Sometimes Your Heart Needs More Time to Accept What Your Mind Already Knows

bed1I haven’t been writing on www.demezw.com as much as I have in previous years, focusing on finishing up a couple novels but sometimes you see a quote that’s so perfect you have to get an article out of it. “Sometimes your heart needs more time to accept what your mind already knows.” Perfectly sums up what a lot of people are going through in everyday life.

I’ve gotten back to my roots of being more of a reader than a writer in the past couple months. Whether it’s novels, articles or blogs; I’ve allowed my mind and imagination to become a sponge. I see a lot of articles on relationships and what you should or shouldn’t accept. So much of it is black and white. When the truth is, relationships are rarely black and white; the same can be said for most aspects of life.

We are not robots or computers that can act without emotion. Pain, pleasure, passion, heartbreak, love, depression, these are all traits that make us who we are and sometimes traits that override common sense or the logical choice.

Knowing what you need to do is completely different than actually doing it. I can quote song lyric after song lyric about the woman that’s in love with a man she shouldn’t be in love with. Whether it’s Country Music, Rock, Blues, Hip Hop or R&B. That feeling is universal because love is a universal language. I’ve watched Operas that were in Latin or French and couldn’t understand a word but through music and emotion I was able to feel it.

The “feeling it” aspect to life and love isn’t something you can quantify or control. It grabs you and smothers you until it decides to let you go. That’s your heart telling your mind, “I know what we have to do, I just need a little more time.”

Naked Attractions

Photo-0105 How many years did Adam and Eve run around before they realized they were naked? She often wondered that when she would open the door naked, sleep naked, go to the kitchen in the middle of the night with nothing on but nail polish. For as long as she could remember it never bothered her. Men she dated thought it was because she wanted to be sexy, friends thought she wanted to get a shock out of them but once they got to know her, really know her. They just realized she loved her body and didn’t see it as anything worth hiding.

She always wore her robe when the children were around but since their rooms were upstairs and hers downstairs as soon as they were sleep the robe came off. Lying in bed, her attention divided between Instagram and a book she heard the knock on the door. Not thinking twice she got up to open it, her friend told her she was on her way.

Pulling the door open her smile faded. Her eyes red, the overnight bag in her hand. A baseball cap covering her curly hair, she knew she wasn’t in a good place. Pulling her in for a hug, they just stood there in the doorway. Squeezing her, rubbing her back, she had no idea what the warmth of her body was doing the woman. How her scent entwined with her friend’s vulnerability created a tension masked as sadness.

There were four bedrooms in the house, her children each had a room and there was a guestroom. She Melissa needed to talk so she didn’t think twice when she followed her to her room and got in the bed with her. Watching her friend take off her cap and jeans and climb in the bed she felt guilty. Their relationship wasn’t what it used to be and a lot of that was on her. Work and kids demanded time, time she didn’t have to be the friend she once was.

“Is he still at your apartment?” The covers were under the covers together, thigh to thigh, she didn’t answer right away but she knew she’d heard her.

“He left a couple days ago. I’ve been at work mostly, spent a night at my moms, then my sisters, now I’m here. Every time I climb into that bed I feel him inside of me, is that weird? That my body is reacting to a man that’s not even there? I go in the kitchen and I see beer in the fridge, I hate beer. I’m so used to sleeping in his t-shirts it felt weird putting on a nightgown.”

She was venting, ranting but she knew what it was like to lose someone that mattered. Those first couple weeks it was like you couldn’t imagine what life was like before that person.

“Can I tell you something crazy.” She turned on her pillow facing her, the sheets falling to her waist.

“What?” She smiled, having gotten used to the braces.

“He told me I was in love with you.” She started laughing, laughing so hard tears came to her eyes.

“He said what?! Men really are a trip, he cheats and gets caught so he makes some shit up in his head? Asshole.” It wasn’t until she looked at her friend’s face that she realized she wasn’t laughing or even smiling.

“Lissa, tell me he’s crazy.” The silence made her wish she was wearing clothes, at least a pair of panties.

“I wish I could say he was lying.” She put her hands in her head, wondering if she’d noticed something before. A look, a smile?

“You’re beautiful Elle, you’re funny and sexy and you’re always here when I just need a friend. I pleasure myself to you. One night I stayed over and you and Tim were having sex. I guess because all the other rooms are upstairs you two had the door cracked. I just came down for some water but when I heard the moans I came in and saw you riding him. The way your hips moved and your hair falling. Your ass bouncing. I just watched and wondered when it would feel like to have you on top of me like that.”

