An Open Letter to Indifference

It took me a good length of time to warm up to your hands and be open to your kiss. I never imagined the day. That one time when we took time off from seeing one another – a month and a half – I had far-reaching sentiments wrapped in a box with ribbons that glowed of reasonable expectations and hopes. I loved you.

And on that altered afternoon when I came to visit, I went with every intention to slowly pull away the gift wrap that was you – emotionally speaking. I fancied to display how much I missed you and your darling face and your scent I consider home. I looked forward to quality time and a world of welcoming love same as usual. And perhaps it was my mistake – expecting you to always be on the identical page as mine? We were disconnected.

And my eyes were wide open to your loud actions and your words failed me because they were of a sexual nature and your hands no longer defaulted to being warm. They were indifferent now. And with an energy of a wolf, you came onto me and unwrapped my clothes with hungry claws leaving me bared for a moment just enough to capture the view of the voluptuous latina you glared as feast.

You walked me to your white door and pinned me against it with heavy aggression and kissed me with the same force with a tiny dollop of love inside your breath. And you groped every part of my meat and ate from it as if you were in a state of panic, of pure desperation, of a teenaged boy whose hormones got the best of him – just like a wolf taking over its prey.

And boy, I wish I left. I wish I could take my heart out my chest and stomp it onto the ground until there wasn’t a beat left – how it hurt like the day I was five years old and my mother first broke my heart with parental neglect. Because between loving you and the three hour trip it took to travel made even my thoughts feel small until they disappeared like smoke, like white lies, like happily ever afters.

And in this instance, you didn’t understand – how my sensible feelings have changed and how they buried themselves in deep despair and how anger created a shift in perspective; how these sentiments were relentless and at the same token – unforgiving. You didn’t realize the crime being committed; the way I was dramatically falling out of love with you; how this time when you cupped my face, kissed me deep and served me pleasure in the bedroom I was gone. I checked out emotionally and felt like freedom contained in the wind.

It was easy to become the watcher and observe from the outside in how you made me feel – like a woman selling herself off Hunts Point Avenue, like friends with lewd benefits. There was a dangerous courage in your behavior because of all the history that came before and will continue after us. I’m in disbelief and I can never feel the same way about us again. However, this has been a long winded way of saying: I’m not a maximus call.

-Pennington

Mutuality

The night was full of curiosity and mutuality and winds and whispers that soothed exact.  Daylight blared through the tasteless windows with all its promising newness; sharpening beauty in a welcoming space of two bodies interlacing as one glorious flame.  Lying in bed, there was an earnest sense of giving and receiving sensuality, in addition to an urge of freedom between the pair.  There was diversity in both worlds – yet beneath the façade there joined parallel natures which compelled the two to pierce the moment at hand as one.

Without formed and repetitive guarded guises, she came to him baring a part of her soul, free as a bird as did he.  During when words became spells and words encircled the situation like conjuring smoke in a séance, she stroked his luxurious charcoal hair over and over again until his brain registered what was occurring – instantaneous magic!  He penetrated her eyes with all the fire in his core and resembling a potent magnet pulled her into an earth-shattering kiss.  The energy and explosion melted their suckling lips and delicate tongues.  Every open mouth kiss was pain released, joy embraced and passion undiscovered.

-Pennington

Immorality

”Even the right is wrong.” – Coldplay

I’ve always been the type of person who believes in doing right.  I’ve always considered seeking out justice and being the fairness in somebody else’s life.  I’ve always been the type to defend others from bullies.  I’ve always done my best (and many times continue) to do the moral thing first.  Yet over the course of years sometimes being right isn’t always the key and sometimes being fair gets no one anywhere and sometimes life is the big bully and you can’t rescue everyone from it.

Than, with maturity, you start to question, if there’s such a thing as morality.  If it’s all just insubstantial words spoken or a running character to maintain, something meant to structuralized but its actually out of order because it was placed here centuries ago, so what do you really know?  There isn’t anything new under the sun and you start to break down choices, wonder about freewill, question karma and you start to roll with punches and what if’s and dig into the heart of half truths and it starts to decline into a big pile of shit.  What do you know?

