Another Dark, Wet Night

What I am having here is a long night of the soul.

Monday, February 4^th, 1 in the goddamn morning.

I have eaten all of the green, tinny tasting olives. Delicious.

I wake up now, in the middle of the night, discovering something

And I am not sure if that is at all good for me.

What I want to do is what I said:

I am here until my father no longer needs me anymore.

That’s what I want.

That is the true thing.

I said I’d do it and I meant it.

It cost me much more than could be imagined:

My Beloved. My best Self, in a way.

To catch you up on this deal with my own personal devil:

It’s beginning to go badly.

Da’s aging poorly with all the damage he has done

To himself in the myth of his glorious life.

He has been a remarkably good sport about it

It’s raining outside, a proper storm.

I bet it sounds great in the attic, right beneath the roof.

My roof. My gift of a roof.

What I want (which is all I know)

Is to take my lover up the ladder into my hidden space

(Where I have taken no one)

Put down something soft and lie there under the roof in the dark
listen to the rain, fuck like Immortals
and talk until it is all out of me.

All of it.

To the Reader who can inhabit the the FWB title:

That was not something you want to unload on a casual “FWB” relationship. For me, Friends are a title to be capitalized and loved.

These kind of friends, for me, the proper word would be that old sentimental word: lovers.

What is it you want?

Where are you going?

Will you allow me be to be valued and loved back?

And because this is me and you are you and this is what I do:

How can I love you best?

What are we doing here?

Can I help?
Would you let me be part of what you love in your life

because watching someone engage with themselves

and what they love is the best way for me to learn how it is to do the things with care and intent and how to be human.

What is it that you want? 
Who am I asking here?