It's cold in my house, and there is a scent that still lingers on the pillow that lays next to mine. The loud sighs in the night are no longer a loved one but instead a vacant house. The cat may stir. The heater turns on. But I awake alone to face a beautiful day.
It has been about 3 days since the Appalachian woman left my house back for her dwelling in West Virginia. Circumstances were kind to both of us this time and we enjoyed some really passionate nights together. I miss coming home to an active mind and an engaging, loving person in my house.
Experience always contains truth waiting to be deciphered. The experience of having my heart race and mind calmed into the hypnotic lust of a lover's grip taught me to feel more. Right now I contemplate the nerves that tell the hands to type. The same nerves were telling my muscles to rub the back of her neck gently, massaging the muscles around her cervical vertebrae and at the base of her skull.
It's such a surrender of the intellect when you submit yourself to someone. It has been said that men never submit to a woman unless they see something of a goddess in her, and woman something of a god.
For now, I sit and learn avidly. There are people around me with so much fire in them. Too may neurons, people, are stuck in the recurrent collaterals that snub this creative and productive fire.
For now, I resigned myself the extraneous pursuit of drunkenness and connection. I prefer to sit at home and think than to dull my wits and drink. These chemicals mean more to me than a failed attempt at sex or a playful kiss in passing.
I feel myself in a state of being, knowing, longing...and yet...content.
I miss her. I loved our time together. How quick does stardust disintegrate into that which has no meaning? How can such moments as those have meaning that lasts, to me, as though they are eternity?
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