Do that to me one more time….
Been in the worst rut as of late. A rut in part because that’s just what happens when we get older; long work days, less stamina, less drive, a little less prickle at the nape of your spine to see what’s happening outside. In part as a recovery from the holiday season; the crazy hours, the anxiety, the stress, the running of numbers and receipts in your head and hoping against hope that the season will be all that you expected, planned for, needed. In part getting ready for my baby to be home; the planning visits, meals, gathering of stuff for him to take home with him. Customers, family, tastings, reps, shopping carts, razor cuts, sore back…the “oufff” as I landed on the couch at the end of each day….the, “Oh goddam it” upon waking at 4:00 AM in the same spot.
Getting through. The season is all about just getting through, and while I have always been down with that, I also suffer this post season hangover. The pressing need of others no longer propping up my tired frame and I’m left feeling like a bag of skin, all the air let out. Jeremy’s leaving just one more whistling hole of absolute deflation. I find myself flipping through books, magazines, scanning blogs, websites and importer pamphlets seeking that spark, that little scrape of teeth that will make me dig my own into my bottom lip and seek more. My ache to rediscover the me that lives, slithers and thrives without my strings, direction, emotion, being pulled by the puppet like yanking of obligatory and maternal need. I find myself digging deep beneath the tattered and season ravaged uniforms, frayed jeans, sweat soaked bras, tears of goodbye stained pillows. I know there is a woman under all of that. A woman that has way more lusting, wonder, elation, gasping, groaning, learning, puddling and purring to do.
Do that to me one more time…
I’m done splashing around in those post crazy day gin and tonics. I’m done finding comfort and peace in their simplicity and not needing of my attention. Sure that relationship worked when I was merely seeking a way to quiet the hush and melt into my couch cushions but now, now that my wee brain is settled from the dizzying swirl of ribbons, tissue paper and UPS overnight rates, now I need more. Need to feel that nibble, wet mouth, garbled accent tiptoe up my neck and crash like waves across my shoulders….fingers scratch my scalp as you grab my head and demand that I notice…pay attention to You.
Once is never enough…
Bottle after bottle, your footprint across my skin
My lips parted
Eyes watching each achingly too slow pour
I can’t get enough
Stripping off last year
Layer by layer
I’m ready for you….