Dear Lover, Let Me Look at You

Dear Lover, Who is your favorite super hero? You and the way you want me to see you are two different people. Don't parade to me your cape, costume or armor like you do upon the public. Let me see under your mask, beneath your super powers, the real you that I hold so dear to my bossom. Let me look at you and love you for everything you are and ever will be. Let me intoxicate the man I love with an unpredictable, blood pumping, firework bursting kiss for reasons such as myself loving something about you that I would hate in anyone else. Protect me my love and make me feel secure and sheltered and let me recognize you when you're most vulnerable. Share with me your dreams, thoughts, memories, jokes, and conquer our differences. Let me hold you sometimes my love in the safety of my trust that you will not need to feel unguarded. Drink in my laugh and tickle my soul for you are the reason I exist. Love me as I love you. Indulge with me the time we're givin. Let me look at you whenever I like as long as I like, with no questioning in my motive but in understanding that I'm only admiring my love for you. Let me touch you in the same spot everyday knowing that if were to stop a sudden than you'd miss it dearly. Let me look at you and love the real you that no one will ever know the way I do. Your journey to accomplish something important to you in life will never be held back or weighed down by me. I will lift and help you reach if you just allow me to be part of it. ''When ever, Where ever,'' will always be our promise. Just let me look at you. Buenos Noches you lil chicken stalkers. Till I feed you my dears another night.

I Remember When You Broke My Soul

Torn up with anguish that you're leaving back home and my heart can't stand the distance increasing between our shared love and shared bodies. I recall upon the moment we first met.you came to pick me up for the first time on our first blind date in your blue Chevy extended cab.the sound of the doorbell sent chills through my bones and I leave my stomach at the top of the stairs racing to the door raising my heart beats. You first see me in my little flowy, light brown, braided strap sun dress and my knee high rubber muddin boots. Not common for a first date, but at the time it was my preference. You standing before me appeared strong, dominant, confident but so inviting and warm. That was the moment we became ''we.'' Time continues and we share memories, vacations, teaching me how to drive a stick shift, birthdays, holidays, families, friends, we shared each other with each other. Then your job was done and contract completed and you were shipped home after our future plans were verbally set in stone. Thanksgiving we planned for myself to drive to your home you lived before you made a new home with me. I'm denied leave, then put on CQ and call you to cancel my trip. At the end of my 24 hour CQ shift I'm released the rest of the holiday, so I raced to the home we shared during our time in the easiest relationship. Being up 24 consecutive hours I drove to you, 12 hours ands 54 minutes all the time calling you for my arrival. No response. I continue my trip, tiring as each minutes expires. I remember back upon the first time you had told me loved me and in a day dream I zone out. We both had surprises for one another coincidentally at the same time. As we presented them to one another we both realized how much we loved one another. The item we bought were the same on in different versions. A male style and a style he'd bought for me, the woman's version. I arrive at your home too far from the warmth of my bed. It appears as no one is home as the snow began to fall again after only taking a 15 minute break. In a sudden, my lungs freeze as if the snow is being inhaled directly to my inner organs. My heart slows, vision blurs, my mouth dries to the touch, silence struck. The silence broke as the heart barely beating by a frozen stiffness cracks resulting into the loudest heart break on my inside. All is still silent on the outside of my body. I dare let you see the salt stinging wetness gather in my eyes as I glare at you and your secret lover perched on the bed built strong for passionate love making with me. Spun up and cozy in the winter month blankets that we shared in our home. The wrong woman's hair spread lazily on the soft pillow meant for my head to lay upon. No words uttered from my puckered lips holding back the agonizing pain of a rusty blade being twisted sideways while stuck into chest. 37 hours now of no sleep and now it's the last thing my body will allow itself to do. I will not recall on time spent with you after my regrettable return after your secret lover had departed, for the memories of it are still so frightening and painful. These days I have forgiven for those times you hurt me so, but yonder days I'll never forget the time you broke my soul. Buenos Noches my lil chickens, till I feed you another night.

