tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76986768402949983002024-03-17T14:11:30.055-07:00SL FictionA place for writing (very) short fiction based on experiences in Second Life.Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.comBlogger116125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-90152261850974578502023-11-19T14:52:00.000-08:002024-02-01T11:32:56.921-08:00Mean me no love<p>I do not dream tonight. I may not ever. This is how that I must pay. Pay for all the unrequited dreams afore. <br /></p><p>I dance with you. It has been forever and ever. My arms around you, I tell you that you look like a dream in your gorgeous burgundy dress. You know full well what effect the twirl of your dress has on me. The mirrors on the walls around us call on all our dances past. If I could tear my eyes away from your face, your neck, the swell of your breasts, and look around me I would know their fate. Reminiscences swirling about us, I nuzzle your neck gently, holding you close as we sway to the distant music. Your heartbeat melds with mine like intertwined fingers. I kiss your hands, lingering on the feel and taste of your skin. </p><p>Desire, shorn of urgency and yet unfailingly potent, wraps around us like the night.<br /></p><p>I know you mean me no love. Yet this is how I must dance with you. <br /></p><p>Outside my mind, reason knocks on the door. I know its warning well. I know what a dance with you portends. But you my love, my everlasting love, are all what my dreams are because of.<br /></p>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-48091000069961270482023-04-06T05:31:00.007-07:002023-04-06T09:16:04.931-07:00Woman Unbound<p>A woman unbound, she tells me of loves past and future, of great distances and of warmth greater still, and she kisses the tip of my nose. I hold her close.<br /></p><p>Love stands near the door. But how is anyone to know? </p><p>I ask her if what was old is new again. She laughs, and I ask her to dance with me. She does not hesitate to take the hand I offer. We navigate the dance floor to find an open spot. She is like the wind, dancing with me, touching me, moving with me. We dance holding hands, we dance embracing each other, we dance not knowing who is around us. We dance. </p><p>I caress her bare arms, she rests her face on my chest, I kiss her hair ever so briefly. Her hands, her hands I kiss, I hold, I squeeze gently and she squeezes back. Her body's scent around me, she tells me things. I ask her things. I tell her that I so want to kiss her neck, but that I will fight the urge. That I so want to touch her secrets, but that I will fight the urge. That I so want to make her mine.<br /></p><p>She laughs. God, she laughs at my little jokes. And nothing makes me feel more alive.<br /></p><p>I look in her eyes and wonder how I can tell her what I am feeling, how I can tell her the joy that she is. <br /></p>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-50744118396046520902022-06-18T13:57:00.014-07:002023-01-27T11:25:05.411-08:00Only right<p><i><span>"Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom</span><br /><span>Well, who am I to keep you down?</span><br /><span>It's only right that you should play the way you feel it"</span></i></p><p><i><span> -------- </span></i><span>From <i>Dreams </i>by Fleetwood Mac</span><span> </span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span>When I stepped out onto the deck of your house that overlooks the beach, you are already in the shower inside the newly installed glass-walled sauna that occupies the back of the deck. You are proud of the sauna and had invited me to come see it. I pause to watch you. You can see me watching you. The water plays with your glistening skin as it envelops your familiar curves. You play with my mind, washing your breasts with caresses, your hands moving smoothly down your stomach to reach between your legs, and then raising your legs you wash them one by one. Smiling, I move towards the glass door watching the intimate play between water and hands and body.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>Grinning playfully, you approach him as he sits naked on a towel on the middle raised bench of the sauna. He grins back, saying "this is a wonderful place for us to play babe." You kneel on the lower bottom bench and use your hands to open his legs to make room for yourself. Trailing kisses on the sweat and steam on his thighs you move your mouth towards the source of his heat, enveloping it with your throat. He plays with your hair while you pleasure him. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>I sit on the floor and lean back against the glass wall. The sauna has exhausted its moist swollen heat. Tired, you sit down on the floor with me, your back towards me. I embrace you from behind, holding you gently as you lean back into me. Kissing the side of your face, I whisper "my love." You tilt your head back to look up at me and reach for my lips with yours.