It’s The Little Things That Count

I had a boyfriend once
well, I've had a few, but this one in particular was a long distance thing

We'd met
he'd gone home
we'd talked and talked and talked
and he was able
a month later
to come visit.

It was strange at first, but good in the end and that's not the point
because the point is when he was leaving I knew I'd miss him
knew it'd be hard to be apart for another month
or two
so I asked if I could keep a shirt of his
until he came back

that shirt
of his
the one he looked
so
very
sexy in

and he said no

No, it was his favourite shirt
he couldn't leave it with me
and that stung
was not-to-be-ignored red flag number seven or eight
perhaps
but I was stuffing all the flags away in a drawer
not keeping count but the truth of this all is that
it's the little things
and I knew

I could tell it wouldn't work.

I had another boyfriend
true story, I did
and he had to move
(he chose to move)
for work
and we were going to
make it work
long distance
shorter distance
but still
long
and I asked for his hoodie

the one he always wore
looked cute in
(looked good on me too)
the one I'd borrowed when he went away for the weekend
that one time
and snuggled
while missing him

and
he
said
no.

I don't remember why
I just remember he said no
and
while it wasn't
really
that red of a flag
I'm remembering it now
because it's the little things that matter.

Things are hard with Flynn and I right now
have been for a while
and I've told him before
that it would help me
sometimes
if I had a hoodie of his
a shirt
something to hold
or be held by
when I wasn't able to see him
was worried
spinning in my head
missing him
or sad

so I asked again
this morning
before I left
eyes puffy from our talks
my fears
that I knew he couldn't give me answers to
and I knew he couldn't be there for me
while he worked
and thought
and tried to sort through things and I knew this week would be hard for me
that I'd struggle with not knowing
not being able to make things the way I want
that I'd miss him
miss feeling like it would maybe just be ok after all
so I asked
not sure what he'd say
but guessing it wouldn't be a no

"could I have a hoodie of yours?"

it's the little things that count
it is
because Flynn
dear Flynn
stood and went and got me a hoodie
from his pile of hoodies
and jackets
and shirts
and pants
Flynn
came back
held it out to me
handed it to me
as I sat
raw and vulnerable

"Here."

"I know it's got holes in it and such, but, it's my favourite"

"It's my favourite" he said

What's the opposite of a red flag?
a giant
screaming
this is a good thing
kind of flag?

Because Flynn didn't just say no

Flynn said yes
Flynn gave me something that meant a lot to him

I hadn't asked for his favourite
I'd just asked for
something

a little piece of him to hold
to wear
to wrap around my torso like a hug from him

I'd thought he'd give me one he wouldn't miss
if he'd given me one at all

But Flynn
did more than that

Flynn
who had reached out for me that morning
laid his hand over my back
to touch me
feel me
first thing
who had been
quiet in his room
trying not to wake me
who had held me as I cried
drawn me close
kissed my forehead
lips
hand
soul

Flynn
gave me something
I hadn't asked for

Flynn gave me a little piece of him

a minor sacrifice perhaps in the grand scheme of life
but Flynn's the first
he is
and
it matters
it does

I wish so much I could wrap this story up with a happy ending of U/us living happily ever after forever
and ever
with cherries on top
(and sprinkles)
(and syrup and all sorts of things a little/lot less than vanilla)

but all I know is it's here
his hoodie
and I'm putting it on
being held
by him

because he
with the smallest of things
that he may not even think about
he
makes me know
that he cares

for real

about me

and that matters

because it's the little things that count
sometimes

Through Love Filled Eyes

I am so
so
talented
at ripping people apart

Send me an image of almost any woman?
And I can tell you what's wrong with her shape
figure
skin
weight
hair
look
anything.

I'll find a flaw

and it sucks

It sucks
and it hurts
and it also means I do it to myself
constantly

Walk past a reflective surface and I am
so
so amazingly good
at ripping myself apart

Take a photograph of me?
Make the
image permanent?
And it just gives me more time to pick and pick and pick myself apart.

Christy Turlington...
she's one of the few women I can think of
that I've never found flaw with
never found her anything but gorgeous
beautiful
stunningly perfect

I could probably name some others
masters of the screen
of print
with whom I have never been able to pick
pick
pick

Ms Hepburn escapes my dark and nasty findings
Grace Kelly too
I'm sure I could find some others
who are
not
what
I
am

who are
perfect
and
gorgeous
and
have no
flaws

unlike
me

So where does this lead me?
This
horror I have
deep inside my head

because it's not my soul
not my heart
I can look at my best friend
see her un-beautiful skin
and face
and looks
and see the most stunningly gorgeous person in the world
who fills my heart with such joy
I must needs explode with it

it's my head
that sees the flaws
in the rest of us

sees the photo and either says she's better than I am
or here's what's wrong
with her
anyway

I do not like this part of me
and am unsure how
best
to change it

I want to look at me
and see
Audrey Hepburn
Grace Kelly
Christy Turlington
best friend
perfection

And I want to look at all of us
and see
beauty
and grace
and sexiness

and I want to want
all of you

I want to see the
un-flaws
the
perfect we all have
in spades

I want to look at a photo
of almost any woman
and just
see
what is
not what I see
as wrong
or
ugly
or big
or bumpy
or
lumpy
or odd

Maybe where I start
is finding the best
in each woman

and
letting myself
see the perfect
in them
and me

see the
sexy
in me
what I have
who I am

no more picking
no more ripping
let that go
let it go
let it go

see my flaws
and
fat
and
weird bits
and imperfections
and see
what those who love me
must see

the way I see my best friend

let me stare at myself
until I see me
the way I
see her

through love-filled-eyes.

Come To Bed With Me

come to bed with me
come
come wrap your arms around me
come
share my space with me
come
be close and intimate, naked and raw
come
let me feel your skin against mine
let me soak you in
let me press against you
and
curl
into
you
come
come to bed with me
I need you
let me be yours
let me feel you
one arm under me
crook of my neck
so I can feel my back
against your stomach
the other arm
over me
so I can wrap myself around it
hands
fingers
arms
legs
all
wanting to be touching you
touched by you
touching
my skin
your skin
just skin
nothing else
come
come to bed with me
feel the
soft sheets
warm blankets
heads on pillows
making indentations in the down
I will feel your leg heavy against mine
will lounge in this closeness
burrow into the sensations
come to bed with me
come
and let me fall into you
into us
come

I'll Just Be Waiting Here

"I'll Just Be Waiting Here" 

Model: Waking Dreamer

In Mysterious Ways

The gorgeous Waking Dreamer

"In Mysterious Ways"