A part of her knew this was real, she had some wine and was a little sleepy but there was no doubt in her mind her friend of six years was really saying this to her. Flashbacks of the one time she’d ever been with a woman erupted in her mind. It was the first time in her life she’d had an orgasm. No man had touched her the way that woman did but she threw up immediately afterwards and felt like it was wrong regardless of what her body told her.

Was she giving her friend signals without knowing it? She was naked, inches from her in a bed as they were talking.

“Say something. You’re not blind, you know I’ve been with women before. You’re lying in bed with nothing on. Opening the door with nothing on! I could kiss you in places and do things to you that no man can!”

Before she knew it she was standing up with the sheet wrapped around her. Not feeling comfortable with the way she was looking at her. Watching her take off her tank top, step out her panties and come towards her she gripped the sheet and backed up towards the door.

“You need to go upstairs and sober up and put your clothes back on. No matter what you think this isn’t happening! We’re friends and I’m not feeling you like that.”

Sitting on the bed crying she wanted to console her friend. She wanted to be there but now she just didn’t know.

To Be Continued…

The Loss of Love by: Countee Cullen

The Loss of Love

All through an empty place I go,
And find her not in any room;
The candles and the lamps I light
Go down before a wind of gloom.
Thick-spraddled lies the dust about,
A fit, sad place to write her name
Or draw her face the way she looked
That legendary night she came.

The old house crumbles bit by bit;
Each day I hear the ominous thud
That says another rent is there
For winds to pierce and storms to flood.

My orchards groan and sag with fruit;
Where, Indian-wise, the bees go round;
I let it rot upon the bough;
I eat what falls upon the ground.

The heavy cows go laboring
In agony with clotted teats;
My hands are slack; my blood is cold;
I marvel that my heart still beats.

I have no will to weep or sing,
No least desire to pray or curse;
The loss of love is a terrible thing;
They lie who say that death is worse.

Countee Cullen

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Love Letter #23

Dear Future Wife,

I love you. I don’t get to say those words often and I just like they way they feel coming off my finger tips. Off my tongue. I love you, I love you, I love you!

Okay. Now I’ve gotten that off my chest. I’m writing this as I sit in my driveway, the truth is there’s nothing for me in my house. It’s quiet and cold and I spend most of my time in my office. I haven’t slept in my bed in weeks.

No matter how far removed I am from having a woman in my life I still haven’t gotten used to sleeping alone.

I need you. I can’t do too many more random women. It may kill me. I need you to make me laugh when I’m mad at the world. I need you to sit on my lap and just hold me on nights when I can’t stop feeling like I’m a failure.

Have I ever told you I’m not afraid of death? I don’t want to die but I’m not scared of dying. I’m afraid of dying without knowing your warmth, your love, your heart.

Please….

Love Always and Forever,

Demez

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Dreams Love & Desire

398306_668007132375_118401058_31779582_1527629543_nDreams, love and desire all go hand in hand because they all have the same basic ingredient. They all require that we let go of whatever pride, ego or fear is holding us and let our minds or hearts free to do what it is they do. When we dream about our loves and desires it does something to us, it reminds us of just how happy we were or can be.

Getting off work, driving home, I was looking forward to dreaming. To showering, having a cold beer and lying down letting my desires explode thru my imagination. Living the things I write about in my mind for that three of four minutes that we dream. Seeing her naked, pregnant or walking down the aisle. Seeing sand, silk sheets or ocean front views. These are the things I dream about because these are the things I think about.

Sure, I have nightmares and I have them often but I will never let my nightmares dictate what it is I dream about.

If I’m being honest at 4am when I know most people are sleeping peacefully I miss love. Love calms me, it excites me, it motivates the writing and inspires the stories people love to read. Love has the ability to take one word and turn it into a sentence, it has the ability to turn once sentence and turn it into a novel. Sitting at this desk, I wonder is she dreaming about me? Is she going to wake up and read this and smile? I wonder if my dreams and desires will ever become my reality? Dreams are healthy because they inspire us to want what they represent.

I don’t know what the future holds for my thoughts and my being but I know I love the idea of waking up trying to dissect a dream and just what it meant. I love the idea of writing down every detail I could remember. Dreams allow me not to forget her face, her voice, her smile, her laugh. Dreams keep her alive in my world when our worlds no longer collide.

Say hello to the sandman the next time your head hits a pillow and watch your dreams, loves and desires take you to a place you probably forgot existed.