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>You sit on his lap on a deck chair just outside the sauna. He has put his clothes back on but you are still naked. You enjoy the effect your body has on him. The fire burning in the urn next to the chair keeps you warm despite the cool summer nightime breeze off the ocean. You drain the Rioja from your glass before putting it down on the side table and turn playfully towards him, saying "come to bed, baby."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>The early morning light on what seems to be a clear summer day floods your bedroom and I can sleep no more. You lie asleep next to me. I reach with my hand ever so gently to brush the hair off your face so that I can see you clearly. <br /></span></div>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-80546612373790479332022-02-13T12:33:00.008-08:002022-06-19T06:19:15.168-07:00Flicker<p style="text-align: left;">In my words you must stay.</p><p style="text-align: left;">You flicker in and out of existence on the chair across the round wooden table from me. The lone table and two chairs barely fit on the narrow deck at the back of the cafe, but I enjoy the relative privacy from the crowd inside.<br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">The rain falls all around us, the overhang of the roof keeping us dry. The lush green undergrowth of the thick forest comes all the way up to the deck so that I could touch the rain washed leaves by just extending my arm. The canopy of tall pine trees diffuse what little of the late afternoon light makes it through the rain.</p><p style="text-align: left;">When you come into focus, I hand you the cappuccino I had gotten for you earlier. You tell me about your day. I listen, my mind drifting, distracted by the sound of the rain, by the movement of your unadorned neck as you speak, by the way your dark hair falls atop your bare shoulders, by the movement of your curves as you cross and uncross your legs to find a comfortable way to sit on the wood-slatted chair, by the light in your eyes as you talk to me. <br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><p>I listen to your day but what I really want to do is to ask your night, </p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p><span> </span>"How did you become the woman in my dream?, and </p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p><span> </span>How did you make me the man that I seem? and, </p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p><span> </span>Who wrote the stories that gave us our past?"</p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p>You flicker in and out of existence as the rain deepens in the fading light. </p></div>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-33320394267564727312021-09-23T19:48:00.011-07:002021-10-05T20:20:17.122-07:00The night stretches<div style="text-align: left;">You came dressed in black, with a smile bearing my name. </div><div style="text-align: left;">You came drenched in memories, bereft of all pain. </div><div style="text-align: left;">You came bathed in darkness, washed in warm rain. <br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I hold out my hand and say, "Come, dance with me." You slow down in my arms, your body in sync with mine as we sway to the music. I touch your face, fingers caressing your familiar lips. I could tell you that I love you, that I have always loved you, but you already know all that. We talk, and in time you laugh with me. Your words fill my world and still my restless heart. Maybe tonight I can keep you near me. </div><div style="text-align: left;">The night stretches, wrapping us in make believe. In the embrace of the warm rain, we walk hand in hand, as the stars beneath us scatter to make way for your steps. The faint lights in the distance retreat further into the horizon. I bring your hand up to my mouth to kiss it and look for your eyes but I cannot see clearly anymore. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Our love will hold if we can keep the truth at bay.<br /></div>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-10840462989862546822021-08-21T10:33:00.005-07:002022-07-09T13:06:10.191-07:00Silhouettes<div style="text-align: left;"><i>Neon on my naked skin</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Passing silhouettes</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Of strange illuminated mannequins</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i> ------------------- </i>From "Big in Japan" by Alphaville (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMia7HJR2l4" target="_blank">Ane Brun's cover</a>)<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">(Inspired by a Steampunk sim... a first steampunk vignette from me) <br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The periodic whoosh of the massive propellers levitating my airborne home to the top of the cliff had the comfort of a steady