Debuts are Overrated

For anyone unaware of who I am, as much as many claim they do, let me introduce myself. I'm Stormy Gayle Henry. I tell everyone my first name is StormyGayle because that's the way it's pronounced, not the way it's spelt. Most call me Stormy although I prefer StormyGayle. I'll always look young but be old in the heart. My forever wish is world peace. My favorite scent is a worldly man. All you'd ever need to know is ''I like you'' and everyone and everyone. I couldn't love myself more than I already do. I have no regrets on anything I've every been lucky enough to experience. I care for too many, too much. Trusting too much is impossible. Sometimes I feel like a free spirit and it's exhilarating. I already love everything and everyone, because we all should. My sense of intuition surprises me at times. ''Happy Birthday'' is what I would say to everyone on every birthday if I had one wish and world peace were not an option. I tend to have the occasional ''grammatical errors'' but I still think of myself as highly educated. If I could find it possible I would see that everyone were comfortable for generations upon generations. Being family to me is not the same as being blood. Helping others when they don't want to help themselves embarrasses me. I love life but I still wake up grumpy. If I never heard a train again it would be too soon. I want to give. In introducing myself, I realize that the only thing I truly find impossible is trying to introduce myself. First impressions mean so much and sometimes everything. So how can I sum myself up a matter of 15 seconds? Never could I sit down with every individual I'll ever meet and tell them my life story. But someday I may try. Buenos noches my lil chicken stalkers, till I feed you another time.

With Love

In the fathermost ends of  my nerves,  I felt the most electrifying current of heat, sparks and passions. Churning until, with no signs of forthcoming, it pulses through my veins like a runaway freight train. Ecstasy rivettes throughout my temple of misted floral skin and clouds the brain that floats atop the stormy sea of endorphins. Bliss is the description of ecstasy or seventh heaven. Love is the inception of ecstasy which cannot be faked but merely manipulated. Honest women make old maids, but I'd rather be a lonely old maid than subsided with contentment. My love will never be vapid or mundane. I would perish if my love were to be represented by the atrocious descriptions of anything less than freehanded. Whoever is to experience my love will be sure to weep in confusion. My lover will know not I had been possible. If I were not your moon, your gravity, your reason, than I am nothing more than the jester for your royal occassion. Give me someone to overwhelm in my love and to feed with my essence and I will give them the most cherished memories, the most tender of kisses and the sweetest laughs. For everytime I'd write, rather it be a shopping list, reminder, or a simple signature, it will always be a love letter to you. You would always be on my mind and I'd always think of you with Love.

Buenos Niches my little chickens, till I feed you another day.

Dead Ends or Unfinished Creations

In my present moment I walk down a hallway. A hallway that has no visual end. High, strong, brick walls stand parallel to one another as they shepherd me to follow the direction the sidewalk governs. In doing so the walls deepen and feel as if they are grappling. Panic. If I can't find a way out soon then this hallway will soon be nothing more than a solitary wall preserving the very life of me for no one to find. I become hysterical as I rush, fighting the elapsing time to what I feel may be the end of all hope. Doors I find are tall and made of steel with an iron lock seal. As I approach each one I lose belief that I'll see another day. The walls of rustic brick move closer in to its twin, as if yearning to become part of one another. Alarmed, I run. I just want to get as far from the entrapment that I dread will be my dead end. All is dark. I feel the raw, coarse brick scraping the outside of my shoulders. I cannot run anymore. I incline my back perpendicular to one wall, awaiting the other to kiss my face with its rough and unyielding torture of macerating death. Just as I feel the frigid temperature pulsating off the rocky exterior of each significant brick, I faint.

Good night my little chickens, till I feed you another day.

An Established Looking Glass

Sometimes I think of myself as a dusty mirror. A sooty reflector begging for the fingers of determination to draw circles and shapes upon the slighty unshorn curves of my exterior. Hoping one frigid point of day the breath of an opportunist will send heated fog straight through me in order of tracing my heart. Waiting to be looked IN with enduring eyes even though I'm not being looked AT. I want to be displayed as a token compared to an expediency. Marveled in lieu of pined. When pondering on the copies we cast in a reflection, we are indeed getting back what we're giving. In fact I am perpetually returning everything I am requirring. As a time capsule fails to be built, I wait. Such commodities do not occur in every duration of existence. I'll complete my trails one step a time in full acknowledgement of the next sequence of foot steps. As this moment's time elapses I just want to accept my signifigance.

