Lonely Desparate Hearts
Is it so wrong?
To just let our poor bleeding hearts tell us what to do, is that so wrong?
It’s a horrible desperate feeling, being trapped in your mind. It affects you sleeping and when you’re awake, in everything .
You try concentrating on other things but eventually, what you’re trying to forget comes back to haunt you. She’s gone. She didn’t leave, you did. She was driving you insane. She desperately would welcome me home if I could accept the things that I couldn’t accept. I couldn’t accept that she was the most non-intimate nonsexual person (to me)I had ever been with.
I loved her so much more than I can say and I was learning to hate her with the same degree of deep passion . . This crushing feeling just doesn’t seem to go away and it turns to anger, eventually.
You count the days. You play the music that you loved together. It seems like rubbing salt in the wound because you cry uncontrollably. I really need to be loved. I flat out don’t feel it. I feel like I’m being torn apart inside.
Just the need to be intimate is so strong. I don’t mean sex although that’s ever so important and wonderful and another thing entirely . I mean intimacy. Just holding somebody that you love looking into their eyes and breathing each other’s breath and sharing the joy of placing tender kisses all over each other’s faces while holding each other tenderly for just as long as you want. I need that and frankly, I need that really bad. I’m a bit hard-core and I’m not a prude. I want our mouths to be as one and I want to mix up our tongues so much that we don’t know whose tongue is whose. I want to taste your sweat. God stop me now because that’s not what this is about.
I want to do that to someone and I want someone to do that to me and quite frankly many people would do just fine. It’s very hard to describe the feeling of being unloved and desparate for intimacy . Some people call it being lonesome. Maybe that’s what it is. When you share a romantic kiss with a person that you like, that icky feeling inside of you just starts to melt away.
Please don’t put judgement on what I’m about to tell you. It’s not a cheap act that should be judged. It’s a beautiful thing if no harm is done.
Using alcohol wasn’t doing me any good whatsoever. Needing intimacy is a chewing, scraping, grinding kind of agony that never stops. You might think it went away while you were sleeping, but how did it appear the very second you awoke unless you felt it all night long. We are social animals and when that part of us is starving, it hurts so much. Sometimes I want to scream. Seeing other loving couples only adds fuel to the fire inside me.
Well naturally my mind came around to the idea that maybe I’ll try with somebody new. I love the idea of being single and free and any lady could be mine, maybe. But it’s not exactly like that with me because I’m trying to forget somebody. Starting with somebody new sounds so pathetic. No one can be like her, why even try. I can never love like that again. I could never have feelings that deep for anyone new. It’s useless to even try but what the hell, I must try again in fairness to myself. I have a right to have whatever I want God dammit. I have to try because I’m a human being and I have a right to have love and be loved. I refuse to give up.I can’t let her take that away from me .
I don’t know if what I did was a good thing or a bad thing but we were two consenting adults.
I went into a fast food place one night to get something and Bird Feathers was sitting at a table by herself. We didn’t talk much. I never got her name or knew anything about her but our brains communicated so well that we left together.
She wasn’t cheap and neither was I. We just needed each other for a while.
I think brains communicated without words being said.. We went to the park in the night and sat on a picnic table and kissed passionately for a very long time. There was no groping there was no sex, just human affection. I told her over and over again how much I loved her because I just needed to say that to somebody, because I was crying inside. She knew I wasn’t saying it to her. We didn’t even know each other. We just kissed and held each other tightly . I felt my lonely feelings subside, maybe she did too. We didn’t talk . After a few hours , we each went our own way home. I never saw her again but I think about her often. My name for her was Bird Feathers because she wore them in her hair.
At the time, having bird feathers as a surrogate lover was the best thing that ever happened to me. Maybe it’s just me, but everything was wonderful after that. Somehow I didn’t feel lonely after that when I thought of her. Men are a strange breed. I won’t deny that .
