I look at photos of us and can’t help but smile.
You make me so happy.
I feel like I don’t deserve you.
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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@listentomynoise
I look at photos of us and can’t help but smile.
You make me so happy.
I feel like I don’t deserve you.
I don’t think I knew that love was so all-consuming.
I listened to love songs, read romance novels, watched the movies.
But no one could have explained the certainty you feel when you are loved for being yourself.
No one mentioned the safety and security in exposing yourself to a person who has only ever looked at you with love, kindness and admiration.
I probably would have been looking harder if I knew this was the reward.
How lucky to even feel this for a fleeting moment, let alone a lifetime.
All my best photos of the year are standing next to you.
Polyamory
A primary relationship is like having a whole tv show set in the local neighbourhood. It’s the local school and the local shops and the doctors and your family and your workplace and your grocer. It’s like having all these things in a major city. Convenient, consistent and familiar.
A secondary relationship is like for that one episode in season 5 they go to England to shoot a scene. Could be light touch, a comet, a friend with benefits. But none of those have anything to do with the hometown major city. It could be serious, but still separated. It could be a regular occurring scene, like the two people cross paths often in each others cities, but never their families or work or anything else.
Then there’s those who are so enmeshed in their polycule they stay in each others homes, they’re known by the families, they know the grocer and the workplace but maybe not the doctor.
It didn’t matter which kind of relationship it is, every part is hard.
It’s hard to be a comet who is so distanced from the primary couple that even seeing the comet partner is a rare occurrence. They are of little impact to the bigger picture decision making of the primary couple.
It’s hard to be a secondary that is removed, that will not be considered when decisions are made. To be so important yet so insignificant in someone’s life that you factor, but not enough. Like a 10% share in the partners decision making which makes you about 2.5% in the decision making of the couple. You are important enough to make plans with but not around.
Does this feeling change when you are enmeshed? Or is it still the same feeling of being othered in comparison to the primary relationship/ family, major city, big investment permanent set.
Polyamory is not for the feint hearted.
I’ll always come back to you.
Boyfriend.
There’s something wildly comforting about fitting so comfortably in someone’s arms. About looking up right into their eyes. About hooking your leg up over there’s at the perfect angle. About their warmth being the right temperature in the cold.
I made an agreement with the moon while I was driving today
She said she would look out for you
Even when I can’t be near you.
The clouds even took the night off
Making sure I had a clear line of sight
The moon shining directly at me.
A reminder that however far you are,
Even though time is never on our side,
The moon will come up at night and shine over you
And I can be sure you’re there
Looking at the same moon
Imagine you’re walking.
You have just regular clothes on and it’s hot and you’re just doing the walking.
Then you see a beautiful flower. Most beautiful flower you’ve ever seen. And you want it. It’s looking at you. Just beautiful. And you can pick it, but where do you put it?
Say you pick it. You hold it in your hand and you keep walking. And slowly, slowly it gets hot. And crumpled. And it bruises. And you get back to your car, and it’s not as beautiful as it was. It’s just a flower that was beautiful in the moment.
Or you leave it there. And just think of all the ways you could have taken it back and cared for it and loved it. But you go back to your car, empty handed, at peace because the flower is still being beautiful over there.
Or. Or you see it. You drop a pin. And you go back every day and water it. Clear the weeds. More plants grow nearby. Because you love it. You just spend all the time you can in the meadow you’ve created. Just blossoms and green and sunlight. But it’s not your space.
Who’s to say that one day someone doesn’t come and walk through the meadow. A car. Or a bike or a whatever. Anything. It doesn’t matter. It’s not yours. It’s not your space. You can love it as much as you want. You can water and weed and garden as much as you want. You can feel love back from the garden when it flourishes under your touch.
But it’s not yours.
It’s shared.
I know now why they write so many songs about love.
It’s because you could write a million songs and they wouldn’t begin to crack the surface of how wild love runs.
I love you differently when you’re sleeping and when you’re talking and when you’re rambling and when you smile.
I love you more when you open the door for me or drive when it’s raining or you look at me when I’m driving.
I love you differently when you’re worried about your family or when you talk about travel or when you think about the future.
I love you in a wild, unrestrained kind of way when you touch me, when you say words of passion to me, when you tick things off my bucket list.
I love you longingly when we’re across oceans, when we’re busy, when time gets away from us.
I love you deeply when you look into my eyes, when you say I love you and when you reach for me in the night.
I love you, in different ways every moment of every day.
There could never be enough songs to describe every single way a person can love and be loved.
Your energy feels like a 40 watt globe lighting up the darkest of spaces.
A pub or a bar or a speakeasy.
A place where there’s happiness, chatter, connection.
It’s dark on purpose, but emphasised with your soft gentle glow.
He said I might be falling in love with you.
I see the stars when we lock eyes
I feel fire when I hold your hand
The world explodes when you are inside me
The sun hits my skin when you look at me
A wave crashes at my back where you touch me
Waiting for you feels like a plane taxing the runway.
The clouds come out overhead whenever you leave me
You are magic, music and light.
I love getting back into bed with the reminder that you were here earlier today. I have a shocking memory, but I can replay laughing with you and watching you cum with such detail. I can see the definition of your arms and the wrinkle next to your eyes. I can feel the sweat on your chest as I lie right next to you, tired, satisfied.
We met some kids travelling and they reminded me of me in 2018/2019. Like my whole world revolved around travel. I could rattle off geography like it was a sport. I had my next trip planned and layed out; just waiting for enough money to book the ticket or the next piece.
I feel so far removed from that person I was. I can feel how much I needed escape back then, and I don’t NEED it now. It’s fun. It’s so much fun to go on adventures with people you love. But I don’t feel the need to escape anymore. It has just been a good two weeks and I’m so bloody excited to go home. And live in my house. And start my new job. And go cuddle my babies. And go on cute dates.
Travelling to a place you’ve been before is a mix of fear, excitement and nostalgia. It reminds you that you are well travelled, but that any time you spend away from a place means that you will come back to it being different.
Coming back to a place you have been before means feeling safe with its people, but unsure of their intentions.
Being in a place you have spent time in before is an opportunity to visit your past self, a chance to remember snippets of memories that evoke an emotion of past.
It feels like time travel.
Borrowing a library book and being sad someone had read the pages before you.