If Fear Wasn’t A Factor

If fear wasn’t a factor, I’d run to him. I’d love him—best I know how (that’s fear being a factor).

I’d bring him comfort and solace—if he’d take it (that’s fear speaking too).

Fear, you need to have several seats.

From my current point of view, I like him; his kindness wisdom quirkiness and humor.

Funny I never thought of returning to him—just thought us to be old flames with no embers smoldering.

Since his status change and he reached out to me, I’m seriously considering him.

Fear speaketh: What makes you think he wants you?

Fear, I asked you nicely to have several seats !

Well, as you can see, fear is a factor here. I need God’s guidance.

Long ago, I fearfully ran into someones space, not his arms, to rescue me from my torment. I put my own selfish desire first—to be comforted without giving comfort or love.

Got hitched.

Was miserable.

God wasn’t key; we were barely speaking.

I wanted what I wanted and it ended as a hot mess. Broken-hearted people scattered all over the lawn with rings, a name change, and papers.

Ten years out and I hope I’m wiser. I’ve learned the hard way that you can unwisely put yourself in the midst of something you can’t sustain. Or, you can seek wise counsel to live your dreams with fear not being a real factor at all.

I‘m choosing to be fearless this time by…

… seeking wise-counsel and walking in it.

… giving love as well as receiving it.

… being on speaking terms with God about his promises for me—yes and amen.

Fear, you are not a factor.

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Romanticizing Smoldering Embers

I can feel you in my loins—your smile and sexy voice peeling back my layers.
You’ve got me wide-open.

Our proximity is eons apart preventing satisfaction.

I need you to gratify my decades long of soul yearning. My itch desires relief. Can you do it, huh?

Honestly, until recently, neither of us knew smoldering embers for the other existed—intriguingly interesting.

Look at your sexy self, pushing all up on my psyche, whispering your feelings and crackling my synapses.

Oh, wow, what do we do with this latent itch we metaphorically need scratching?
I’m digging the depths out of you. You feel me?

When restraint weakens, will we telepathically unite satisfying our unresolved groove?

Will we welcome each other in out of the emotional thunderstorm to remedy this thing—this us?

Say what? I didn’t know it was like that.

Mind thrusting each other match-for-match as I come up to meet your truth-telling flow arching my mind’s back—taking all of you in.

That’s it. Lay it down. Put your word-spell on me—like the best you evah had.
I’m feeling your truth all of what’s inside you.

I’m digging your flow, maestro, anticipating you even more.

The tempo of our life’s concerto quickens—oh, the crescendo.

You have me right there like once upon a time when you were my refuge the place I’d go when I needed shelter from the outside world’s disharmony.

As I reflect upon what we once shared, I wonder if I’m over romanticizing what was or am I feeling your psychic energy flowing towards me letting me know that it was and is all real.

Nesi Writes

Writer Man

Art: Oliver Ray, Man Writing

What are you doing, thinking, being, freeing?

Like a see-saw or whirling twirling swirling but never unnerving

I do dig you like an ole school record

‘Cause, Baby, I love your ways

You are re-quieting enticing spicing like the House of Atredis, my Lord

You are worthy I’m glad you know that

Float on, soar, and carry on your Highness

Beauty is her name—so accommodating, ego stroking spirit of yours elating

I don’t know if I trust her, but, if you do, if that pleases you, go on through to do you ‘cause she is pursuing you though you already knew

We all need our Strokerz for they give us that flesh zinger that twinge and fix we need

I guess the rest of us have to sort through our own mess as we see your groupies serenade you, throw their word panties at you

It sickens me when some floozy tries to woo you with her honey dipped words rolling off her lips

The pretty ones make us wince because we don’t believe in our own beauty (have mercy) see our own worth our own value if we did we would not be jealous it’s true

Pure jealousy haunts me when I see you flirting with those Prancers and Posers because I can’t have you

Now, I see that I want to own you, control you, make you the property that I so loathe being for anyone else…

©2012 Nesi Writes