heartbeat. The pressure guages in the boiler room that fed the steam to the engine that powered the propellers were doing their job well and I could rest easy for the night. A few feet from where I sat in my chair behind the desk, a wall of checkered windows looked down on the channel that separated the jagged cliff of the island city-state from mainland. Tonight, a dense white fog blanketed the water reducing visibility so severely that no one, not even you, would be able to slip into the city for an attack. </div><div style="text-align: left;">I could sense you, perhaps through a whiff of your body's scent, before I heard the soft rustle of silk. When I looked up from the maritime reports I had been studying, you were sitting on the chair across the desk from me. Your right leg pulled up on the seat, your left leg swinging free, your ornate purple-hued oriental silk robe open as you leaned back with a glass of red wine in your hand. I traced your curves with my eyes, smiling, wanting to tell you that one day you will be mine. </div><div style="text-align: left;">The only reason I did not reach for the revolver in the top left drawer of my desk is because I knew that you were not really there, that my mind was playing tricks with me. </div>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-41941846846957896992021-05-22T14:22:00.004-07:002021-05-23T12:17:52.375-07:00A little bit yours<div class="ujudUb"><i><span>You're not mine anymore</span><br /><span>But I'm still a little bit yours</span></i></div><div class="ujudUb"><i><span> --- </span></i><span>from "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nwXlRq_QyTI" target="_blank">A little bit yours</a>" by JP Saxe</span></div><div class="ujudUb"><span>I wake up to the feeling of you laying on my back, your hair caressing my face, and your kisses on the back of my neck. I must have fallen asleep on my stomach while stretched out on the picnic blanket under the shade of a big umbrella in the lazy Sunday afternoon sun. </span></div><div class="ujudUb"><span>Giggling, you press into me and wiggle your chest and hips on my back. Smiling, I roll over using my hands to keep your body on mine. Grasping your hair from the back of your head, I gently guide your face up to mine and kiss your lips. </span></div><div class="ujudUb"><span>"There is no better way to wake up than with you in my arms."</span></div><div class="ujudUb"><span>You stretch out on me and reach for my shirt buttons. Midday stretches into late afternoon while we explore each others bodies and minds again. It has been years together. It has been years apart.</span></div><div class="ujudUb"><span>I show you new tricks I have learned to add to our pleasure. You laugh in delight. There isn't anything that I miss more than your delight. </span></div><div class="ujudUb"><span>It is evening by the time you recall that you are not mine anymore. <br /></span></div>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-53749280552352477542021-03-13T10:00:00.007-08:002022-08-03T11:04:15.384-07:00Olive Bread Afternoon<p>By the time we finish the apple pie on our little table outside the cafe, I have given the newspaper to you and picked up my book. But my mind isn't on the book, it is on you. The sun is now high enough to be clear of the buildings across the canal. It is one of those lazy bright weekend mornings when sunlight suffuses
everything with a brilliance without being blinding. </p><p>I study you as you read the newspaper. Your bright eyes, the unruly wisps of hair on your forehead, the curve of your mouth opening in time for the coffee cup you raise to your lips every now and then, the pale skin of your neck and throat moving as you swallow the coffee, the visible collarbone at the base of your neck and the beginning of your shoulder that I have kissed a thousand times, the unbuttoned top half of your soft white silk shirt moving with your body as you lean forward for the coffee revealing the curve of your right breast, your left elbow resting on the table, your hands holding the newspaper aloft at reading distance. All so familiar and yet it stirs an inevitable desire in me that I fight to subdue. <br /></p><p>When the sun is at its peak in the sky and we are tired of reading, we head back to the airbnb stopping first to buy provisions for lunch at a bakery near the cafe.<br /></p><p>As you put down the bag with the olive bread, the fresh wine-red grapes, and the triangle of brie cheese on the kitchen table, I envelop you in my arms from behind you, kissing the back of your neck, my hands reaching under your shirt for your breasts. You squeal in surprise and then in pleasure as I cup and squeeze your breasts and pull gently on your nipples. I burrow my face against the side of your neck, kissing urgently, biting downwards towards your shoulders. </p><p>Voice hoarse with desire, I whisper "I want you. I have always wanted you". </p><p>You reach back with your hands and pull up your skirt. "I know, baby. I could feel your eyes on me".