Ink Stained Soul…

I sit.
Looking out my window at the moon and stars.
On the dock and watch the sparkles of the sunlight dancing across the water.
Under the light of the moon, confessing with my words and tears.
In my bed, while darkness takes me.
I sit.
And there you still are.

This is about love…

Is it worth the pain?
Describe love to me from your perspective in experiences and in your hopes & dreams?
Do you believe in different loves?
Fate,  past lives,  karmic s for lessons, soul mates…
Is it worth the risk of living your life your way? What would you risk?
What would love never do?
(Feel free to elaborate)
( if leave name on email body I will give credit in the publishing for you or leave it anonymously)
What are you favorite actions to be loved from someone?

The moon grounds me. Her majestic light calls to me, inviting me to know her. She becomes my best friend, holding all of my most profound thoughts. Reminding me that every phase, beauty is still there. The outward appearance is not the secret; it is found within her glow.

I’m dreamy in every way. Never afraid to allow myself to feel every single emotion and let it wash over me. Etched within my soul lies an ocean of depth. Music is the grounding force of my life, while the moon is my guiding light. I am someone who feels things deeper than you could imagine. My passion is forged in fire. If you are lucky enough to ignite it, I will allow it to consume everything in its wake. When I am forced to see anyone with bad intentions towards me or what I love, I am cold enough to allow my fire to stay hidden while I await the correct time to take action. I am gentle, so if I go there, you earned it. Writing allows me to escape and give parts of me a voice. I am fiercely protective and guarded. I am raw, unique, and unapologetically myself.

Reaching back into my childhood plagues me with questions of why I was never enough. Why was I the discarded one? Why was I so hard to love? Why did everyone always abandon me? I thought that for most of my life, I was meant to only show love, never receive it. That I had to earn the attention of those I loved, and yet it was never fully attainable. This plagued my existence far longer than I would like to admit, but it no longer does. It was him. He told me I never needed them and I should never let myself be treated that way, even by him. He warned me he would destroy me, and he did in ways. I watched a part of myself die living in a constant state of grief of the loss. But he also taught me to save myself, and in that, I learned to love myself, helping me heal that part of myself that needed it most.

I encompass magic. It is mine and mine alone. Not to be shared of given away.  My gift is my presence to lead you to find the magic within yourself. That is how I lead with love.

How did we get so lost so fast this time? How did we lose us so quickly? I remember laying in your arms, you kissing my forehead, telling me not to get into my own head. I thought I was going to be the one, but somehow you stopped wanting me. What happened? What did I do?
Was any of it real at all, or is it all just on my end truly? Am I the only one that feels our connection, and it’s gone from you completely?
Do you hate me for reasons I am unaware of? Is that why you told me you were going to destroy me slowly and enjoy it? I thought you meant something good, but maybe this is really you destroying me from always finding you when you really hate that we are connected. Why? Why go through that? Why hurt me on purpose, just to break my heart and walk away? Cut me off from everything, and that would damn near kill me. Why drag out killing me? I can’t believe you would want to hurt me so much.
I will never walk away from how I feel about you. I may not stick around to watch you destroy me, but I will never walk away from loving you.

You have too much baggage; no one will ever want to take that on. You are too different and dreamy for anyone to take you seriously. Your heart is too soft; you seem disingenuous. You are too much, always full of emotions. My trauma is too heavy to be carried by another. I never believed those lies, because I still woke up loving myself and believing he would find me, loving me as beautifully as I would him, always choosing love and refusing to believe what the world keeps trying to tell me.

Pain has become my companion. It’s right there as my eyes open, ripping me apart from the inside and demanding that I recall the reason it’s there. The ghosts of another’s actions force me to learn to live with it, no matter how bad it hurts, making some days hard to even stand up straight.

Every time I try to move forward, I’m overwhelmed with memories of us. I see myself standing in his room, wearing nothing but his blue shirt, looking at books on his shelf. He went to get me water. Flashes of him carrying me down the hallway, clothes left along the path, kissing me and touching me. I’m consumed by the image of a man desperate for the touch of a woman that can never get enough of him. I remember every moment of our nights together, haunted by images of us that I never want to forget, burned inside me.
I am still his.