If The Name Fits

...and it does. Mr. Rose is a "Good Man." I was re-reading old posts last night and realized that Mr. Rose most definitely fits the bill. I even called him up and read it to him. He started laughing and said that I was describing him. WOW!!! I found one. I knew they existed somewhere in the dating jungle, but I just didn't know where they were hiding.

The thing is (drum roll please) he's not from Oz. Nothing against y'all from the Emerald City, but this Dorothy likes them from hills. Well, at least I like this one from the hills. And yes, I really, and I mean really, like him. OK, OK, I guess it's time for me to finally say it... I like him a lot!! Psych!!!

Fine I'll say it. The words that I am dancing around are... I love him.

You heard it here first. I love Mr. Rose. I didn't plan on it happening, but it did just the same. The man has won my heart... completely. And here comes the kicker, I don't just love him, I'm in love with him. He makes me feel beautiful, safe and loved. I trust him. I know that I've written it before about him in my blog, but the love just grows. This love feels like it's settling in my heart or maybe putting in roots. It's simple and strong.

It's so funny how with the other men I dated it was so easy for me to write that I might love them, but now with him it's different. It's just so personal. It's something special. UGH!!! That sounds so trite and just... UGH!!! What I'm trying to say is that it's, it's something that just he and I share.

I don't know if I'm making any sense. Some of you might understand. Anyway, that's also why I haven't written about our sex life. Kind of weird, isn't it? I will say this. His kisses make me disappear, chills run down my spine and my skin burns at his touch. I've never felt like this before. No man has ever, ever made me feel like this. I'm just so glad that it's him because otherwise I'd have a problem... hee hee ;)

Over My Shoulder

Mr. Rose is sitting next to me as I write. He has access to my blog, but doesn't visit. He wants to give me my privacy. Anyway, I was showing him something and he noticed that in my "about me" it stated that I was thirty-something. Oh boy! He kinda got on me about that. I turned 40 a couple months back.

The funny thing is that when Mr. Rose would first answer his friends questions about me he made me 40. He didn't want people to think there was that great an age difference. Not that it feels like there is any disparity in the way we view the world because of how old we are. Soooooo... I kinda got on him about making me older and he's now returning the favor.

He knows how I feel about honesty too. So there you go.... I'm 40. Of course, I still act like I'm 16.

btw- Mr. Rose just turned another year older himself this week. I think that might be the reason for his even noticing the age thing. ttytt-I don't even notice the age difference, BUT I love to tease him about it.

one more thing Mr. Rose just realized why the post wasn't posting... it said pm not am. Ya just gotta love the man!!!!!

Trying To Forget

I've been trying to forget him. It hasn't been working too well, but maybe now it will. It's good-bye.

I wrote these two posts before. I put one up and took it down... hoping.



Surprised

That he didn't say good-bye.

But should I be? What else am I to think?

There is so much to write and say that the words are stuck in my chest and have started climbing to my throat along with the ache. I won't allow it to go any further. I'll swallow it down. I won't allow myself to hurt like this. I won't have to worry about hanging in limbo.

Maybe it was all of my own making. Maybe I saw more in him than was really there. Maybe it's just not meant to be. Maybe he just discovered who I really was or thinks he has. Maybe he has too much going on. Maybe he's just too tired, lazy, afraid or doesn't feel what he thought was there. And maybe I shouldn't be coming up with excuses for him. He's just not that into me. That's it... plain and simple.

I opened myself up to him more than I have done with any other man I've known, felt more for him than I thought was possible. I'm glad I did. I hope he has a good life and will be happy. I know that I will.

Goodbye



I'm Not So Smart

Sometimes, I'm just not so smart. I don't need to be hit over the head with a baseball bat to realize that someone just doesn't feel the same way. Yeah, I'm beating myself up.

I just thought... I just thought he cared the way I did. It shouldn't hurt to know that he doesn't. It should make me feel better. It should make me feel relieved and even happy, but it doesn't. I'll miss him.

He made me smile and feel good inside. But then he also made me cry. I just wasn't going to do it in front of him. I never felt that way for someone, and there's no way in hell I'm going to let myself feel that way again. It just hurts too much.

I'm going to forget him, and everything about him.

I'm strong. I may not be smart sometimes, but I'm strong enough to get through this. And I'm not stupid enough to let myself get hurt like this again. I wish I didn't feel. I wish the pain would just leave the way he has. It hurts.

I know that I deserve someone who wants me. But you know what, I don't think I'm going to open myself up to that.

My Friend, Petey

I’m so silly, and I’m so lucky. I’m lucky that I have a good friend. Let’s call him Petey. He makes me laugh and always has, even though his jokes are so, so, so very horrible. He listens. And not only that he has the answers to my questions. That is a major feat!!!