</p><p>Lust took its course as I tear into you with my need, pinning you down onto the kitchen table, in time savagely emptying into you from behind. </p><p>The urgency now tempered, I pick you up in my arms and take you to the couch to take care of your needs more slowly and gently in the striated light of the afternoon sun coming in through the window blinds.<br /></p><p>Afterwards, as you rest I go back to the kitchen table to pull the olive bread apart into chunks and grind some fresh black pepper and sea salt onto extravirgin olive oil in a shallow dish. I think about the grapes but instead pour two glasses of the unfinished Malbec from last night. Pulling up a chair to sit next to you, I feed you lunch as you lie propped up on the couch cushions.<br /></p>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-21760535078049295352021-03-06T12:27:00.004-08:002021-03-06T21:23:16.336-08:00The farmer's daughter<p>In this strange world where we want to be misled and we want to misunderstand, I tell you a story.</p><p>I take your hands in mine and raising them to my lips, kiss them softly. As the music plays, its Latin rhythm coaxing us into dancing, I pull you towards me. Your black dress twirls as you give in to my gentle touches directing your body with the music. </p><p>We dance in the courtyard of an ornate high-ceilinged marble building with multiple tall arched windowed doors on all sides. The sun is low on the horizon and its rays light up the clumps of tall grasses that grow in the marsh surrounding the building. In the easterly warm wind, a sprinkling of brightly coloured flowers wave on stems tall enough to peek above the grasses. At one end of the courtyard are the now rusted metal statues of a man and woman frozen in a dance, her body arched backwards as his body leans onto hers to kiss her neck, their arms enveloping each other. <br /></p><p>"Did I tell you?" I ask, as I pull you into an embrace within the dance.</p><p>"Tell me what?" you respond, looking up at me, the warmth of the dying sun reflecting in your eyes.<br /></p><p>I lead you in and out of my embrace as we dance in the bright white light spilling out of the building onto the brick courtyard.<br /></p><p>"That we are in the middle of nowhere, Argentina. That on a moonless rainy night long long ago on the road that runs parallel to the overhead electric transmission lines in the distance, the road that you can barely see from here, a general's car broke down. He walked towards the only light he could see and when he knocked on the ramshackle house, the farmer's daughter opened the door. It was love at first sight. The general married her and took her away to the city. But in time he
had this beautiful building built for them to dance in when they came
back here."</p><p>"Is this true or are you just making it up?" you ask, smiling as we grind gently against each other in the recurring transient moments of closeness within the dance. </p><p>I smile back at you, hands reaching to caress your lips ever so briefly just as you twirl out of my reach in the dance. </p><p>"Their children put in the statues here as a memorial to them when they died. Rumour has it that when the sun is low on the horizon and the easterly winds are just right, the statues come alive and you can see them dancing here in the courtyard in the light that spills out of the windowed doors. She wears a black dress and anyone who has ever seen them says she looks lovely in his arms."</p><p>You rest your face against mine as we sway together. <br /></p><p>"That on dark and rainy nights you can see the farmer's daughter using the telescope on the upper floor balcony to look for the headlights of the general's car."</p><p>"How beautiful and sad" you say. <br /></p><p>In the light of the low sun, I lean into you arching your body backwards to kiss your neck, our arms enveloping one another.<br /></p>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-2689847295538723692020-08-27T12:11:00.009-07:002022-08-03T11:05:33.881-07:00Handwriting<p>As I drift slowly back from sleep to wakefulness, I become aware of my head resting against the sloping surface of a wooden drafting table. I can see the strange light outside of the open french doors from a kind of diffuse grayish-blue twilight sky infused with rain. The sound of the rain and its smell coming in with the light breeze slowly seeps into my consciousnes. I let it soak in for a few moments. Looking around with my eyes, head still resting on the table, I see that I am in a small sparely furnished room. There is a mostly empty bookshelf in the corner. A few feet from the desk is a couch facing the open french door. I can see the wet wooden railing on a balcony outside. I try to recall what is outside the room, to remember the view from the balcony, but my mind draws a blank.