100 Words

She stood in a field of wildflowers.

Daisies mostly, but others too.

And decided that not knowing, in

no way detracted from their beauty.

Or how uplifted she felt, her body

following the trajectory of the sun.

Tears welled in her eyes.

Joy held her in an unseen web.

Arms reaching out and up,

her heart so open that the breeze

passed right through her radiant self.

Life gives us these moments

over and over and over again.

But you must get yourself to the field

and let the flowers bloom in your heart.

Welcoming the warmth on your face.

Near

When we were young, she always had a sixth sense when you were near.  That tingly, hair-raising, heart-beating awareness would always wrap her up with anticipation just before you would make your appearance.  Or perhaps she just had a really keen sense of smell, ferreting out any lingering scent of Export A Gold and those unfiltered pheromones you were always wafting in her direction.

She told me she still senses you.  It's still charged with the hopeful edge that someday (someday) your physical selves will collide long into the wee hours of the morning.  But it is mostly just a sense that you are in the room.  Invisible, but there non-the-less, and aware.

Driving in My Car

I paused to think of you today.  Thinking how we've committed to these roles.  Embedded and entwined in situations we're just not sure about.  And these things are always easier to get into than they are to get out.  So much damage in the extraction.  So much drama.  Plays like a bad made for t.v. movie.

Truth is, I don't really want you that much.  But I do want you some.  Or a lot.

Maybe in an illicit affair.  Like she said we'd done in other lifetimes.  (Do you suppose that is true?)  Torrid, even.  Messy, but not impossible to overcome or undo, should the others find out.   People forgive and forget these kinds of actions all the time, right?

There is something magical about the two of us, that I am at a loss to deny.  Nor want to.

Chances

Sometimes, she said, you just have to put it out there and hope that all the other elements at play in the universe are also conspiring on your behalf.  And well, if they are not, then you have to accept that as the message that everything is still okay with the order of things.

Return Policy

She wondered what it might feel like to let loose some of these regrets.  Return them for refunds where possible, refusing any and all store credits, seeing as that was part of the problem in the first place.

Longing

"I love you and I hate you."

He asked if it was as simple as all of that.  And of course he wanted to know what the future held.

"The whole world" she said "is caught up in love and hate.  So I suppose it is as simple and as deeply complex as all of that."  She released a slow sigh that had long grown roots in her heart and blanketed the world in its stillness for a moment.  "As for the future" a pause to look him in the eye and see if there was deceit or longing there.  Most definitely longing.  For they were both well aware that they stood in a doorway between their worlds.

She could feel the pull of all their prior lives together.  They played in images shaded by grey, pulsing, sometimes crisp and sometimes impressions of what could only be felt, never to be seen clearly.  She could imagine them with such ease, bodies colliding with energy and tenderness.  Touching, pulling away.  It was difficult to keep her desire in check.  Nor did she want to play her hand and give the future away.

"The future belongs to the moment in which it is lived out."  He closed the small space that had separated them.  His breath heavy along her neck, raising the hair there, she refused to move nearer nor would she back away.  His hands brushed the sides of her abdomen, making her weak in the knees.  Yet she stood. Wanting to open and give it all to him, the way she had imagined that she always had and once again would.  They were in territory that could destroy everyone on the other side of this looking glass.  He brushed her lips and brought a feather touch of his hand to her cheek.

No longer could she recall the others.  This portal was theirs.  Here they could meet in dreams and defy all laws of time and space.  Wisps and echoes of millenia coursed through them, lives in which their bodies had writhed and moaned together with harmonies as sweet as honey and as dangerous as a swarm of bees.

It was hard to rail against such history.

Dirty

She said everything about a relationship was messy.  Real relationships anyway, not the fake kind where people never truly let the other in.  The real ones take a lot of courage.  Mostly because you let that other person see you stripped down and often in the most undignified light.

Come to think of it, life itself is often one big mess after another.  Well, that is if you are doing it right.  That's how you should see it, a little raw and rough around the edges.  As much fun as it is to get dressed up and play pretend, that's just make believe living.

Don't be afraid to get in there and get your hands dirty.