?” I tell him. I’m closer than before when his body reacts. 

He says “Closer” to me until I’m near enough to touch his face.

 I’m still with resolve while the air he breathes hits my face.

Resolved to find the calm, I stay still and hold my ground.

“Let me,” he says and takes my hand. 

I let him make the move without stepping back. 

With an instinct, I lose myself to the moment and touch his face. 

My touch precedes his kiss that sends him back a step.

“Give into it” I tell him and pull him closer once again.

Reaching

Not everyone chases or reaches for an obsession. In fact striving to accomplish anything and put your the best into it while having fun isn’t an obsession with perfection at all... More people might find perfection if they’re patient enough to let it come to them. In fact they might realize they’re already pretty rich in all the world can offer them. You see the richest people aren’t those with money or success, they’re the ones who are the most grateful & happy with what they have and know that whatever is coming is simply... perfect. Love yourself.

Here’s one about reaching for perfect... or rather waiting for it. 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Perfection

(9-12-2014)

Perfection.

A single cigarette.

Waiting. 

Wondering.

Watching.

It's my idea of perfect. 

Waiting to give him pleasure.

After a long day he's wasted more time.

Time & minutes I can count as the cigarette ashes fall to the ground.

Silently I listen to the sound of smoke.

Filling the air.

Touching my bare skin.

Goose flesh.

Hard nipples. 

Nothing like being bare waiting for his touch.

Bad wig.

No need.

I'm taking it off. 

Taking it all off for his pleasure. 

The cool air dances across my skin.

I watch the infrared glow of the lights in the darkroom.

I've left the door ajar.

Carried away thinking of him.

Film can wait for developing.

The flavor in my mouth can't wait.

Tasting him with his favorite smoke in my mouth.

Thinking of his hands running across my ass makes me wonder how long I've been waiting.

When I think I've been waiting far too long. 

I know it's not long enough. 

The clock is still ticking up to six.

Tick. Tock.

Hips rock.

Legs shake.

Can't wait.

So I sit.

The seat of his chair is cool.

Soft to the touch of my legs.

Anticipation.

Take a drag.

And rest.

Just my smoke.

Circling.

Leaning back I think of his smile.

That dirty grin that lets me know he's in.

He's in. 

Deep in my mind.

Just watching for me to react.

I can't help but react.

Wanting the one thing that makes my heart jump. 

Him.

His fingers touching my bare skin. 

Sliding them gently up my legs until they reach my ass and spine. 

Once he circles my breasts I remind him with my mouth that the pleasure is all mine. 

All mine to please him. 

Pleasing him with my hands across his waist. 

My lips trailing across his neckline. 

Removing his clothes to nurture his tired body

Letting my hands wander downward along his chest until they find home.

My free hand is already occupied thinking and wanting his body.

Outside movements stir and shake my mind back to now.

My body knows. 

The sound of the key in the door

Sends shivers up my spine.

A quiver in my lip.

I hold back from running over to greet him.

Wait for that grin.

The sheer pleasure of watching him walk into the room and look at me with his hair slightly covering his face...

Perfection.

Red

Red is such a fabulous color... passion, love, blood, etc. There’s no denying its presence when you are brought face to face with it. 

Spiritually red auras are significant of the physical body, in particular the blood, because it represents our physical life force and red is an action color.

Here’s a story about seeing red... wine.

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Didn’t

(4-6-2011)

Some girls will take no for answer.

Not this one.

Not this time.

“I didn’t have a choice,” is what he thought as he steadied the razor sharp shards of glass in his hand. The length of the puddle ran the length of his restless arm as it moved. Her head lay split wide open to reveal the slow thickness of blood spilling outward onto the Italian marble floor. The red on white tile was a startling contrast to his eyes. Trying to convince himself that there was no other way Victor pulled another shard from her lifeless body. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Over and over he kept thinking that there was something else he could have done. But there was no other way to do it because Carmen never gave anyone a choice.

When she wanted something she went after it full throttle.

Carmen Sandoval was the kind of girl you wanted to hang out with. She was pretty, tall, slender, big breasted and all the guys wanted to fuck her. And most of them probably did. Asking Carmen out meant one thing to everyone in the neighborhood and Victor knew it. That’s what made it hard to believe when he did it. Victor wasn’t the type of guy that followed when all the others did. But today Victor Vargas was the guy that got to hang out with her.

