"... The knife turns in our hands sometimes .... We don't know what we will find there when we first write a sentence."

A lesson I have learned most painfully time and time again, yet never listened to what it was trying to tell me until very recently.

I know that blood seeps from the wrist - always the wrist - onto the page or screen, and can be as painful as it is intimate. Pain and intimacy - in that, both words and blood share a common lineage. Hurt and ecstasy. Words pump through my veins as blood.

 

O ~
Big hugs and kisses from us to you.

Mwah!

HIM

 

Wow, this echoes much to personally. Great writing O.

 

A sad and ancient motto: I didn't know.

But don't we? We know, but we don't want to know. We can see the ending, but we think we can write it differently this time. And around we go again.

I think we all can find the courage to break the story, truly, and to recast it altogether. But the price is high. Most of us simply don't want to pay it.

As people say, When you know, you know.

It hurts to read you right now, because your pain rings out so clearly, but of course I will keep reading.

Love,

Mu Ling

 

How satisfyingly clear a chime this post made when it struck deep into my heart.

I understand of what you speak so very well, dear O... and kudos on phrasing it so eloquently.

Brava.
Juno x

 

juno love,

Thank you for your lovely comment. I knew you'd understand. ;)

xoxo
O

 

mu ling,

you are absolutely right, and as always eloquent.
I love your blog. I will be adding you link very soon, and will be writing you soon as well.

best wishes
O

 

alice,

Thank you! i appreciate your comment, and am glad that this spoke to you. Looking forward to chceking out your blog,

best wishes,
O

 

HIM,

oooh, and right back to you both...you know how I adore you.

Always thinking of you,
O

 

I know a thing or two about knives, the kind we wield with abject clarity.

Sometimes we forget how sharp it is until we nick a vein or two.

 

"Doors unlocking and opening; we don't know what we will find there when we first open a book, turn the key in some lock, write a sentence."

But when opening that book, how often are we able to skip right to the last few painful paragraphs?

I have many times been able to flip right to the end, so that I know full well the story's bitter and painful conclusion, yet I somehow feel that what happens between the hello and the goodbye might be worth the final suffering.

I am, more often than not, dead wrong.

 

Her-O, hold on with open hands. But embrace with with clarity of purpose, and kiss with open eyes, always.

If anyone can pull that off, I know that you can.

Hand to heart,
-p

 

O dear, time flows and cuts heal

xox

 

Yet many a man is making friends with death
even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
pinned down by need and moaning for release
or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It may well be. I do not think I would.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Love Is Not All

I imagine leaving you would be impossible. I imagine death would be preferred. What is life without love?

 

Doors unlocking and opening; we don't know what we will find there when we first open a book, turn the key in some lock, write a sentence.

Sometimes the words that come forth are unexpected. I can't tell you how many times I have written and then thought of erasing. How many times I have erased when i've realized just how vulnerable my own words have made me feel. Every revelation leaves me a little less protected, but somehow I feel like I'm cheating to do otherwise.

I love the beauty in your pain.

HER

 

And so, in the end, because where the beginning starts an end is sure to follow, in the end, you will have to be stronger than he.

The push-me pull-me won't you join the dance move replays on a loop while you feed each other what you need. But to what end?

I am killed by the knowledge that we both know...something. I feel my soul hurt just a little when I think about this, you, him. I want to smother you in righteous lust and feathers (I hope you're not allergic).

You know I support you and this relationship, but I also worry. I wish that in the end you weren't going to have to be the one who does what's best for everyone else.

Oh, and be careful with that knife.

 

I shed tears after reading this post. I feel the pain... beautiful pain.

Sending strength your way.

 

Ropes that bind.
Knifes that cut...

do they bring freedom or only pain...

The journey brings us only to a point.
A destination... May not be where we meant to be...
My love...