Is my spirit something I can just wink at when it suits me?
I feel as much adrift as I did before, lost at sea not even knowing if I want to find North. More likely I've dropped anchor without a shoreline in sight and decided to hang out until starvation, scurvy, or a strong wind batter me toward a direction. He has managed to cultivate himself into a compelling person, perhaps too strong in head, but so driven to be something somewhere that he gets what he asks for. I ask for nothing, not knowing even what I want, but my dreams.
I ask no companions, no beloved snugglers, no specifics. My dreams have not had words put to them, I am filled with imagery and emotion, laughter and dance and when that runs out, pity for not asking for something more stable. What discipline, to ask for what I want, can I cultivate when my belief is so feeble? There is a world in my heart and wisdom inside me speaking to the worship I have for life, but I give it little direction toward the greatness that I imagine.
I wonder: does he ask for lovers, manifest affection? Why does he get to have all that he does? Why does he get to flirt, be turned on and excited, be hugged and held? Is it because of asking? Forward eyelash batting? Faking it til he makes it?
My cheeks flush to think of playing with someone sexy. A feeling of determination overcomes me. I want to stop mourning the loss of what I was before. I want to feel sexy again. I want to feel carefree and scintillating, but I don't want it just because I am determined any more. I want a fairy tale dropped into my lap.
My little lost ship of a self is floating around, trying to avoid sun stroke and enjoying the job of quietly tying knots and drifting as best I can while my legs long for land again.