Archive for trust

The Test

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 11, 2009 by 1writegirl

On this test

My answers to
The questions
Pass back and forth

No pencils, templates
Or cramming involved

It’s a Life Test
That has to do
With things

Like knowing when
To reach out
Your hand
And when to
Hold it back

And wait to be
Reached for

Accepting with
The gut
What the mind
Already knows

That genuine caring
For someone
Isn’t about


But rather about

Of expression
Of movement
Of self

Trusting they know
You are there

Whether or not
You are there

Throwing aside all
Preconceived notions
And worn out

Offering up

The most
You can

The acknowledgement
That their truth is

Just as real

Every bit
As justified

As driving

Your own

An Honest Conversation

Posted in Meanderings, Poetry with tags , , , , , , on October 27, 2009 by 1writegirl

Sexual healing
Heat exchange

No need for words
Silent trust

Changing nothing
That’s been said
Replacing nothing


In a world

Of thought
A fleeting

An honest conversation
Between two bodies

The Prism

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 26, 2009 by 1writegirl

Why do you stay with me?
He asked
In a voice wracked with pain

You know why
She replied
Though she could have asked
That question herself
In the seductive shadow of sleep

She sometimes wonders
Why she stays
When he rarely seeks her out
And needs her even less

When he won’t let her cross
The threshold
To that place free of
Have-to’s and fears

But between the lines
Behind three little words
Is the answer to his question

The truth lies there, a prism
In colors of intricate depth

She stays

Because to be close to him
In any way he’ll let her
Brings her moments of

Simple, perfect peace
In a life of chaos and strife

Because he’s teaching her
What it means
To accept someone


For everything they are
And everything they are not

Because he won’t lie to her

Because she can make him laugh

Because it’s okay in his presence
To say not a single


Because she’s learning how
To trust
After having been betrayed

Because he tells her
She is one
Of only three people on earth
He can speak to
From brain to mouth

Which gives her courage
To reciprocate
To confide any thoughts she has

Even ones he might wish
She didn’t

Because in his arms
She understands freedom
And can’t imagine
Another man’s kiss

Because he’s hard

He makes her crazy
Yet he touches her
In places she needs to be touched
Where no one else can reach

Because with him
She’s a better person
Than she could ever be

Because he’s
Her best friend
And one of these days
He might look at her

And see that she is his

And then
She won’t need to ask him

Why do you stay with me?

I Will

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 8, 2009 by 1writegirl

I will

Tell you if you have green stuff stuck in your teeth

Never ask you to live in a house
With a white picket fence

Respect your need for solitude

Dance for you…

I will

Be flexible

Speak from brain to mouth
Without filtration

Massage your tired body

Not pretend
Neither shape
Nor expect…

I will

Always love Mamita
Even when she’s old and sick

Care what you think

Cover you

Trust you…

I will

Help you when I can

Remain your biggest fan

Look you in the eye

Hold what you can give and
Give what you can hold…

I will

Always be on your side

The Road to Monterey

Posted in Prose with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 3, 2009 by 1writegirl

I was nervous about our reunion, afraid his feelings might have changed. Yet he held me tight when he saw me, and we talked for hours over late night breakfast at Denny’s, where the coffee is always hot. When we fell into bed, it felt to me like coming home after an exhaustive journey to a faraway place. Fever held within gradually released, hungry hands and mouths seeking and finding, replaced by trust passing through layers of body and soul all mixed up together. The following night I asked for the words. Do you love me? Absolutely. And I sighed with relief, all was right with the world.

The next day we grabbed a coffee, headed north out of San Luis Obispo. We thought about taking 101 all the way to Monterey, and my mind flitted briefly to Steinbeck and Cannery Row, and flop houses where hookers were groomed to be wives. But I got the stupid idea to go look at studios instead; I thought it was what we both wanted. But that night he told me, I don’t want to make plans of any kind right now. I just want to work and take each day one step at a time, Ok? I agreed, and drove back to Oregon, where the days pass much like they did before, except now when he writes to say, Nothing’s changed, he’s careful to never say I love you or even to say I miss you; too afraid, I suppose, that doing so might give me the wrong idea. It feels sometimes like we’re going backwards, until I remember that we have never been here before.

So I follow his lead, putting my right foot forward as his left goes back, wishing for Audrey Hepburn’s grace, my form shadowing his. Letting him set the pace and holding on ever so loosely, just enough to keep the connection. He makes occasional reference to us in the unveiling of his soul, as only a true poet can do, letting the frayed edges of his hope slide across the face of my beating heart. Reminders that there are no formulas, or calendars in love, only roads that sometimes take unexpected turns, with yield signs, or miles of traffic that hamper your yearning for speed; sometimes closed for construction, sometimes newly paved. Reminders that it might take more than one cup of coffee on the road to Monterey.

Unexpected Bonuses of Being Apart from the One You Love, And, What I Miss Most

Posted in Prose with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 29, 2009 by 1writegirl

On the Plus Side: Beneficial Byproducts of Separation

You get to lose weight, without even trying.

You have sudden bursts of energy, especially after you’ve just heard from him, which make you very productive indeed.

You now have time to do all those little mundane chores you put off doing while he was here, like defrosting the freezer, clipping your toenails, and organizing your car’s maintenance and repair records.

You remember that you had a life of your own before he came along, and you’ve got one still. I’ve always, without exception, taken care of myself, and I am not dependent on someone else for my happiness (this kind of self-talk, which I picked up through many fruitful visits to therapists over the years, can be very useful.)

You are forced to make a choice between falling victim to your insecurities, or trusting that voice inside of you which tells you that sometimes you have to let go of that which means the most to you. That doesn’t mean pretending your feelings don’t exist, it means not allowing them to be demanding. This is the same voice that popped up out of nowhere the first day we met, took one look at him and in bewildered awe, said, It’s Him. Yass, I do believe it’s really Him. You remind yourself he’s got a voice too, and from time to time it inspires him to write poems about you, poems that speak of hope. You trust yourself because you have to. You trust him, because your love isn’t worth much if you don’t.

On the Down Side: What I Miss Most

Cooking, shopping, and writing together.

Going for a walk, particularly after dark.

Going and getting lattés and cappuccinos in the morning, afternoon, whenever, just because it feels like a good time for coffee.


Hearing him say, “How come you’re so hot?”, “What do you see in me?” and “God, I love you.”

Just hanging out together.

Touching him.

His fingers in my hair.

Conversations with your best friend. About anything & everything. While eating breakfast or at two in the morning, with no barriers, walls, or secrets.

His kisses. Like manna from heaven, life-affirming. They are a language unto themselves.

I miss these two things from the deepest places within me.