Something my therapist and I have been back and forth with since the beginning is my refusal to admit to needing to need for connection. Sure I have some real close friends that I have a real bond with, but she insists I need something more.
Because of my history, sex and relationships have always been separate from one another, and that has got me into a LOT of trouble. The kind that exacerbates an existing PTSD condition. The trauma work I’ve been doing is apparently working, since the last time I was intimate with someone who was just a booty call left me empty and feeling stuff I didn’t like but didn’t recognize. She says that someting in me wants more of a connection but my mind has to catch up. I wrote this poem while trying to sort this crap out. (Yes, emotional stuff is crap as far as I’m concerned).The last line betrayed me. I almost omitted it when sharing it with my therapist, but I decided if I’m asking for help in fixing my brain, I better be 100% honest with her. And now, I’m sharing it here.
The night it is thick
My intentions are pure
I only want
To make love to you
There is no tomorrow
Only the here and now
I only want
To make love to you
No games to be played
No he said she said
I only want
To make love to you
No heartbreak heartache
No broken promises false protestations
I only want
To make love to you
A lonely life to live
Descent Rising 