In my late thirties, as a wife, a mother, an administrative manager…
As a woman in emotional flux, I spread my fingers across a keyboard one day to defeat the boredom inside my mind.
I found that truth was actually quite interesting. I found that the imaginary was even more interesting. I found that I could write.
And, Mel Douleur was born.
a butterfly’s
broken wings
do not
detract from their
beauty
magic cannot be lost
in the wind
or rain
the beat of my heart
remains strong
despite it’s ache
and your love never
waivers
even in the ugly face
of doubt
I am Pretty
basking in
your glow
simpering beneath
your smile
stinging from
your will
so pretty
in the clear calm warmth
of your gaze
you know just the words
and look
and touch
I need
to burn away that fog
and see myself
clearly
once again
I am Pretty
in the reflection
of your love
my wings are healed
because
of your love
Perched at the edge
Of reason and will
The sweet morning sun
Giving spotlight
To the curves
That beckon you
Find me
Beneath thin fabric
Seek out
Your trembling
Oasis
Save yourself
And me
In me
Where your fingers
Pluck at sweet petals
Stretching them open
And sinking deep
Inside
For the gush
The rush
Of liquid ecstacy
Quenching
The desert of my
Longing
And
Inciting
Your ever present
Thirst
For more
Push me
To surrender
Until you are
Wrist deep
And I’m begging
For release
Or
Relief
Permission
Never granted
But taken in
A fountain
Erupting
Around
Your
Flesh
And bliss
Is given
His
Sanctuary
Your oasis
The midnight hour gleams with the polished hope of a wistful, wishful girl, gazing at stars that would trace the edges of her magic if they could reach her.
But the window is shut and the curtains drawn. The silly dreams of of an immature mind are dismissed by the must-do’s and not-now’s of responsible adults who know better.
A dismissal she will know many times over, even from those who make promises through vows to cherish and through fingertip kisses and even through toe curling bliss.
That loneliness is a requirement, it seems. A right of passage into the realm of grown ups. Where the glitter of the night sky holds only the magic of sleep and where the moon speaks to no one but the wolves.
But you know the secret, don’t you? The sky isn’t where the magic lies.
It’s not in the clouds or the stars or the moon…
It’s right inside each and every one of us.
And the magic in your heart can only be dismissed if you let it.
I refuse your dismissal, cruel world.
I throw back the defeat of your drapes to glimmer, shine and light up all the darkest corners of the universe, right alongside my stars.
There is no goodnight in that magic. There is no dismissing me.
I need a place
Firm floors and soft edges
A structure of steel
Draped in pillows and blankets
Warmed by the sun
Shimmering in the dark
With the promise
The one promise
That no one
Has ever made.
I need a place
A safe harbor
Where I can fall apart
No one else’s needs to meet
No demands
Of time or wit or ability
No decisions to make
No bedtimes, screen-times, mealtimes
No downtime
Never any requirements
Of my mind
Of my eyes
Of my voice
Only my flesh
I need a place
A safe harbor
My blanket fort
Your sofa
A mattress
Or futon
Or backseat
It isn’t the location
It’s the mindset
It’s your attitude
It’s a command
Bend over, feel, break, cry… Come, baby girl, again
I need a place
A safe harbor
Where I can beg to be
Broken
Ruined
Freed
Until all that is left
Is the calm eye of the hurricane
The center of the
Storm
That is my life
All that is left
Is me
I need a place
A safe harbor
Where pain isn’t frightening
But comforting
Where the tangled
Unruly web
Of this world
Looks like silly string
Dirt is just fairy dust
Piles of laundry are pillows, or even clouds
The disarray is simply magic
I need a place
A safe harbor
Where the sobs
That escape my chest
Aren’t fruitless cries to an empty shower
Never meaningless
But instead
They are music
A sonnet leading to a symphony
Of laughter and bliss
A concert
For one
I need a place
I need to fall apart
I need to be taken apart
I need that impossible promise
The air, sweet and thick with the breath of angels, clings to my clothes, making them sticky and heavy against my skin. My sun hides beneath a thick blanket, lacking the energy to burn through so that he might shine down upon me, cheer me, and will me to be better. And my moon remains missing, keeping watch over someone else, somewhere else, someplace far from me.
When the summer rain finally falls, each warm yet refreshing drop washes away a bitter memory. It cleans me and grounds me, folding over and around me like a security blanket. It whispers to me, about my purpose and my plans. It settles into me and strengthens me, cell by cell, until I am whole. Until I am wholly different. Until I am completely changed.
I hear the song of the future, and it rings through me like a lightning bolt. There is no past or present, there is only what could be, what can be, what will be.
Brought back to life from the brink of yesterday’s death, I look beyond today’s, and see a flood of tomorrows. Each bright, shining possibility glimmers with promise and hope, and sings to me that the rain will not last forever, so I must remember. I must maintain the magic of this moment, even when the magic dissipates, and the bleak, sunless sky frowns in darkness.
My sun will return and he will light up my skin as he has tomorrow after tomorrow before.
I will close my eyes to my moon, and sleep through his ever present disappearance, until he is forgotten.
The puddles of the sweet, burning knowledge that have coated me and cleansed me of my misery, will evaporate. But this moment will never be gone.
And as I stand here, beneath this summer rain, smiling at each drop and splash, I recognize that I never needed it in the first place. Because all of that knowledge and magic came from within my heart. Bottled up to be protected, but there is no protection suitable for faith. There is no umbrella large enough, no raincoat strong enough, to hold in and hold down the hurricane of love which erupts from within me.
A random occurrence
Not planned
But not an accident
Two edges
Fitting together
Perfectly
And peacefully
Combining
To create a new
Image
A new world
Not with simple
Smooth
Perimeters
Beveled lines
That rub against
Each other just
In order
To blend
But instead
The perfect
Male/female
Union
Mountain meets valley
Soft finds rigid
Smooth and supple
Against
Hirsute brawn
Locking together
Melding
To form an
Artwork
That is painted in
Frothy white layers
Over soft
Peach curves
A beauty
Beholden
Only to fortune
Or fate
And
That dark
Torrid want
Inside
All of these
Complicated
Glorious
Edges
Burns quietly
And brightly
Until
The boundaries
Fall away
To bliss
Captive to the
Sunrise
I bloom and burst
With the thrill of
My sun
Blessing
and
Burning
Through the fog
Of doubt and
Despair
To light me
From within
So I might glow
Another day
So I might
Grow
Again
Today
And hear the wind
Breathe
Over the sea
To roar in my ear
And whisper
Against my flesh
The promise
That tomorrow
Will always
Come
MelDouleur.com 