<br /></p><p>Pushing back against the table with my hands, I find that I am sitting in a leather swivel office chair with rollers. I must have fallen asleep against the drafting table. I lean back against the chair to study the table. On the bottom left, there is an upright purple fountain pen in a quaint gold pen-holder with an engraved black base. A bottle of indigo ink stands beside the pen. On the top left are a sheaf of loosely bound papers and a brown leather journal. To the right of where my head was resting moments ago, there is a single sheet of thick off-white paper folded in half under an ornate jade paper weight. Hanging on the wall opposite the french doors there are a few detailed topgraphic maps mounted in solid brown frames. I stare at the maps for a while. Most of them are of beach-front properties. They look vaguely familiar. <br /></p><p>I close my eyes and lean back further against the chair, trying to recall where I am and what I am doing here. Nothing comes to mind.</p><p>Eventually I give up and reach for the folded sheet of paper...<br /></p><p>"<span style="font-family: georgia;"><span><i>I have long been gone, my love. It has long been over.</i></span></span>"</p><p>I stare at the page for a while. I cannot tell if it is my handwriting or yours.<br /></p>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-22644093757042366902020-07-17T21:43:00.009-07:002020-07-18T20:10:53.000-07:00Embrace<div>When I wake up next to you, it is still raining hard and loud. <br /></div><div>The sky is now
dark though, and in the thin light seeping in from the wrap around windows of
the little one room house you had built for us I can see the heavy raindrops
beating down all around us. I turn my head to look at you, your face a few
inches from mine, as you lay on your side facing me. A flash of lightning
illumimates your face and the room around us and you stir briefly at the sound
of the accompanying thunder. I move closer to you, whispering softly so as to
not wake you, "Did I tell you that you never leave my mind, my love." Reaching
with my hand, I caress your face ever so lightly, brushing your dark hair back
from your face, and then down your neck. <br /></div><div>Lightning flashes again and in the
pulsing light I see your face in my hands as you kneel in front of me and I make
love to your throat. In the ensuing thunder, I lean forward to kiss your throat
softly atoning for how rough I had been to it earlier. I slip the cover back
down your naked body, eyes lingering on the curve of your collar bones and down
the curve of your visible left breast. Lightning flashes again and in the
flickering light I see you straddling my hip, your body moving up and down as
you moan loudly and I reach with my mouth for your nipples. "Baby," I whisper
softly as the thunder claps down around the house. I lean in to you and kiss
your lips, pulling your body gently into mine, waking you up for my need. <br /></div><div>When I
wake up next to you, it is still raining hard and loud. <br /></div><div>The sky is brighter now
though, and through the wrap around windows I can see the heavy rain all around
us. I turn my head to look at you, your face a few inches from mine. You are
awake and looking at me. I smile into your eyes and move closer. You reach for
my body and pull me closer to hold me against yours. I go back to a kind of
warm slumber in your embrace. <br /></div><div>I barely hear you when you ask in a low voice,
"Am I more than an addiction?"
</div>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-50043351794812377032020-06-20T14:05:00.014-07:002020-07-09T19:21:38.206-07:00Inescapable<p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;">I
turn to look at you. It is late evening and you are laying next to me
in an adjacent beach chair. You are on your
side facing me, and I hold your gaze, searching your eyes. When you look away
with a barely audible sigh, I reach with my hand to caress your dark hair back
gently from your face. In the diffuse evening light, your skin is luminescent. My eyes
trace down your neck, lingering on your collarbones and then down to your
breasts barely covered by the open translucent white silk shirt you are wearing. I feel the
moist gentle pull as you turn your face slightly to take my index
finger into your mouth. I watch the curve of your lips as you suck on my finger,
your eyes locking onto mine with a desire at once familiar and inescapable. I
reach out with my other hand and pull you on top of me. <br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;">The waves are now loud
enough that I can no longer keep them out of mind. The moonlit churn of the
waves washes up to just a few feet away from my feet. In the very far horizon
out on the sea, I can make out the shape of what must be a large ship. The
breeze has picked up a bit, though it is still very warm and comforting. I can
hear some faint voices and laughter every so often but their owners must be
quite distant. There are no clouds in the sky and in the half-moon the stars are
bright and feel close. It is a beautiful night, but I cannot remember how I came
to be there on that beach.
