Thursday, May 21, 2009


I stand, nose pressed against the cool glass and yearn into the endless sky which sweeps past in a dizzying expanse of cerulean want and possibilities of another life. I hear the call of the lake, the mournful seeking cry pulling me into the coolness of its embrace.

I am restless and discontented today, chafing at responsibilities and demands, my skin aching

I miss being bound…I miss the sweet touch of rope holding me tight and safe and embraced in caring. My back aches with the need to feel the sting of want across its pale surface. I lean my forehead against the cool windowpane and ache for what was.

My masochism huddles deep in my belly, curled up in a fearful huddle of limbs and need. So long. So long since I fed the need. So long since I felt the sting against my back, the hot, wanting lash of his desire, kissing pink into my spine and blushing lust into the curve of waist, the swell of hip. The feel of his hand against the meat of my bottom, the hot stinging thud, the wriggling, needy, stomach tingling frisson of him against my belly, firm, aching and moist.

I sigh and my eyes drink in the mumbling grey of the lake as it moves restlessly under the wheeling expanse of sky and horizon, and press against the window as if I would dive into the freedom of flight and then find the cool, damp embrace of lake enveloping me in its healing want.

I want to feel my wrists chafing in the binding of spirit. I want to feel the certitude of right and sink deep into my mind and find that small, intimate place where I sit tranquil and with a heart so full of quiet joy that the water from my selkie soul wells up and spills into the reality of now and feel his finger gently trace the glistening trail down my flushed cheek.

I want to lie quiet in my surrender and feel the faint fluttering as I wait patiently for the anticipated hurt, pain I understand and pull into my soul to savour, the sting of lash, the whistle of the cane or the sweet, warmth of flesh on flesh and in the doing, there is giving and in the giving there is acceptance.

I sigh and my eyes blur and fill with regret and mourn the loss of faith and the severing of trust .

Sunlight spills through the cool air and like a capricious kitten skitters through the green glint of leaves which dance and flutter their aching newness in gleeful abandon in the square below. Smoke eddies through the air from the iron and steel of tomorrow’s world and teases my memory with other moments which trail tears through my thoughts and sting regret into my heart.

I am fallow. A parched field, untilled and forgotten. And I realize as my heart beats painfully against the prison of my chest that like a phantom limb, the ache of my loss continues.


moonheart said...

Beautifully written!
A hug for you.....

Angel said...

Oh selkie.

I ache for you.

Liras said...

One day, you will look at your bound wrists and not even remember this.

cutesy pah said...

Oh honey, how sad for you. I can't imagine the pain you must feel.

many hugs,
cutesy pah

Buffalo said...

Beautifully expressive. You done good!

vanimp said...

Quietly stands beside you and presses her nose to the pane too and drapes an arm around your shoulder and says nothing *hugz* x

ronnie said...

Sending hugs to you Selkie.


Louise said...

Wish we could really sit in the kitchen and share more than written words. The writing is beautiful as you are, in all ways.

Anonymous said...

Your writing is so damn good.

john smith said...

nice work.......thanks

shopping products website

Anonymous said...

that was beautiful

you are quite the wordsmith

Kes said...

Yes, I am right there. Whether it is the capricious spring that taunts with moisture and then burns with unforgiving sun, the need is there. Driven up and out into longing that once felt is not easily buried back into the darkness. Unwilling to lie fallow and unused, unwilling to be simply the dross in the cruicible, waiting for the touch of magic to transform you into brilliance, beauty, divine anguish. I know... I am right there with you.