So Much

 I have so much to share and the feeling of needing to get it all down is pressing.  I find if I don’t write it while it is fresh in mind then it flutters away on the winds.

This past weekend was my one year anniversary with Mr. D.  One year since meeting him and opening the door wide to a world of exploration with him.

I posted two poems on Saturday.  The Becoming Us poem was Mr. D’s gift to me on our anniversary.  I was so touched and filled with emotion at his beautiful words.  Usually, when he writes, I hold those words close to my heart for a while keeping them private.  At some point, the need to share them here grows greater than my need to cherish them in my own privacy.  When Mr. D sat me down to write on Saturday, I thought I would write of Friday night.  What came out, however, was a poem.  That was the other poem I posted Saturday, Falling.  Once, those words were on the page it seemed fitting to publish the two together.

Tonight Mr. D asked me what I meant in the first part of Falling because it concerned him. That brought something to mind for me about poetry.  When I write a poem, I want to share words and emotions in a different way than prose.  Rather than telling a detailed story, in poetry I strive for imagery. When I begin to write, I let it flow out of me unhinged in a flood.  Afterwards, I read through and hone the language and the imagery.  I have no idea how others do it nor do I have any training. I allow raw feeling with poetry.  When I edit it, I usually remove the wordiness.  I want it distilled to the raw sense, no wordy explanation to mire the flow.

What can happen with this method, clearly, is my meaning can be up to interpretation.  It can mean several things exactly because I’ve stripped it down.  That is what happened here.

I wrote that I had fallen.  I fell in love with Mr. D a year ago.  I wrote that I continue to fall.  Recently, I’ve felt a resurgence of being in love with him.  Our love has deepened and taken on more colors of the spectrum for me. I likened the falling to an endless well. Sometimes, I slow in the descent and feel at peace, content, our relationship as a comfort. The floor rises up and bouys me. No longer am I falling.  But then something happens, some event or nuance and again I feel the falling sensation again. The thing about falling in love, just like any falling, is that it has fearsome qualities.  At one moment, falling can be a thrill like flying but then it turns and becomes a fearful falling like jumping off a cliff.  There is risk involved especially for those of us that have been hurt before. Experience is a quirky thing, it can show us oh so brightly where our scars are located.

In the poem I said that fear is my comfort.  Rather than running from it, I have made the conscious decision to embrace it. I’m past running from my fears.  I did that.  It didn’t get me anywhere good.  So, these days, if It comes down to fight or flight then I am putting my toes on the line.  Whatever Mr. D and this life of ours together brings, I’m taking it. I love that he pushes my buttons.  I want to feel every damned emotion he brings me.  It is an incredible gift I’ve been given to share myself with this man, with this Dominant man.  I’m not going to leave half that gift on the table because I’m scared.  

I want to share every emotion with him.  I want to submit fully to him. I want to orgasm for him.  I want to let down every wall buried inside me.  I want it scary and raw and completely open. 

Image by You Mee used with permission through CC 2.0 and found here

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