</p>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-15496371110250269682020-06-11T18:50:00.008-07:002020-06-20T14:26:39.021-07:00Would you?I try and steady the row boat as you step into it and then taking your hand guide you to sit across from me on the passenger side. We had found the boat nestled in among the lotus leaves and tall gangly yellow flowers by the grassy edge of the small island with the temple. The turquoise water is brilliantly lit by the dying sun, and you are delighted by the koi fish that swim in the clear water around the boat. I can see the clumps of tall bamboo on the little island behind you swaying gently in the breeze. The butterflies we had disturbed in walking down to the boat flit about us. I smile into your eyes and pick up the oars to set us off into the water.<br />
<br /><div>
Our surroundings are so beautiful that we forget to talk for a while. I see a pink flowering cherry blossom tree growing out of a rocky arch abutting a waterfall and steer the boat towards it.</div><div>"If you could change the way I feel about our past, would you?," you ask.<br /></div><div>I look at your face silently letting the boat glide past the waterfall. You look so beautiful, sitting there across from me, your dress gathered under your legs. I resist the primal urge to hold you in my arms.<br /></div><div>"Did I tell you?," I think silently to myself, "That I have always loved you."</div>
"Would you?," you ask again. <br />Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-18421480166517055292019-12-04T15:20:00.000-08:002019-12-04T15:21:42.181-08:00SongI realize what you are to me. You are my song, my poem.<br />
<br />
Now most of us don't live our song, but everyone has one. And you are the spirit of my song, its heart, its mind, its music, its words.<br />
<br />
And you know the best part? You don't even have to live in this song with me, for all of this to be true.<br />
<br />
In the gentle breeze, the sound of the waves from across our beach barely reaches us as we lay propped up against the great big tree at the corner of the meadow in the back of our house. My back against the tree, your back against my chest, I hold you in my arms as you sleep. The impossibly tall-stemmed flowers that have overrun our meadow surround us like so many sentries warding off reality. It is twilight and the sky is suffused with brilliant colors from the setting sun. I reach to caress your raven hair back from your face, and whisper "Happy Birthday, my love."Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-78548458637036251462019-11-06T15:20:00.000-08:002019-11-12T17:14:38.807-08:00ShardsSee me dancing in the rain<span style="color: #999999;"></span><br />
Shards of glass in my back<br />
Trails of blood, my love <br />
<br />
See me drinking whiskey on the porch<span style="color: #999999;"> </span> <br />
Dreams of diamonds and rust<br />
Don't fall for me, my love.<br />
<br />
See me laying in our hammock<br />
Arms holding you in the wrong way<br />
It's all far too late, my love<br />
<span style="color: #999999;"></span>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-47951412578946122952019-10-26T11:10:00.001-07:002019-10-29T16:46:27.089-07:00Words on a page (2)In the space<br />
between my words<br />
you live, and<br />
we love, you and I<br />
<br />
I leap ahead<br />
from words to words<br />
lover mine<br />
you fall behind<br />
<br />
Sometimes, I go back<br />
to words from long ago<br />
and find you there,<br />
dreamingBetwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-13995497970503713292019-10-23T16:50:00.001-07:002019-10-23T17:00:34.654-07:00Words on a pageIn the rain, there is a whisper<br />
of a moon rising high<br />
and miles and miles of love<br />
washed away with the tide<br />
<br />
In my dreams, there is a quickening<br />
of the blood in my veins<br />
a thousand cuts from sharp desires<br />
bleeding words on a page <br />
<br />
I didn't hear you leaveBetwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-16745853948975360522019-10-05T11:08:00.002-07:002019-10-11T19:15:47.486-07:00You were right, of courseIt is 3 in the morning and the world is empty but for the stars above. After a long night of caressing each other's bodies and minds with our words, we just lay there, spent and entwined on our hammock.<br />
<br />
"Do you remember the time when...?" I say, reaching out to caress your hair off your face.<br />
<br />
You stir on my body and tilt your face up to look into my eyes. "What time?" <br />
<br />
I play with your hair, holding your gaze, willing the hammock to continue rocking us gently in the warm breeze off the water.<br />
