Happy Birthday!

There are no material things
That could match my love for you
No tool, no tie, or delicious cake
Not even batman underoos

The best thing I can offer you
Is a fistful of my sass
So on this happy birthday
Instead I’ll shake my ass (for you)

Happy Birthday, Love of My Life!

Hold Me

Speak to me softly
Touch me strong and fierce
Command me in warm whispers
And swift strikes that pierce

Taste me so gently
Devour me steady and fast
With a trail of warm, wet kisses
And throbbing bite marks that last

Hear your name called quietly
Force my willing throat raw
With breathy moans of pleasure
And guttural clenches of jaw

Ask me to ask you
Make me to plead and beg
With quiet fists gripping soft sheets
And needy thighs wrapped around legs

Claim me, I’m yours, Sir
Own every part of me
Hold me in your loving arms
That’s where I’m meant to be

She Wore

She wore silence
Thick like calloused skin
Made so by rejection and hurt, afraid to let go and jump in

She wore sadness
Heavy like stacked weight
In the pit of her stomach, refusing to abate

She wore anger
Smoldering like red-hot embers
Her emotional crutch, holding her up like suspenders

She wore armor
Sharp like razored fences
Assembled so meticulously, with guilt and pretenses

She wore compassion
Flowing freely like a river
From the depths of her heart, always the giver

She wore complacency
Choking like she was drowning
Hiding feelings in tidy boxes, while her insides were shouting

She finally wears awakening
Bright like the northern star
Learning compassion for herself, accepting the scars

She wears surrender
Deep as oceans dive
Offering him her whole self, awake and alive

She wears his love
Warm like a quilted vest
Her one true safe place, in which she finally may rest

She wears her freedom
Light and fresh like springtime air
Feet firmly planted, with her soul laid bare

He wears her offering
Devotedly like hourglass sands
Cradled and protected, in the palms of his hands

They wear their bonded connection
Woven together like never-ending thread
Their aged fabric breathed with new life, made stronger for days ahead

Halfway There?

M will be 45 this week. Today, during our weekly review, he set some expectations for his birthday and set up a date for us. Then, he looked at me and said…

M: I’m so excited for my birthday.

Me: What are you excited about?

M: I’m just looking forward to the date and the after.

Me: Me toooooo!

M: But, I can’t believe I’ll be 45. That makes my heart hurt a little.

Me: Why? It’s just a number. We are in midlife, that’s true, but instead of having midlife crises, we had midlife evolution, which is fucking amazing. We are so happy.

M: I know, and that’s why I don’t want to get older. Realistically, we could be more than half way through our lives. I just want more future with you.

This openness we share takes my breath away sometimes, in the best possible way. That he not only wants such things with all his heart, but he expresses them to me, makes my heart sing. I don’t think we are  halfway there, I think we’ve already arrived.