Victor Vargas was hardly a man with gumption. If Carmen hadn’t asked him for help with her flat tire in the middle of the parking lot at the grocer’s they might have never met. And if they had never met Victor was quite certain they never would have spent more than five minutes in the same room, let alone in the same company.

At least that’s what he thinks. In the back of his mind Victor wanders through the moments trying to piece together the puzzle of what happened before this moment where he’s standing over the bloody mess.  Like the missing parts of a dream he can barely recall the details of her before it happened.

The bare parts of her body look saintly in stillness. A purity that remains absent from the fragments of his memory that fall back together in his mind. With his eyes following the bloody line between her upper torso and lower hip bone Victor realizes that he warned her from the start. She didn’t heed his warning. Even though he was hardly to blame for what happened, somewhere in his mind he remembered giving a warning.

“I’m not a courageous man,” he told her when she invited him out. And he wasn’t. But Carmen didn’t listen to him when he said it. This was because women never listened to Victor. It was something he’d grown accustomed to over the years. Now Victor couldn’t say he didn’t mind because he did. He simply wanted to know about her when he accepted the invitation. And as she rambled on about sex and drugs he wanted her to know what he was about.

“Don’t expect me to do something that I’m not going to.” He interrupted her talking and talking with plans about what’s going to happen next. While walking to the house Carmen had it all worked out and Victor couldn't be in more disagreement when they reached the door.

“I didn’t mean to turn you on.”

 “Didn’t. So many things that you didn’t mean to do. Well it’s a shame now that it has to be this way. You’re staying for a drink.” She says.

“I’m going to go. It was fun. Maybe another…”

“Victor. I’m sorry. You don’t have to. Don’t. Stay.” she pleads.

But the words may as well be silent because he knew that nothing could change. Especially not with her.

He’d gone along with the evening despite knowing what Carmen was like. Victor kept hoping for a chance to know her. To see a change in her that showed a different side that never came. He knew what she was like when he took her home and in fact it was the one time when Victor was certain that NO meant no as she plead with him further. Good night was all he had in mind, but that was anything but what she wanted when she asked him to stay for a drink.

What she wanted happened in the kitchen next to the stove next to a drawer full of knives. It could have been the knives but it wasn’t and it happened faster than Victor had time to take it all in. Carmen opened a bottle of red wine, poured a glass  and reached for his hand. At least he thought it was his hand she wanted when the glass dropped and  she quickly made her move for his pants. Victor didn’t have to do it but he did. He moved. A slight step to the right and she wasn’t paying attention when the base of her heel went out from under her in the liquid.

Back, back, back she fell into the golden pool of foamy wetness to meet her end.

As the color of red washed over her beautiful face, Victor wondered if there was more to Carmen than her oversexed libido. He suddenly wanted to know about her. And it was too late for all that when she stopped breathing. “I didn’t have a choice because you didn’t give me a chance.”  And with that Victor Vargas lay the sharp glass down gently with his sharp words before saying goodnight.  

Telephone

Instead of wasting words, thoughts or traveling distances to engage with people you hate... give your energy to those you love and those who love you back. If you haven’t used the phone to make a call to talk to someone in your thoughts or that you care about... make time. 

Words and thoughts are the most powerful gifts you have within you. They can lift and also tear down. What you say to yourself and to others carries more weight than you think. Use your gifts wisely. 

Here’s one about the phone from the last year... 

When was the last time you used a landline telephone? 

Kisses, m.

4:01 p.m.

(5-24-17)

 

It’s 4:01 p.m.

 

The ticking of the clock is no match for the pounding sound of my heart as the cool air of the afternoon blows against my hot skin. Less than a minute has passed since the phone ringing pierced the silent house. Black mascara tears stream down my face as he speaks faster than my mind can keep up. I would stop him from telling me but I can not force words from my lips. You can live in the wreckage of the moment, but it’s no longer the dream house you remembered. All you can do is pull yourself out of the rubble and slowly rebuild yourself. The important thing when you get stuck in the collapse of moment is force yourself to move on. 

 

Moving is all I can do as I clutch the telephone tighter. Things can only wear you down and try to break your spirit if you let them. A sobbing breath escapes my lips and it’s all I need to do to make him stop talking. He pauses and calmly starts.

 

“Hey, are you ok? How are you?”

 

“I was going to call you sooner.” My voice shakes.

 

“But you didn’t and…”

 

And I didn’t. Simply hearing his voice say it breaks me into tears again. I can’t control my reaction to anything he’s said about his day, about his work and it doesn’t change that it has nothing to do with the way I’m feeling in this moment. 

