Like Water

Nebulae

For sure my belly was like a waterbed, tender and smooth to the touch, undulating to the slightest press. A little here, a little there, he said. You have some hidden over here, he said. And he whispered in my ear that I need no practice. Then he sampled the contours of my auricles and everything else around it, and then a subtle plunge down into the unassuming orifice. Pleasantly surprised, I would say I've never had it in the ear before, not like that.

And for sure he reminded me of water. Effortless in his approach, calming in his caress. And I couldn't help but think how at that age, having newly graduated from the same, I only knew so much. 

My morning cup would have requested a refill. 

Of love and other pheromones

Like Sierva Maria with butterfly kisses.
(Photo borrowed from Google Images)

I don't know how to start this post.  My conversations with you online and on the phone were amazing and I could even stretch my first impression of you to the point of saying we are on the same wavelength.  You get me, and that's quite rare.  You remind me of my former, the sweetness, the gentle caresses.  We talked about books, we talked about travel, we talked about relationships.  I scan your shoebox apartment and find it immaculate; You know how to edit your life.  I saw everything wearing your glasses, even the things you might have thrown out.  You played songs I never heard of before, while we held hands and i nuzzled on your neck.  I could've stayed like that all day, caught up in one of the best make-out sessions I've ever had.

I never really liked heavy petting, but somehow you left a mark and it is visible.  I don't know if I can mask my confusion any longer.

Employee's Must

Perhaps if it wasn't so rushed.  I felt the adrenaline, the confused distraction, in the way you wrote with your heart-shaped ballpen that had no ink.  The store was closed but it was also open.  The silkiness of your skin belied the roughness of your hands, the way you muscled me in closer till I had no more room to breathe.  However thankless your trite employee farewell was, I thoroughly enjoyed dining in ... to an almost fetishistic level.  As soon as I got there, I found myself being rushed out the door.  

I insist you wash hands; but do reply first.  

Annointment

It is rare for me to be moved during homily, but this parish priest in our small church has consistently gotten through to my sensibilities for all those times I've heard his sermons.  He is a brilliant speaker in the vernacular and knows exactly how to drive his point.

This evening he talked about how this rich man approached Jesus and asked what he needed to do to gain eternal life, and Jesus replied that he should sell everything he has and follow Christ.  The rich man, saddened, left and Jesus told his disciples that it would be easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.  Preachy stuff.  Anyway, the priest told the handful of people who attended that everyone is given his/her own spiritual challenge and asked that we examine our lives and figure out what is holding us back from achieving eternal life.  Sins, material possessions, mistakes in the past, were some of the few things he mentioned.

And when I tried to examine my life in this context, I couldn't find an answer.  Sure I thought of the usual things, which I saw as human needs - the need to acquire material things, the fear of being poor, sex, my dreams and aspirations.  Despite these things having weight, I did not feel fully convinced of my answers.  Personally, I think we were placed in this world to experience how it is to be human.  I couldn't stop thinking that even if there is life after death, how significant is our earthly existence in the greater scheme of eternity?

Agape

I slid back until my neck felt the coarse softness of the pillow.  These sheets smell like chemicals, an industrial scent. I imagine the delicate flowers were ruthlessly cut, bound in plastic and delivered into a factory; processed, extracted, preserved, until what was left was the faint essence of its pulp, a virgin bud overcome by strong ether and acid.

I imagine the hands that rumpled the cheap white sheets as they were transferred from the laundry shelf unto the bed.  Those hands must've been rough, hard and unfeeling.  And yet here I am, cherished by a young one whose feelings about his first experience with me he calls love.  I am those hands that rumple, that expertly carve the silhouette of white in a darkly-lit den of entrapment.  I hold the reins, I call the shots, and yet I am left wanting more.