The Incredible Mangoes

sleeping beauty...

to watch a woman while she sleeps, and fall into a degree of love that is only about that moment. this is truly something that i have not experienced enough. and i dont even think i want to.

i always close my eyes and turn my back to them and fall asleep too fast. but two women have really caught me, caught me deeply and stolen my sleep. there is only that one moment when you dont close your eyes and you dont turn your back and you cant fall asleep in the deepest hours of the night because they are so beautiful as they rest. there is such peace, in their quiet inhale and exhale. i have only loved two women this way. really only one (although ichat totally counts), who slept beside me for almost 3 years. i could never sleep before her, i always needed just a minute.

to look at the woman you love, when she doesnt know youre looking. and to love her so much.

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comfortable detachment...

i like her voice on the phone. i like the back and forth flow of our conversations. i like how her mind is in 7 hundred places at the same time, deconstructing everything, finding answers, asking questions, giving explanations very matter of factly all the time. she is one of the few that bring a genuine smile to my face. with her craziness, her power, her insecurity, and her intensity. she is adorable. i like that she allows me to ask her to calm down. and then, i like that she calms down. i like it when i frustrate her with my confusing manipulative crazyshit. she always knows the true meaning of my words. she makes me smile a lot. really. a lot. for no fucking reason. i am comfortable when we argue, or when we laugh, or when things are very serious. i cannot not smile when i am talking to her. she is a wonderful being, and i dont want her to drift away because of what happened.

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seduction and pursuit...

the world gets stoned and moves in slow motion when this woman is walking towards me. her eyes are almond glory gorgeous, her hair is dark silken sweet. her hips and her hands and her swing and her stance is so. bloody. graceful. she wears clothes that are loose but they cling, here and there. you know? they cling. she allows air, to breathe, around her. she is so gorgeous, and so unavailable to me. but she sits mockingly, just barely beyond my reach. and smiles. and winks. and blows kisses. this kind of love is destruction, it is madness.

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sisters that we dont have...

the emotion, that you will tear up the world, or anyone, or anything. without question. for one person. but then the insanity, when other emotions get involved. the miscommunication, and the hatred, and the madness that comes with distance and gaps and experience and age and the inability to really see or trust. yourself, or the other.

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silent wars with important women...

mothers are an incredible thing. they always know, they need no one to tell them anything. they just fucking already know. 16 or 17, living with parents in the homeland, and my first love came over a lot. my mother did many things of varying degrees in her attempts to discourage me from being gay. one of the things, rather passive aggressive, was when she would send tea up to my room. the facade of hospitality must never drop, no matter what.
two cups. one with sugar, one with salt. always.
this feeling, of being in between two women that you love madly. and not knowing how the fuck to keep the peace.
you dont want to fight with the Queen, taking the side of the Princess. and you dont want the Princess to think that the Queen hates her. so you sit there. and you switch the tea cups. calmly drinking the one with salt, every single time.

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more later, when a bit sober.

birdie