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Meltdown?”

 

“Sort of.”

 

“Ok. Let’s do that thing? 5 things; GO!”

 

“Clock, phone, oven, skylight, applesauce.”

 

“You bought it!” 

 

“Applesauce! Yes and a handful of peaches for garnish!”

 

Without another word, my tears are dry and I can feel his smile on the other end of the line.

 

It’s 4:15 p.m.

Money

Money isn’t everything. It can’t buy you love, friends or happiness. It’s just money. Some give it away or throw it away. Take a hard look at things and remove the money. Would you still value the people & things in your life without the money they give you or you give them? All relationships with people matter before the money and if not maybe it’s time for a re-evaluation of yourself.

I simply don’t treat people as money. You can throw away money, it’s not the same with people. You have to dust them off and pick them up on occasion when they’ve lost their way. People aren’t replaceable & it’s not cool to use them in love, friendship and even in business. 

Here’s a story about using others & treating them as disposable...

Do you replace people or reduce them to something you use?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Disposable

(2-17-2011)

Ephraim Rybe was a man who knew that nothing lasts forever. Because of this knowledge he wasted no time with anything. Ephraim kept himself moving at a constant rate to take it all in. He firmly believed that if you stayed in one place too long you might miss what’s coming next. Moderately the world moved around while Ephraim sped through it. He felt that everyone and everything was a portion sized serving meant for consumption at the most appropriate time. Everything in its specific amount of time. No more. No less.

And he came to this understanding by a lesson life once handed him. A lesson that no one ever forgets. Ephraim had once been engaged to a lovely young woman. A beauty known throughout any and all of his circles. However, it was not to last. The young woman decidedly broke the agreement for their pending nuptials and left Ephraim moving on and on by wanting less and less.

Despite his unfulfilled destiny, Ephraim Rybe had been known to be quite the ladies man in certain circles. A many times confirmed bachelor he had a new gal pal on his arm every week. And it wasn’t for a lack of interest in the opposite sex that he continued in this manner. In fact it was Ephraim’s distinct fascination with women that kept his interest peaked consistently.

More.

Some women will tell you they love a man with ambition. That it’s refreshing to meet a man that knows wants and wants more of it. Ephraim Rybe wasn’t that sort of man. He always wanted more but less and less of what was involved in that equation. He was never satisfied by one woman when he could have five, six, seven or eight. Tonya, Felicia, Amber, Tiffany, Renee, Sandy, Mae, Claire. There were so many more than he often kept a list. The list continued onward and grew by five more every time one name dropped off.

A man will tell you that his idea of a perfect woman might be the combination of some supermodels with a few characteristics of his mom. And Ephraim Rybe wasn’t one of those men. He didn’t believe in the existence of a perfect woman for him. The idea of some epitomized goddess seemed like complete horseshit when he had his list. Ephraim repeatedly thought why settle on one when there’s always the next girl to fill that void. At current he could decidedly pick from a few different girls to fulfill these needs that other men want in one.

If he wanted to bed a supermodels ass he could call Christine. When needing to talk about his feelings with a sensitive matron he could dine with Anna. For the eyes and lips of an angel came Claudia. An ideal woman mattered very little when he could have a single serving portion of variation whenever he wanted. And soon enough he would be rotating in another set. The changeover had become a necessary a change routine. Some women loose their charm the same way eating the same meal does. There wasn’t an exact science to it, only that they needed to go when they lost their flavor. And it was never the quite the same flaw.

Some had too much hair while others had too little. Some appeared tall while they were really short. Others had laughs like hyenas when others giggled in a way that sounded like a drowning puppy. It wasn’t that any of those things made then unattractive. It wasn’t that at all, it was only an excuse to move onto something else.

To ask this man what he wanted from these women would be meaningless. He wanted nothing in particular from any of these girls, only to make sure that there would always be one coming next. Beat the disposable woman to the plate. Leave her before she can leave you. And he had it down to a science. From the looks of any new woman he could tell you how long he’d spend time with her. Knowing full well how long he would take before he used her up. Ephraim didn’t care if a woman knew she was getting the boot. He figured he was gifting her with some knowledge. In a sort of sick way he thought he was sparing a woman the trouble of getting attached when things were already over.

Next.

