thinking [ m ] thursday

I want the pain that comes after the no, after the stop, after the protests.
I want the pain that transcends the physical and becomes this far away thing that feels better and better the more savage it becomes.
I want the pain that leaves reminders – stripes, bruises, scratches.
I want the pain that takes me out of my head.
I want the kind of pain that feeds my love and recharges my soul.

The thing is, though, when I invite pain in I do so reluctantly, sparingly, greedily.
It scares me.
More accurately, I scare me.
After all this time, all these years, all my life, I should have stomped the hangups.
I should be able to embrace every last thing and stand tall and proud in my desires.
Instead, I am scared.
I worry that something I like, became something I want, became something I need.
Like an addict, will I always want more, one step further, a little harder, a little longer, a little more?
Will it ever be enough?
Will I ever be enough?
And so it is that I try to shut it down before I cross the line. As much as I desire the line to be erased, I fight hard as hell to stop it before we get there.
I want to give over to Sir and what I am too insecure to give, I want Him to take.
And in the taking, I want His soul recharged.
I want my tears to free Him as they free me.

I worry about Him, too.
Sometimes I think Sir thinks I am a delicate creature.
Or that He is too kind.
I worry that His confidence in me is less than stellar.
Maybe He thinks I won’t safeword.
Maybe He thinks I won’t know the subtle change between hurt and harm.
Maybe He worries about His own hangups and projects them onto me.

I can hear it know, the chorus chanting “communication is the answer”.
I know that.
We communicate.
We communicate to no end.
We talk, we work, we adjust.
It has been a rough few years.
Family things, work things, setback upon setback.
Some things remain constant.
Love. Marriage. Trust. D/s.
But the play part of D/s has changed and shifted – some lovely changes and some that I deeply grieve..
It is life. Nothing is static. Everything constantly changes.

I am ready for more.
I am ready to get this dialed in.
I am ready to sink back into what I am.
I am ready to drown in Him.
I am ready to let it all go, again.
I am ready to hurt.

~shygirl

His Impact

Beginning
Harsh, jolting
Protesting, begging
Strong arm holding
Push, struggling

Middle
Rhythmic, settling
Crying, cleansing
Deep words praising
Lifting, coming

End
Intense, testing
Melting, enduring
Hard lashes breaking
Floating, exchanging

After
Sliding, sinking
Worshipping, thanking
Two souls colliding
Completing, loving

*******
This was another prompt from Sir, for His private viewing. However, the things I’m trying to write lately aren’t very well-rounded (or coherent!), so I requested permission to post this.

Impact has become one of my favorite things and the harder, the more it hurts, the better. Sometimes that frightens me a little. Deep down, I know it isn’t “wrong”, but at times I feel like I am, and that can manifest as a struggle – against the blows, against Sir… especially when the impact alone brings me to climax. This poem reflects the stages.

Happy Tuesday!
~shygirl

what became

Seven became five
Became three
Two
One

Sporadic

Two became three
Became four
Five
Six

Endless

Like became lust
Became infatuation
Passion
Love

Overwhelming

Thoughts became uncertain
Became confusing
Resignation
Lost

Temporary

Chaos became standard
Became everything
Normal
Truth

Unyielding

Pain became pleasure
Became release
Safety
Freedom

Solace

Days became months
Became years
Found
Life

Love eternal

~shygirl