Petey explains and reminds me of things that I should be able to know and remember by myself. My emotions sometimes get in the way. The funny thing is that sometimes we are both talking about someone or something completely different than what the other one thinks and yet his advice still seems to apply. It's obvious that we're both strange. Yes, Petey, you're strange, but you knew that already.

He helps me keep my head on straight, and not get into too much trouble. I get lectures sometimes (alright, about once a week) on different matters, and it doesn’t bother me in the least. It means he cares, and I appreciate it.

He gets me to laugh while I’m in the middle of crying. OK, OK, it’s not that difficult to do. And yes, I already know I’m weird. Just about everyone who's ever read my blog can attest to that.

I guess the real reason for this post is so that I can say, "Thank you, Petey. And I'll bet you a nickel you never figure out why I called you that."

btw- Your offer to call blew me away.

He Called

He called. Cowboy that is.

But don't ask me what's going on. I don't think either of us know.

It was enough for now just to hear the voice I love so much.

The Message

I listened to it three times, and then saved it so I could listen to it again. It was a rough afternoon for me, and Cowboy just happened to call 5 minutes after all the craziness was going on. I was angry, upset, sad, frustrated, and so much more. Anyway, it all worked out in the end, plus I got this funny message from him.

Listening to his happy voice, smiling in my ear, his laughter while he's teasing me, knowing that he could get away with it, and that it would only make me smile... saying those words and both of us knowing that it's true.

There's so much to say, but it's all mishkibibbled up in my mind. But that message made me laugh and want to fly hundreds of miles just to kiss him for leaving it. Of course, if I flew that many miles I would end up doing more than kiss him. C'mon, what do you expect??? It's me, and well, let's just say he does it for me, and I'd like to do it for and to him.

OK, OK, I've got sex on the brain tonight, and no comments from you smartasses saying that I'm always thinking about sex (even though it may be true). Ummmm, it's just that he encourages these thoughts, and I can't and don't want to resist. How can I resist anyway??? He's got THE VOICE. Maybe that's what I should have called him instead of Cowboy. Too bad, I'm not going to go changing his name now.

Back to his kisses... Yeah, I know. I haven't kissed him... yet. But I know what they'll be like, and how my knees will get weak and I'll have to hold onto him even tighter so that I won't fall with his voice whispering in my ear.

Hmmm, it looks like it's time for me to stop writing, but I won't stop thinking about his hands on me. I've got a good imagination... a very good imagination.

Easy

He makes it easy... easy to talk to, to tell him things I've never told anyone... easy to laugh and cry with, easy to care about, and easy to write about. There's a comforting warm feeling that I get in my chest when I think of him. It's contentment.

Anyway, remember that I wrote two nights ago that it's hard not to be able to call him anytime I would like and most especially to say good-night. He called me late last night to specifically say goodnight to me. I fell asleep while dreaming of being in his arms, hearing his deep sweet voice and with a soft smile on my lips.

What I'm trying to say is that he listens to me, and then tries to make me happy. I don't have to shout things from the mountain top to get his attention. He's standing right there next to me in the clouds.

Yes, I like to dream. I like to hope for better things... for safety, happiness, love, and it's easy to do this with him around. Don't get me wrong. I'm also realistic, which does make the dreaming difficult at times. There are no guarantees in life. I won't make any promises, and I HATE it when people try to promise me something. I guess today is a day for cliches so here comes another one. Promises are made to be broken.

Tell me you will try your best. I will take you at your word and understand if something doesn't quite work out the way you said it was going to. But just don't promise me anything. The disappointment that I feel when the promise is broken carries over into my not being able to trust you in the future.

It's kind of obvious that I've been promised things before or maybe not even promised just told that things would take place and I've been let down. The worst thing about it is that I get angry at myself too when this happens. I blame myself for trusting someone's word again. It makes me feel stupid, not just hurt.

Oh, no! I said the "S" word. It's a word that we don't say in our family. When DB gets really angry or upset he sometimes shouts "I JUST WANNA SAY THE "S" WORD!!!" Of course, I'm trying my very best not to burst out laughing when he does this.

He's too cute, and he would be infuriated to know that I called him that. He's getting older and wants to be cool. I've caught him a couple of times looking at himself pose in the mirror... turning his baseball cap around, crossing his arms over his chest, slouching a little and putting his hands in his pockets.

He doesn't realize that the fact that he sticks up for his friends, and also doesn't let them walk all over him make him pretty cool just as he is... sure do love the darlin' boy. And I really do like the darlin' man.

Left Out

Somehow this one got left out of yesterday's post with the other songs.

I really like this video...


but Bonnie Raitt's voice really does the song justice.

