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Tag Archives: hopeful

A Dream Worth Having

26 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Dreams

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Dreams, hopeful, Love, romantic

I don’t dream often, normally my nights are sleepless or slithered with nightmares. But once in a rare while I dream, and once in an even rarer while I have a dream worth dreaming. This is one such dream.

Slowly my eyes opened, for a brief moment I wasn’t sure where I was. The world comes to focus and I realize I am in my room, in my bed. Still feeling a bit lost I look to my left and there you are, lying next to me, looking at me. For a moment I was confused, but quickly it felt… right.

I don’t know how long you had been watching me, but when you saw my eyes open a smile that was sad and delicate spread across your face. But your eyes… I was feeling myself getting pulled in. They were so sad, but God so fucking beautiful. I reached over and gently brushed a stray hair from your face, as much as an excuse to touch you as to push away the hair. You didn’t say a word, just closed the already short gap, leaning in to kiss me. 

Your lips, somehow both so familiar – as if they were the only lips I had ever known, and so electric – as if I had never felt or tasted anything so perfect. Soft and deep, it felt like the kiss lasted a lifetime, our tongues slipping carefully, deliberately in and around each other, as if each movement was vital, each moment was essential.

When you pulled away your smile went from sad to real, a subtle change that most would have missed, but I felt right down to my core. Both of us naked under the covers you climbed on top me, looking down at me, our eyes locked, your hair draped down cascading over me, almost as if it were blocking out the rest of the world.

We stared into each others eyes for a while, finally, I broke the silence and whispered your name. You leaned down, the tip of your nose playfully, lovingly caressing the tip of mine. I couldn’t help but feel your nipples hard against my chest, swaying slightly as you rocked gently left and right, almost a slight erotic dance, your eyes never leaving mine.

Rocking, you are pressed against me and I am so hard I can’t wait anymore, so I slide my hands down slowly, starting at your shoulders, breasts, down to your hips where I grip firmly, lifting you up and settling down onto me. Slowly, easing you down as if I knew I needed to savor each moment, each fraction of an inch as you lowered until finally, I was completely, deeply inside of you. Biting your lower lip I could see the urgency building in your eyes and knew you could see the hunger in mine.

Dreams aren’t always exactly linear, so I don’t know how to precisely express what I experienced. It was as if while we were making love we crashed into each other, our tides pulling us deeper and deeper, we took our time – slow and deep, we were urgent – harder, faster passionate, we climaxed – wave after wave, somehow this was all at once and all stretched out for some time.

At some point we were finished, you collapsed on top of me, and that weight of you one me was one of the most perfect feelings I can remember having. And all we could whisper to each other, in husky spent voices, was “I love you.”

I guess this is around when I woke up. Both sad for having woken up and ending the dream, and also filled with such a feeling of being content – something I am not familiar with, but fuck I liked it.

If I have to suffer through ten thousand nightmares just to have one dream like this, it is more than worth it.

There is a difference

01 Tuesday Apr 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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Tags

hopeful, Poetry

Doubting ourselves is very easy
Making ourselves not feel this way is not
People that haven’t dealt with these issues
they think it’s easy
“just stop”
if only it were so easy

What I have leaned is there is a difference
between what I “feel”
and what “is”

It doesn’t make those feelings
any less painful
But it does help me to deal with it
to step outside of myself
and know

I may “feel”
useless, disgusting, ugly, fat, skinny, dumb
(my God the list can go on and on)
Even if I “feel” those things
I understand I am not
there is a difference

It doesn’t make the pain any less real
but it does help me to keep going
because there is a difference

-July, 2013

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