The Mindless Tongue

I just burned my tongue rushing to make sure I enjoyed hot beverage before it cooled: More specifically, I had made hot cocoa as a comfort and nourishment both physical and emotional today, a throwback to the cooling autumn beginnings of the school year and the little joys that carried Me onward to a lonely school day, week and year.

Never much joy in the home and always seemingly some argument or another, I found that my creature comforts were cocoa, toast and cheese by morning and long bike rides under falling acorns and leaves in the afternoon, preferably alone. Quiet. Today, in my forced solitude, with no specific task or job demanding of Me today, I have manufactured as much Hope, and Companionship, Nourishment of Body and Soul as feasible.

Yet, in my despair – and today it is a certain despair because in my first blush of waking I imagined You and thought, She no longer thinks of Me, no longer loves Me. She simply has moved on. She has a busy life and I am a Memory, a stored and nostalgic part she directed Me in for awhile until bored or the storyline exhausted, some journey She is creating with players but no Heart, no True Heart. Because, if You did build a Journey with Heart, You and I would be waking and walking together. Maybe as I read over our dialogues and ponder our Shared time together this Year, You Were only a Lesson to be taught on My Anger, Compassion and Existence on this Earth. Once the Lesson was received, You Were gone. Maybe You Were a soothing balm for My Human condition of Loneliness that We all tango with in steps of consumption, distraction and motion in the with food, smoke, entertainment, work, exercise – all good reasons to work within on creative use of this inescapable Truth – We all are Alone and Lonely. It’s not a thing to be judged, merely understood.

So, as I looked forward each day to seeing You on the computer, reading an email or text or hearing Your voice on the phone, as I sojourned through the day, an occasional check-in with You our day ending late-night, naked in bed together, alternately playful, erotic or two friends talking and wishing We could be in each other’s arms, did We really want that with The Other? Or, do You prefer to and need to be Alone? Am I supposed to be in this transition now with no companionship save for the occasional distraction of dog-caring? As Humans, the whole point is to spend time with and learn from each other. That is what I am finally coming to understand. That’s all We have. So, why didn’t I hop the first plane with my stuff right behind to get to You since I knew You Were more Cardinal Crab homestead than my Airy roaming Dual-natured self? Why didn’t We get right to it, in spite of the divorce You have yet to truly put behind You, daughters in the mix and a whole host of Life’s cross-roads We both are on?

All this amidst deep, sad and longing pain was on my Mind and coursing through my Body as mindlessly I kept sipping cooling off cocoa instead of my original plan to add the coffee, to keep it mocha hot, fresh and maybe with some comfort just like when I was a boy. Siempre, como tu Me dijeste, soy tu nene. Tu, mi nena. Madre, amiga, alma, amor. Todo. Y yo, Tuya.

So, I rushed to make up for it by pouring then gulping coffee that had mixed with the remnants of the cocoa, scorching my tongue. It snapped Me into my Body. I saw as I recovered – sin tu, Amorosa, fisicamente y espiritualmente, &iempre estoy perdido. I don’t know why. Why am I so lost without You of all people and times in My Life? I try to say it’s just the emotional wounds and scars of the past that You have triggered by getting deep into my Heart and with Your leaving Me, touching all the places where Human frail loneliness must grapple. But, it is not Merely a psychological wound and a force of the collective Jungian unconscious. It’s missing Your deep, soulful eyes. It’s missing Your sweet skin. Your smell. Your taste. You. You are Isolde the Fair and Isolde of the White Hands.*

I recall how one of the many times I was glorifying Your most perfect Manzana, how You let Me into that taboo darkness deep – all the way. Oh, Bebe! I must Love You, You said in astonished wonder. It feels so good. It doesn’t hurt. How far in are you? All the way? Wow. I do Love You, Bebe. Eres mi Macho. Yo, Tu Hembra. This is Your Home.

See, that’s the unforgivable part for Me. You took Me in, gave Me shelter called it Home. Then, You left.

Irony: You letting Me so physically deep into the most personal, sacred and intimate of cavities – making You, as You insisted only this act could, a complete woman for Me. Turning Me on. Turning Me upside down. I tried to tell you getting Me hard and thick wasn’t some trick or in need of games, enhancements. It always was just an extension of how in Love with You I am. You went and flipped the equation more than they physical partidos tremenditos e atrevidos we played. See, You got to my most intimate cavities beyond anything physical I could give to You or You could surrender to Me – and I don’t think You’ll ever leave. I don’t want You to ever leave even though You took Your Body, Your Voice, Your Smile all away. You’ll always be Deep, Profundamente dentro Mi, Precirosa. Silently, as the Sun moves past the morning kitchen, I have nothing else to say or write even as I keep trying to Right this Love.

I got torched.

Screen Shot 2013-09-17 at 9.38.48 AM*WE: The Psychology of Romantic Love, by Robert A. Johnson

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