By iristakeroot@juno.com
Date: 10 September 2000
welcome home, child
how is that i can be here lying down, wanting to feel someones hands on me, knowing that they want their hands to be there. but yet it doesn't come, and how is it this need in me won't quiet, and won't go away and be still. the rhetoric. the unanswerable questions of the mind. and how is it that when giving, that giving is never being a receiving, a give a give a give, and take a take a take. But mine is never the take. how my hands can reach out and touch him, how mine is the voice of soothing, when his soul needs calm. But where is the calm i need, when i need to hear a voice say that life is going to be okay that love is something coming to you. But he pushes my hands away unless somehow the tears are flowing, and there is some sort of pitiful demeanor to be had. I want those hands to want to reach out and touch me and say that there was a reason for that. That there was a need, some intimacy to be shared. I want to feel that he wants to look at me and say that his eyes are feasting, and feasting on the only thing that can satiate him for the moment. damn these tears that won't go away. why don't these tears ever stop. why this insane sense of loneliness???? why unless someone is meant to be there eventually who wants me as i am, and not the things i cannot give. I am not tactful, i am blunt. I am beautiful, but not tall and skinny. i am sweet and loving, and i can be a bitch with a hangover. so what if i don't look innocent, so what if i'm not 18 and with a sense of purity to me. Maybe i've made mistakes, and maybe i don't look like what everyones sense of beautiful is, but damn it, i can love with the best of them. and i've been hurt with them too. i've had my heart just torn out of me and run over by a semi rolling down hwy 81, torn in pieces like the roadkill. there how is that. good imagry? does my heart suddenly seem obliterated? and thats what happens every time my hands are pushed away and are told no..........i'm confused. your confusion makes me want to scream, makes me want to jump up and down and beat and kick at something, it makes me angry, it once made me sad. but now it fills me with a deep sense of what i'm missing for myself, a deep sense of running away, and hitting a road with a eternal summer and not driving back. Maybe one day i'll be the elusive girl in the corner bar writing, with the black rings under her eyes with lack of sleep. i sleep with you, yet you don't want to touch me, YOU DON'T WANT TO TOUCH ME. and i need to be touched, i need to be touched, because i have never truly been touched with a hand that loves me, and hand that needs me. I want someone to touch me and feel a need for me. i want to feel that in the fingertips in the imprint of that fingerprint i want that. i want to have your fingerprints indeliably marked on my skin, and a arrow pointing to the moment with a date stating, this is the day she was needed this is the day someone finally yearned for her and said, welcome home child.
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