 

Author Demez F. White

Moist…

a nye imageThere aren’t many things that compare to a woman that smells good, maybe getting a check in the mail or that first bite of a really good steak. But knocking on the door, waiting while that lock clicks, and having that scent invade you. Whether it’s perfume or lotion or that moist smell when she’s straight out the shower that’s a combination of body wash and heat, it does something to me.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, my loins start to come to life, I just want to reach out and touch her. Feel the softness of her skin, the moistness.

“You knew I was on my way, so why aren’t you ready?”

Standing there in her towel, knowing the only thing that separated me from the feel of her moist skin was a purple cotton towel was erotic. It sat folded right above her breast, it sat right above her upper thighs. When I called her and told her I was ten minutes away she said she was ready and now here we were. A wicked smile on her face, Amel Larrieu on the speakers, her hair in a bun. “I promise I was getting ready and before my shower I stepped on the balcony to check the weather and it was all cold and wet; I figured we’d have more fun here. I mean, my wet is better than the wet out there right?” She started to take the towel off, I stopped her. “It’s more fun with the towel on.”

Holding her waist, pulling her close, whispering in her ear. “Dance with me?”

Her head on my chest, that hot and sweet scent soaking into my clothes I could feel our bodies pressing into each other, drawing each other in. Turning her back to me, moving her hips with the rhythm of the ballad I started to bite the back of her neck and shoulders, she laughed because it tickled but she didn’t ask me to stop because I knew that was her spot.

That’s why she loved in from the back, bent over or lying on her stomach. Because when I was inside of her and my lips were on the back of her neck the orgasms she reached were explosive. Every woman has a spot, every woman as a position, every woman  wants to be pleased but more than that they want to give pleasure. Her body pressed against mine, her towel raised up to her stomach, my hands finding the buried treasure I was controlling her spot, controlling the tempo. Fingering her moistness like Carlos Santana fingers his guitar chords. One finger inside, one finger on the button and my tongue singing the lyrics on the back of her neck. Pleasure only begets more pleasure.

“I told you my wet was better.”

Sitting on the couch, the towel falling to the floor, her feet on my thighs… She brought Heaven to my mouth and let honey drip down my chin. The harder her orgasm the harder I got, the wetter her nectar, the more she moved. I knew her body better than she knew her body and right now it wasn’t her body anymore. It was my conquest.

Special Nights…

If I’m being honest I’m lonely. Tonight was sort of special to me and I was thinking as I was in line at the liquor store buying a celebratory bottle of wine that it would have been really cool to talk about tonight with someone. Not a random date, not a friend, but someone I actually cared about and that cared about me.

The thing is, the thing that I’d only ever admit on this blog is that I’m just tired of the randomness. I need more, I need more than “I may be available,” or a text or call here or there. I deserve more than that. I know a lot of it is my pride but that’s not the only reason.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I women just don’t think I’m good enough. They think I have good traits and good mannerisms but there’s a disconnect about me that doesn’t allow them to fall as hard as they should.

Tonight I almost came to tears watching those actors on that stage. Watching them speak and cry and put the emotions to my words and thoughts. It was a sort of happiness, a sort of calm, a sort of feeling good about myself I haven’t felt in a long time. When you put the sort of expectations on yourself I put on me, it has a way of weighing you down, of stressing you out to the point that you drink and take a ambien almost every night just to sleep. I haven’t put out a book this year, no short stories and I think about that a lot. But tonight made up for that, tonight was worth sharing with someone special and since I don’t have that person, I’m sharing those thoughts with you.

Do you know what it’s like to be in love with someone that you know will never feel the same way? To have to smile and talk and pretend it’s all good just to come home and write till your hands cramp and your eyes are burning so you won’t think about them? I’ve known that pain before in my life, I’ve seen the face of a woman that you know you’ll never kiss, never caress. A woman that is everything you asked God for but God looked at you and said, “She’s not for you.” How do you share a perfect moment with a woman like that? How do you hug her and be happy for her knowing you’ll never be more than a talented writer and good friend?

You know how…

You just have faith that one day you’ll meet someone who cares about these moments that matter to you, just as much as you do. You’ll pray that you meet someone that you don’t have to downplay shit for, that you don’t have to pretend it’s not that serious.

The women sitting next to me in the theatre tonight, her boyfriend was a director in one of the other plays. She was the only person that knew I’d written the play, when it was over she grabbed my hand and told me it was really good. She was crying. She was Indian or maybe Israeli or something and in that moment I felt like I was going to be someone in life. In that moment I didn’t think about the fact that I was going home to drink this bottle of wine alone or that I think about becoming my father every day. I just felt proud of myself and wanted nothing more than to call someone and talk about it. Looking at my phone I realized there was no one so I’m doing what I do best. Writing about it.