on pain...

I often attach my deepest emotions to pain. My life has been shaped by it, my identity formed in direct opposition to it, and my memories filled with it. For a woman who has accomplished so much, the one thing that has mattered the most, is the thing I believed was the source of my greatest failure: Love. It finally occurred to me that I was always a successful lover, just never been loved. I identify with pain, because in romance... it's all I know.

But like love, pain takes time to grow. To manifest. So you can imagine my surprise that this started that way... he whispered to me, that he was not trying to hurt me. And I said, good, if you could master never hurting me, that'd be perfect. So here we were inches apart... breathing deeply, in sync eyes locked and... it hurt. Hurt. Like I was 16 on a futon with Tupac playin in the background hurt. But he was distant, and I wanted him closer. And slowly, tentatively he pushed. I saw the concern in his eyes and I wanted to say, "baby, pain I can handle." In fact, I've grown to appreciate it... it's the love that's new. But all I could do was shake my head yes.

Oddly enough, it was the most comfortable moment of the weekend. I did not need to think about how to deal with pain. I do that everyday... and in fact, I was aroused by his. And I wanted to experience him in his entirety... especially the pain.

I felt him. He wanted me to SEE him. I was looking. He's one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen, so this was easy. But in order to truly look at someone... they have to look back at you. Everything you are watching in them they are watching in you. And just as he so desperately wanted me to see him, I wanted him to see me. But every time I've shared myself with someone, every time I've let someone watch my soul... they broke their stare because my eyes were to intense.

Still, here I am painting portraits of him in my mind. His form smoking in front of his kitchen window. His posture relaxed but alert... absorbing a certain understanding of the universe surrounding him. Marveling at his ability to literally hold me together in his sleep. Admiring the way the shape of his eyes change when he talks about his daughter. The amazing disappearing meal, the way he props his head up on his hand when he is really listening to what I have to say. Looking down at his hand entwined with mine while our footsteps and pavement form the background. At one point, as the cross walk warned red, I broke our stride in an effort to rush to the other side. He called for me to come back and kissed me. He said, they can wait for us.

I looked back... and saw him. No stage, no show, just him. I took that moment and bottled it up to take home. Didn't have a purse or pockets so I tucked it in my heart in the midst of all the pain... and somehow, it just fit.

I hope my moments can compete...