<br />
"The time, all those years ago, when I asked you to marry me and move in to my house?"<br />
<br />
You embrace me tightly and whisper, "I loved that house with the crescent moon bay."<br />
<br />
Your head back on my chest, we listen to the periodic murmur of the gentle waves.<br />
<br />
"Do you remember your response?", I insist gently.<br />
<br />
You don't answer.<br />
<br />
"You said that if you moved in with me, it would be the beginning of the end of our relationship."<br />
<br />
You look up at me but don't say anything.<br />
<br />
"You were right, of course."Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-13579537424921671642019-08-31T15:23:00.001-07:002019-09-03T15:25:09.006-07:00two simple thoughtsIf I talk real softly<br />
will you hear me<br />
but not wake up<br />
so that I can suffuse<br />
your dreams with<br />
my love, my love<br />
<br />
If I tell you again<br />
that you are the light<br />
that brightens my mind<br />
will you shine even more<br />
and erase all the darkness<br />
in me, my loveBetwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-80908371546891236542019-07-16T16:29:00.000-07:002019-07-17T15:35:06.317-07:00I don't know how I don't know how, but I still love you. Will you come to me?<br />
<br />
There is magic in your eyes. The diffuse glow of the setting sun lights up the warmth in your eyes as you smile. I pull you into my arms and onto the hammock on our beach. Our bodies entwined, I talk to you for hours in these summer evenings. In this world of make believe, I tell you that I love you in hundreds of different ways. Words of love, words of fantasy, words of feelings wrapped up in
impossible dreams, words of wishes written with layers of untold
meaning. I kiss your eyes and tell you that I lust for you. I tell you things. I ask you things to explore the innermost recesses of your mind through your answers. Even when you are in my arms, I long for your mind. In the background I play the saddest romantic songs I can find to quench this undying thirst for you, but they don't work. So I explore your body with words trying to get to the essence of you. The more I seek, the more I find. I drink from the feeling of you wrapped inside of me. I cannot get enough. So in these summer evenings I hold you in my arms and talk to you.<br />
<br />
I don't know how, but I am still addicted to your mind. Will you come to me?<br />
<i> </i><br />
<i> </i>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-88758819690766282522019-04-20T13:43:00.000-07:002019-05-06T19:04:40.124-07:00Infinite absenceThe sun sets quickly and brilliantly at this time of year and I had come out of the house
to stand on the beach to watch the dying sun light up the water in
fiery reds and purples. In the clear air of the late evening I can see for what seems like miles in both directions and there is no one else on the unending sand. The occasional shrill cry of a lone bird in the far distance behind me is the only disturbance to the otherwise meditative periodic rhythm of the waves lapping at the sand all along the shoreline.<br />
<br />
Standing at the water's edge with my feet just at the point where the waves give up and recede, I get lost in the sounds and in watching the brilliant colors of the sun on the water slowly dull into a more uniform twilight.<br />
<br />
In time, I lay down on my back on the beach and wait for the stars to herald the coming of the night.<br />
<br />
Your absence surrounds me, an infinite absence stretching all along the water's edge. It suffuses my thoughts as an only friend. What trick of mind is it that conjures up an absence? How strange to be besotted with an illusion I have created myself.<br />
<br />
I have looked back in time, I have looked far into the future, and found no evidence of you. Yet your absence is in my present, always. What form of insanity this is, I cannot tell.<br />
<br />
Can one know something solely from its absence?<br />
<br />
At nightfall, the stars come out to shine on me. Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-44654296857653814802018-12-30T18:33:00.000-08:002019-05-08T20:51:45.171-07:00Wish meI walk up the path to your house, or at least to what I think is your house. The large number of cars parked on the street and onto the driveway suggest that it is the house with the party. <br />
<br />