So Much To Write

Yeah, yeah. I know. I've been lax in my writing. Sorry about it, y'all. It's not that I haven't been thinking about writing and even writing a bit. Just haven't finished anything that I've started. I've got a lot of great beginnings though.

So what is this post about? I'm asking myself that same question. I heard a quote attributed to Wordsworth, googled and read the poem it was in and other ones. I started thinking about love. There are many different kinds, and they impact on us in different ways.

Hope and joy walk together
with open arms
through the sounds of angels
earning their wings

tearful smiles lead to an easy sleep
on a bed of stars in midnight blue
the power to continue
dreaming of him softens
jagged edges

Hope From Hurt

Pain oozing from an open wound
and tears rinse the hatred from my soul.
A band aid cannot cover the sore
of my child's hurt, and
prayers cannot protect us.

I believe that it will end
and we will survive
with a joyous rain of giggles
floating through the air like rainbow bubbles
The rays of comfort and safety warming us into a blackened night while
we rest peacefully covered by blankets of twinkling love.

Band Aids And Thread OR A Work In Progress

Is a good marriage just an oxymoron?
Is a marriage just an acceptance of disappointment?

How come romantic movies always
end at beginnings,
weddings,
first kisses,
or the start of a relationship?

Shaped by worn tools of prejudices
molded into sculptures of marble lovers
stone cold
beating hearts stilled and
cemented onto broken dreams.

Is it possible to get joy out of life without tears?
Perhaps the ache is better than boredom and dissatisfaction.

Dreaming of others' lives
wishing for their's in hope that life has more to offer
and at least some have grabbed hold of the golden apple.

Is there truly acceptance, love, comfort showered from open arms
and minds
willing to understand the anger and pain
or instead only reminded of their own salted wounds

Is fulfillment found in arms
searching
looking
wanting
more than what is predestined?

ignoring the loss and moving forward
drawn by magnets of hope
into doors of shining eyes

gazing up at a heaven filled with gods
put there by men's imagination
followed through seas and travels for treasure

yearning for something to fill the black hole that burns within
pearls and colored gems fill the void but for a moment
and the expansiveness grows in the empty souls

Words written by lonely hearts and tears twinkling
in an empty face fuzzed by clouds in my mind.

Wishing for a different life... that may not be better.
longing to live in fiction of heroes and strength.

closing off hiding my soul and the hurt covered with smiles and laughter smothered for appearances sake. aaaah does my soul ache? do I wish for a rescue? I long to repair


a child sitting a mother's bed crying for the world
hunger and war.
the pain did not start there I remember years before.
battling children in a line trying to beat my joy, hope and life.
No tears from my eyes
as they were comforted by teacher's hugs
my skin toughened by their taunts

friendly books
young wishing
for love without the knowledge of it
the emptiness grew until it swallowed me whole.

drawn out of it's depths by resolve and
laughter floating me past
thorns reaching alive with their grasp
yanking tugging ripping the life and joy
out of my eyes
dulling them with disappointment of past loves.

chained to mountains of emptiness.
ripped open by



I can't remember why I called this poem Band Aids And Thread. I know why band aids, but not thread. It also appears that it is a couple of poems.... I need to work on it, but I also want it posted. So you guys can see the transformation of words into my feelings and imagination.

I wrote this in mid-August and have edited some of it.... more to come

Empty Seat

There's an empty seat next to mine

filled on occasion

with dreams of

laughter

love

tears

and anger

but most importantly

hope

for the man who might

sit next to me

I, Sure As Hell, Can Move That Rubber Tree Plant!!!

Yes, I have it. I don't know how. I don't know why. But I still have hope.

Haven't written in awhile. Well, for me it seems that awhile would be a week (the personality post was just copied not written). I've been aching for it and running from it at the same time.


Hope has resurfaced
and floated to the top of my algae covered world.

Untying the knots of tears and sobs,
it rises above torturing ropes of desperation
as they sink to the forgotten murk of bitter memories.
Confusion and Grief drown it in salty rivers
Torment and Questioning reach out their claws
dragging it under,
nibbled at by scavengers of rationality

struggling through the labyrinth of self-pity
chased by doubt
it slides back to the twists and turns in my brain
forgetting that hurt is not thought but felt


Hope squeezes through the cracks of desperation in my heart
warmed by sunlight music
dancing through the swirl of muddy feet stomping their pain in defiance

Treasure dragged from the deeps, wrapped in prayers of soiled velvet
bringing jeweled smiles and golden bells of laughter
bubbling to the surface
Buoys of angel's wings guide it
My soul following it's lightened journey
the dissipating pain sweetening my despair
till I can swallow acceptance


Hope survives

the hammers of sorrow
to save
my dreams of sanctuary