Onto the next one. And without much to it, I just so happened to be next. The next on his list. I happen to have had my fair share of experience dating men with eccentricities.  Although none of which included beating someone to the punch of heartbreak. To be perfectly honest, “no” wasn’t an option with Ephraim. Ephraim pressed and pursued very insistent that I be at the top of his agenda. When Ephraim told me that our involvement would last exactly two dates and a few rolls in the sack, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. So I laughed even though Ephraim seemed quite serious. But I went along with it.

Going with the ride longer than he said. Long enough to know about the others which soon revealed more than I needed to know about the situation. You see there are some men who will tell you that they’re seeing other people. While others will lie about it. And then some want to pretend that there’s nothing before you happened to them because its taboo. Ephraim wasn’t at all like that. He kept things as real as possible. Too much real as a matter of fact. He nodded and smiled when he said there were others. It wasn’t news to me, but I could hardly contain what it all meant until he explained.

On an interesting cab ride back to his place, Ephraim took the time, that he never takes to explain about the others. Others that shouldn’t have been mentioned but needed to be explained once they had. And I insisted on knowing and encouraging. A curiosity that couldn’t be quenched once he’d mentioned it.

Something that I didn’t need to know as it never left my mind. The thought of being disposable and simply replaceable seemed to overwhelm my mind with thoughts that didn’t matter. The openness of his confession put him at ease and sent me wondering. I was consumed by the growing thought that nothing I did mattered in the slightest as he was already three deep into his next list of women.

The last night while he leaned in to kiss my neck, I sat thinking about Ephraim talk about the next one, Shelly or Sheila before telling me about Olga the dancer he had met after lunch with Hera. Somewhere between lunch and dinner, he’d been making arrangements with another woman and all I’d been doing was deciding what shoes matched with my new dress. My attention to him was disposable. It had simply been a choice of who to take home tonight.

Where did I fit on this uninvolved man’s list of disposable creatures? Not that it mattered in the slightest. His hands between my thighs mattered in the least. They mattered as much as which number of choice my Spinach salad ala carte with raspberry vinaigrette had been from dinner.

Ephraim wasted no time moving downward with his focus. Already thinking ahead, quickly his kisses found their way to my legs and I let him keep moving inward to work. It wouldn’t be long before it was over and I was merely someone else. And the more and more he pressed into things, the more I wondered about his list of women.

Even when Ephraim was moving his mouth in a rhythm all his own inside of me, I kept wondering the same thing: Would he be doing this dance with the dancer tomorrow night or the next. To Ephraim this was practice and preparation for the next act, with Olga, Hera, Shelly or someone else. When it became clear to me that I was no one’s trial run, I would get what I came for and leave him with none.

Closer and closer until the moment of release comes and goes. His arms find themselves around my waist when I say “Thank you, that was amazing. I’m done” and sweetly pat his face. His eyes look with alarm and his heart starts to race. Ephraim says “it’s my turn?” with the serious stare. His lips trembling waiting for something else when I tell him “there’s none.” So I tell him “I really have to go but I’ll get you later. Maybe next time. You understand?” and watch his thoughts crawl inside his head. I wait for something, anything to be said. When there is nothing I tell him “thank you again for understanding. I’m sure you can make other plans. After all you have Olga, Hera or Shelly.”  What more could a man need? And with that thought I left that impermanent man with his list of disposable women.

While Ephraim Rybe was too busy worrying about missing what would happen next he completely missed it without a thought of permanence because he couldn’t understand the meaning of disposable when it looked him back in the face.

Finding...

Everyone has the potential to love. There’s already love within you. Yeah it’s always been there.  You find it, nurture it and eventually decide you’re ready to share your love with others. Some people take a while longer realizing the love within. Don’t waste time looking for love in others... find it in yourself first. Love is found on the other side of Love. Trust & Love yourself. 

Here’s a love poem from my book A Love Found.

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Patient ~ Desire 

(10-15-2015)

Waiting.

Living.

Anticipating.

Knowing someday 

You'll find me.

These feelings grow 

In your absence. 

Longing for something

That has yet to be.

My heart

Wounded intentionally 

By imposters  
Aches.

Reassured only that it

Belongs truly to you.

Comforted by thoughts
Of when you'll be here.

I make my way forward 

Trusting that you'll reach me.

My heart starts to beat

Thinking of the sight of you.

I catch my breathe. 

Thinking of your touch.

I'm alive by mere thoughts

Of you

In my mind.

In you 

I've found myself desiring

The one thing 

I'm afraid of most.

To be possessed

Tied down and

Obedient to...

Someone.

~m.