The bright yellow lights spilling out of the windows of the front rooms illuminate the steps and the front porch. I pause and look inside but don't spot you among the beautiful people in colorful sweaters holding drinks visible through the windows. When there is no answer to my knocking, I open the front door and let myself into the din of the conversations. It is warm inside the house, a welcome relief from the cold dark outside. When I take off my coat to find a place to hang it, I don't recognize the brown leather coat, handsome but well worn, that I am holding in my hand. I feel inside the pockets but they are empty.<br />
<br />
"The coat closet's full, I am afraid. You will have to put it on the pile of coats in the dining room corner."<br />
<br />
"Thanks. I was wondering what to do with the coat," I say, and extend my hand to the woman with the directions. "I am Michael, a friend of the birthday girl."<br />
<br />
"And I am Stephanie. Also a friend of the birthday girl." she said, suppressing a giggle to shake my hand. "Come get a drink when you are ready."<br />
<br />
I watched her weave her way back through the folks hanging out in the passageway, hoping she'd walk up to you.<br />
<br />
Not caring to figure out the coat anymore, I deposit it in the dining room and head towards the kitchen. I don't recognize anyone that I see. <br />
<br />
A glass of red wine in hand, I walk around to look for you in the rooms filled with conversations.<br />
<br />
"Aren't you going to wish me?," you ask from behind me.<br />
<br />
"I have", I say under my breath before turning around to face you, "I have wished for you all of my life."Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-48787084324978633482018-12-27T14:46:00.001-08:002019-10-16T15:13:21.565-07:00Magic<i>Turn your magic on</i><br />
<i>To me she'd say</i><br />
<i>Everything you want is a dream away</i><br />
<i> -------------------- </i>From "Adventure of a Lifetime" by Coldplay<br />
<br />
The din of the restaurant around us fades as my eyes focus on your lips. You are telling me something you are excited about, but your words flow past me. I am enthralled by the light in your eyes, the way your raven hair frames your face, the way your mouth shapes the words you are saying, your unadorned neck moving ever so slightly as you speak. I echo the smile in your eyes and reach for your free hand with mine, caressing it ever so slightly. You pause to put a forkfull of pasta into your mouth and I raise my glass of wine to you. With a clink you touch your glass to mine and we both enjoy the wine for a bit. <br />
<br />
"You weren't listening to me, were you?"<br />
<br />
"I was listening to every little movement of your face."<br />
<br />
"What am I going to do with you?," you say, laughing happily.<br />
<br />
"I know exactly what I am going to do with you. When we get home, that is." I reach across to caress your lips briefly.<br />
<br />
"Michael, be serious!"<br />
<br />
"I couldn't be more serious, my love. It is your birthday and I have a nightful of dreams to make."Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-76956996539019756222018-09-13T21:17:00.000-07:002018-09-14T19:02:28.753-07:00till youI see your name<br />
but you are not there<br />
and I feel the loss<br />
of all the words left unsaid<br />
till you...<br />
love me<br />
<br />Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7698676840294998300.post-71107897053920388762018-08-29T20:42:00.000-07:002018-08-29T20:42:13.479-07:00From JJ: Pool(Found another vignette by you!)<br />
<br />
It was gorgeous today, so I went to the pool. I sat in the sun for a long time, just enjoying the heat on my skin and the sound of the water. I ordered a Screwdriver. You know that's what I like to drink. I thought of you as I lay there in the sun - nothing in particular, really, just my mind remembering moments with you, like the first time you took me to Apollo, and how I felt the first time I saw what you look like, and what you sounded like when we made love.<br /><br />I needed to go to the bathroom, but I didn't want to go into the pool bathroom, so I went to the powder room on the upper floor. It was deserted in there, except for me. I guess it was thinking of you and the sunlight and the alcohol, but I was so horny, so wet. I reached down between my legs and used my fingers to make myself cum while I bit into my lip so I didn't cry out. All alone, in the bathroom stall.<br /><br />I miss loving you and fucking you and kneeling to you.<br /><br />After you read this, delete it, and we'll pretend I never said these things.<br />
<br />
<i><b>By JJ, many years ago</b></i>Betwixt Epsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14578172089974633500noreply@blogger.com0