Okay, here goes. People, myself included have no clue about how a person really feels. How they feel deep down low. On the inside. In their insides. In their soul.
What love leftover feels like as it sits and simmers and lays. Flat. In your belly. In your stomach. In your heart.
People will never really get it. It. That thing that gets you up late at night with sweats that are undetermined. Impossible to explain. Can’t be taken away. Terrors that leave you confused. As you realize even the person who you share that love with may never know.
Not in life. Maybe in death. If lucky, finally in death it will be picture perfect and finally understood. My love for you feels like that. Confused, confusing. Real, really. True and just for you.
Originally posted by Elly: 9November2009 on turtlegirl1976.wordpress.com
Okay, so the question arises…how do I expect to be treated? my answer, response, free of trepidation or degradation, five syllables. simple.
I wish to be thought of as a person who is able to give and get pleasure. A treat of sorts: as in, to provide somebody with something pleasurable: to give somebody or yourself something enjoyable: worthy of being thought of and delt with in a particular way…different (a treat).
But. And this is the hard part. At times. Sometimes…In a particular way. DESERVINGLY. I aim, I aspire to be more than the rest, better than the best, an improvement. A woman worthy of merit. Worthy of praise, a woman, ”worth considering”…having worth or merit or value; being honorable or admirable; “a worthy fella”