I always believed in respecting people’s marriages.  If I knew the guy was married I wouldn’t converse or look his way ever again.  I’d remained proper to myself and my principles and even when the guy couldn’t I would do it for him.  I’d respect his woman without knowing her and I wouldn’t dare think, fantasize or dream to cross the line.  It became a blank page, a thought to never entertain.

At some point I remember growing bolder and leaving my strictness moral code behind.  I’d flirt with a married man who at the time was one of my instructors in trade school for Automotive Body & Repair.  I recalled wanting to get extra credit and doing whatever I could to achieve it.  So one day I decided at a whim to brush my breasts on his forearm right on his podium as class was being dismissed.  It was there when I received my extra credit.  I knew men were stupidly head over heels when it came to woman’s sexuality and I took full advantage knowing he was of very mature age.

I knew to an extent I was wrong.  I never once thought I was for the most part entirely leading him on even when we went out to sit down and eat once.  Than one day he invited me to the teacher’s lounge and openly kissed me without warning and without fear of getting caught.  On his end he kissed me passionately while I froze in his mouth right at the beginning.  See I felt bad for him so I kissed him back and made it under a minute.  I kissed him because I knew he desired it blindly.  I felt nothing for him and I felt nothing out of the kiss itself.  I broke away afterwards and never flirted with him or another married man again.  He later apologized.  I give that to him.

Ah, but over the course of the past two years I’ve been questioning this marriage life and who created it?  And if a piece of paper in fact means anything like uniting two people until death does them apart?  And if you know the marriage situation well – what makes it superior and what makes it sour?  There are numerous ways to rationalize this person’s greedy needs and the other person’s greedy wants especially if the marriage is arranged.  Being human, being married in itself is multifaceted.  And isn’t everything a dependent on something else?

Now on a side note but very much related I seen one film in my whole life (thus far) where they showed a marriage affair and how the people within benefited from it.  It’s unlike the many negative connotation affair subjects out in the world.  The film is called:  Waitress.  (And yes you should see it!)  I can’t for the life of me memorize whether if this film or my own mind has led me down to the road of immorality.  But somewhere along the line I’ve made an agreement with myself on how nothing is what it seems and I’m pretty much exhausted of perpetually playing the good role in life.

Over the course of weeks I’ve been speaking with a married man.  I’ve recently listened to him confess about being unhappy when I asked him bluntly.  We now speak a decent amount in person when he comes by to my job.  Other times we briefly text and mention how we hope the day treats one another nice.  He buys me coconut water almost every time he visits because like most people he doesn’t understand why I don’t drink anything except water.

Today however became another marking when I invited him to come with on my break and he casually revealed how he doesn’t remember the last time him and his wife have sat down in a restaurant to eat and simply chat.  She works long hours and when they catch up on seeing one another it tends to be only on the weekends.  He also made the mention on how he feels as if he’s emotionally cheating on her with me and how he’s conflicted about doing the right thing.  He’s torn between his heart and his mind. Part of him wants to seek the opportunity but than people would get hurt.

And here I am tempting him with every text, with every smile, with a casual hug, with a stroll around the neighborhood, with his buying me lunch, with every acceptance of his coconut water and with my saying yes I will go to dinner with you and to the movies and yes you can arrange a chauffeur, just say the time and place.  And it’s all because there’s this part of me that (besides my own little void at this moment in my life) I like and its wanting to make a(ny) person/people happy.

Life is too short to always feel the negative, the sadness, the suffering and life is too short to always wonder what if and skip on opportunities that may in fact have been there for a reason even if meant in some theoretical way to get a divorce.  No one knows anything because nothing is what it seems.  And even though I can’t make the entire world content, I can rescue a few despite the face of a short or long-term immorality.

Stay tuned? 😉

-Pennington

secret

you rubbed my shoulders.
i felt the earth in your hands.
it’s our secret.

you kissed my lips.
i felt red passion from your pelt.
it’s our secret.

you hugged me peacefully,
envelope me in sticky love.
it’s our secret.

you ate my body up,
like fruit cake.  until i stood late.
it’s our secret.

-Pennington©