Author: Mel Douleur
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.
Oh Santa…
I’ve been a good girl.
Mostly… it’s true.
But tonight, I wanna be naughty.
Just a little… for you!
Dressed in striped stockings
Silky and soft
Scarlet and white fur
Bosom spilling, aloft.
Will you take me
Over your knee?
Paddle me, pet me?
That’s my fantasy.
Will you join the fun
Give me a tease?
Tickle me, torment me?
You love to hear my pleas.
Will you point me
To kneel at your feet?
And watch me savor
My favorite treat?
Will you wrap me
In your warm embrace?
And make love your way,
At your delicious pace?
Whatever you do,
However we play,
Your naughty elf will
Stay past Christmas Day.
Because, Oh Santa…
I am yours, always.
Naughty and Nice,
Long after the Holidays.
‘Cause Santa Daddy,
You jolly good man.
Sometimes I’m a bad girl,
But I’m still your biggest fan.
When darkness falls…
The gaping openness of the night is too much… often more than I can bear. Every thought spins like a saw blade inside my skull. Each wish pummels me with its impossibility. Each memory coats me in a thick layer of melancholy.
My heart lurches, doing it’s best to beat back the hollow emptiness. But it only echoes my despair, calling the nightmare to mimic all of my fears, in perfect, little horror movies that play behind my eyes.
I push myself constantly. If I were just a little better, a little more, a little extra… maybe I’d be enough. Enough to wash away the malaise.
But every high is followed by an aching low. Each wondrous moment where I believe in myself, in love, in family, in my world… Each one is drowned by an equal moment of doubt, longing, and sadness.
In the night, when I am the most alone… desperate for sleep but fearful of what awaits me there… fighting those wicked demons alone… I hope for things no one should hope for.
I wish for the impossible, but know I’ll never see it. I beg my dreams to cooperate, and let me just be content.
But the darkness has it’s own agenda. And it is often monstrous in its efforts to defeat me.
But then… the sun rises on a new day. The blackness lifts as the light fills me to the brim with hope and recovered will.
I know the world doesn’t really harbor secret messages that are just for me, that those are childish thoughts, remnants of my little being left all alone for too long…
But the magic in those moments, where I believe things are just for me or that a story indeed had some glimmering hidden meaning meant only for my heart…
That magic is mine alone.
So, tonight, when my beautiful sun sets, my lovely family sleeps, and darkness begins to beat on me again, I will find solace in magic. I will find hope instead of despair, and I will fight back against the night.
By embracing it. I will love it, in order to coax the fear from it…
When darkness falls, I will force that awful monster to see those hidden notes and I will use it’s mocking to make me strong.
Instead of allowing it to convince me of my worthlessness, I will use that magic to convince IT of my pulchritude.
I will be the fire, in the dark.
And if I ever succeed, and stop listening to the voice in my head who is not the real me…
The darkness will never hurt me again. And instead, I will heal it. I will make it brighter.
In His Hands
Safe and soothed,
Tempted and tickled,
Lost and lavished,
Pleasured and pained.
In his hands, I am loved.
In his hands, I am more than loved, I am adored.
In his hands, I am lifted to places too high to understand.
And I am held to depths that I must discover.
Teased but treasured,
Frozen but freed,
Bruised but beautiful,
Whittled but whole.
In his hands, I am allowed to be all the perfect imperfection that makes life worth living.
In his hands, I am taught what this world is truly about.
In his hands, I am lifted… to the heavens above heaven.
And I am held, loosely, but never let go.
I am exactly where I was always meant to be.
In his amazing hands.
Wither
In the blank space left at the end, after a life of beauty and delight, this is all one can expect.
No longer bright and supple, no fragrance left to entice, all that was is withered.
Yet there is still grace in the husk which remains. Elegance in fragility. Pricelessness in leavings.
When you notice that which many overlook, fascinated in lifes failings, adoring that which is rejected…
You can expect to be one of the cherished as the rest are cast aside.
You will not wither, but become the enchanter for someone new.
You will not wither, but outlive those that do, in your pulchritude.
You will not wither, but will be cherished in your aged perfection and transcendence.
So while you are still lithe and vivid,
See the world through unending vision.
And experience
With me
Rejuvenation.
—
Thank you Stephan for allowing me to use your art as inspiration!!