Buenos Noches my lil Chicken stalkers,
Till I feed you again.

How Fast is Your Light?

I hate being alone. I'm a people person. I'm a vivacious individual whom lives on interacting with the public. I'm far from saying that I don't appreciate my "me" time every so often. Then again, that's exactly what I'm saying. I'm lethargic to how I interpret my own thoughts periodically. When I am alone I get so deep into my own head about everything. IT flashes through my brain like the speed of light. Wow, that's really fast considering the speed of light is 186282 miles per second. In such a short time I think of my family, friends, materialistic objects, where my life is, where I'm going in life, why am I single, why don't I have any children or a loving husband yet, is my favorite color still green, why did I pick this outfit today, I wonder who is thinking of me, should I cut my hair, should I dye my hair, I should workout more, I should eat healthier, what am I going to do tomorrow, how am I going to explain any subject of any current situation to any individual that may be associated with it, what do my dogs think, are my dogs smart enough to compose an intellectual thought, what does PawPaw see when he looks at me, why does that chick over there have nicer tits than I, I wonder if that man over there thinks I'm attractive, do men like smart girls, in turn when I try to sound smart do I sound like an idiot because I get choked up, what if my life had been this way or that way, what if I were an only child, should I paint my nails pink or french or should I just leave them the way they are, what do I want to do for the rest of my life, if I died tomorrow who would go to my funeral, do I make an impact, who influences me, who do I look up to, who looks up to me, I need to tan, I wish my feet were bigger it's so hard to find shoes my size, what is Heaven like, is there a Heaven, can my dead family and friends see me right now, can they see me in the shower, can they see me during sex, I hope my grandmother doesn't see me during sex, why are people so mean to one another, is world peace never going to happen, why do I think I could hold the key to world peace, what is world peace, who am I talking to, should I blog tonight, does anyone read my blog, does anyone really care, why am I alone right now...etc etc etc....
STOP!!!!!

One moment. One moment to not have a single thought in my mind. One minute to have a remote to my life where I can press pause and everything STOP at a standstill and all is quiet. How pure of a moment I could only imagine would it be to not have a single care, worry, thought, memory, situation, question, decision, any single idea in our brain. WAIT. Does that mean you would be dead? Is the moment you take your last breath not insisting that that one time you held your breath so long that you thought your head was going to burst and right before you think it will you have that break you need?

Sudden relief, from the fact that I feel ok after questioning the above as if as long as I thought I've had one a time before I'll be alright. Or maybe I feel ok from questioning the above because I suppose when I feel the need for my break I'll know what to do. Am I doing it again?...thinking of a million things at once at such a speed you can see it in detail as well? I don't go to the gym often, yet I keep a nice build and I finally realized why. Not because my mother or father have good genes. Nor is it for the fact that I eat healthy, because if I don't eat a friggin burger at least once a day I'm freakin out. It's because my mind is racing through so many things at such a speed that it burns calories. I eat a lot of calories too at that. I feel as though I'm realizing more things when I can read back on it. In all aspects of life we can correct making the same mistakes over and over again but learning from it the first time. Take for example, and it's probably in your youth, at one point you DID reach for that stove just to see if Mom was lying or not about how hot it is. I'd say 9 times out of 10 it was because she was cooking on it so your attention was more focused on it, so naturally you burn the sheebies out of your hand. I bet that was the first time you touched a stove top and I also bet that you learned that SOB was hot and didn't do it again.

Confession. The last sentence I wrote, above this about the stove top, took me nearly 8 minutes to complete. Why? Because I had so much other things running in my head so much they kept blinding me from what I was doing, sort of like trying to read a book and your little sister keeps turning the light on and off.

So how about I settle my self debate and just say ok and just go with the flow to whatever my mind may want to focus or be brought attention to.

Buenos Noches my Lil chicken stalkers. I'll feed you another night.  <3