The Best

Some of my favorite moments are best remembered... The best moments are simply lived. Sometimes not taking a photograph is the best way to remember them. 

Do you waste a moment with a picture? Or just enjoy it! 

Here’s something about moments...

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Moment

Time stopped when I first saw you.

You were an unfamiliar man but I felt like I’d always known you.

As you walked towards me

I couldn’t even remember to take a breathe. And then you spoke and I was alive again.

There’s no photo to remind me of how you looked that night but I can’t ever forget,

The specialness of you.

The wrinkle in your smile.

Matched the twinkle in your eye.

The dominance in your stance.

Excitement in your voice.

You remain in a piece of my mind & heart that I hope will always be...

A moment.

One

What you think is new isn’t new and profound has already been pondered. Someone has lived before and will live after you but... There’s only one of you. Every one of you. All sides & parts within you still just one. The duality of man & woman is only created because he/she chooses not to be one. When mankind is ready to work as one uniform mass then the world will change. And as the same when a person chooses to be one with all their parts then they will be strongest. Love yourself. 

Here’s a new story about blood...

Are you united or divided with yourself?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Blood Thieves

 

There’s not much blood involved when your heart breaks. It just breaks. Wound doesn’t require tending like other injuries. Just the same you can’t just take a man’s heart without spilling a little blood along the way. And while there’s nothing more potent with love than the blood of woman with a broken heart, you can’t go around hurting pretty girls to get it. Love is a magical thing and damn the fool that takes a woman’s love for granted because someone like me is bound to come collecting on it.

 

Thieves don’t bother taking hearts often. Stealing a man’s heart is tricky business as most women will attest to. However, most dames won’t tell you that they weren’t after the heart when they walked away with it. I ended up with my fair share of hearts to barter off because a dame didn’t know what to do with it once she didn’t need it anymore. 

 

But tonight my bounty is different. Vita Reveille had a man break her heart so bad that some say she never quite recovered. Aloicious Ridore  left her with nothing… except her blood. Now he wants her blood because the despicable cretin is in love with someone new. It’s too despicable to think of what he’ll do with her blood but I know all too well that my customers aren’t the most delicate of humans. 

 

Some say Vita still loves him something fierce despite all the pain and heartache he caused her by robbing her and running off with her maid. But I’m hoping to the contrary that her broken heart has healed itself so I can forfeit my bounty. The problem with working for the bad guy is that sometimes you get involved in something you shouldn’t have. It’s not fair but it’s the way it is. When you live by a honor code between thieves you don’t rightly get too many opportunities to do the right thing.

 

As most men will tell you, the moment you lay eyes on a woman you know you want to find a way to keep her around or get rid of her because she never leaves your mind. The night I met Vita was like that. She was nursing her heart with a glass of whiskey and I was waiting to collect the bartender’s spine. Something about Vita made me grant the bartender another day. Maybe it was the way she smiled through her tears or the way she made heartache sound like a love story. Sure enough broken heart or not, she is the kindness person I’ve ever come across. I was pretty certain I’d do everything in my power to protect her except I couldn’t double-cross my bounty.

 

Some men have enemies and Aloicious had plenty including one crazy enough to gamble with me. He was a greek man named Stavros Grivas and eager to raise the bounty. He’d had business with Aloicious that resulted in the loss of his right eye. Now the code tends to look the other way when a bigger bounty comes along and Stavros made it hard to resist. 

 

“Whichever woman loves this scoundrel more, this is the woman’s heart you will bring to him.” Stavros says through a thick accent, before having his servant fetch a large knife. “Blood is needed for this magic. And we will agree in blood.”

 

“Understood,” I firmly take the knife and slice into the servant before handing the blade back to Stavros, who guts the man further for the sacrifice. 

“Now that it is done, we shake. We are thieves bonded in a blood oath.”

 

“How long before this spell takes effect.” 

 

“It is done.” Stavros said wiping the blood from his hands. “Leave until I need you again, thief.” 

 

Almost as soon as I left his company I felt it, I felt something in my soul more powerful than I’d ever felt before. Love. And it wasn’t my love. It was love for me and it was the most invigorating sensation. It was then I knew, I had Vita’s heart as soon as she’d laid eyes on me. Her blood raced through my veins with more power than I could ever imagine. And I knew exactly what I had to do….

 

Aloicious Ridore looked mighty surprised to wake up to Vita standing over his bed with his paramour’s heart in her hand but she knew much as I did that there’s no honor when you come across thieves.