Winter
She will steal your breath
Facing all unafraid
The power behind her frailty
Assumes a beauty
Found only
In sparkling, white crispness
Out of the wonderland
Sometimes rage
Defies reason
As she creates
The Blizzard
To prove her prestige
A storm like no other
Chilling and fear inducing
But with a purity
Not found in thunder
Lightning or even
Cleansing, torrential rain
The light inside her
Can sometimes be blinding
You cannot stare too long
You dare not breathe her in
You will not outlast her
Sweet Winter
Her fierceness
Will defy the strength
Of man
While her peacefulness
May invite pleasures
Unknown by too many
In her coldness
You will find warmth
In her grace
You will find foulness
In her design
You will find uninhibited chaos
Sweet, fierce winter
Often underestimated
Rarely coveted
But always
And forever
Picturesque and appreciated.
Give me peace
A dedication to a lost member of this community. May you rest in peace, Ed.
Silence the questions, mute the insults.
Give me peace, I need some results.
Stop this rollercoaster, let me get off.
Give me peace, please do not scoff.
Forgive my weakness, my heart’s neediness,
Give me peace, end this loneliness.
Open the future, so I might see.
Give me peace, so it might be.
Silence my desperation, give me a breath.
Give me peace, give me hope, or please…
Give me death.
—
Life is very hard. For some people, who do not believe in themselves, who find that they are simply too overwhelming for the world, who cannot find value in themselves without being valuable to others, it is very easy to believe they are not worthy of living. That the world would simply be better off without them.
Depression is a terrible thing. Hating yourself is an impossible thing. And once that thought enters your mind, that those you love would simply be better off without you, that is the worst thing, ever.
As we all reel from the horrible circumstances of losing a fellow blogger, I wanted to put this out there, because many people don’t understand suicidal thoughts. Most people don’t understand how much a person can hurt, specifically that kind of hurt. When the pain is so overwhelming and you literally feel like living is worse than dying… Well, I believe that is exactly what Ekidon was feeling Thursday.
Those with faith, please pray for this lost soul. Yes, it is selfish. Yes, in taking his life, he dumped a load of guilt on a lot of shoulders. And, yes, he could and should have sought help. But please, pray for him anyway. Undoubtedly, now, on the other side of eternity, he can see that this decision was wrong.
Then also pray for those who loved him. Because they deserve peace as well.
And if YOU ever feel this kind of pain… don’t let the thoughts spiral.
Reach out. Ask for help. Demand it. Seek out those who can be by your side to pull you out of that spiral when you cannot stop it.
The love of those around you can be a very healing thing, you simply have to allow yourself to tune into it. ❤
Heart of Gold
Everyone said she had a heart of gold. Which made sense, because it got stolen constantly.
There was also magic in her heart. Magic and light that was coveted by some.
Having a heart of gold made her give it fairly freely, though. Passing it off with the sweet smile of naivety. When it was returned, sometimes it was polished to glowing beauty by a vital connection that only humans are blessed with. Friendship and love fed her pretty heart, making it glitter with possibility.
But sometimes, it was not returned in the condition it was given. And eventually, her golden heart was dented and tarnished, the magic dulled and became unnoticeable.
It seemed to her that no one would want it anymore. It was so damaged and broken, seemingly useless.
She brought it to him anyway, lowering her gaze as she placed it in his waiting hands. And when she looked up, she saw that he was smiling. The kind of smile reserved for things that are precious and perfect. The kind of smile that heals and renews.
He folded his hands around her banged up heart and pulled it to his chest. He replaced it with his own, gleaming brightly and handed it to her, while holding his other palm over her old tattered heart, and whispering gently…
I don’t know why you took it away,
But this is where it’s meant to stay.
Now, I’m giving MY heart to you.
Be a good girl, don’t let it get bruised.
Now, tasked with the responsibility of protecting her new heart from theft or damage, she worked hard to find the perfect people who wouldn’t steal her heart, but help her defend it. And in the soft, pale light of the rising moon, she would take it out and show it to him. The one man who would never steal her heart without giving his own for collateral.
Each night, she noticed, as he offered her a glimpse of her heart, that it wasn’t so damaged any longer. It glowed a bit more and the magic was starting to sparkle once again.
Perhaps he was mending her battered old heart.
Something she swore he would never have to do again.
He Said…
He said he can’t bear the thought of a world without me.
He said he knew me. Better than I know myself.
He said he saw how much writing has changed me.
He said he knew the relationships I’d forged had helped.
He said he didn’t begrudge me finding ways to get what I needed, when I was needy.
He said he was sorry he doesn’t handle needy well.
He said he couldn’t bear the hurt I’ve dealt with.
He said he always believed I was the strongest person he knew.
He said he wants me to always feel his love.
He said he can help me, he said we’ll set goals, he said he understands me.
He said
“You are my everything. You better remember that always.”
I said, I will.
MelDouleur.com 