Message-ID: <44135asstr$1062072604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
X-Original-Message-ID: <20030827031111.87351.qmail@web20713.mail.yahoo.com>
From: John Souvie <forjohnandsouvie@yahoo.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 26 Aug 2003 20:11:11 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: {ASSM} [wedding] I Need (by Susan Soulcatcher)
Date: Thu, 28 Aug 2003 08:10:04 -0400
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The following poem and story was gifted to me by Susan
Soulcatcher. With permission of the author, I give it also to
Souvie and John as part of their wedding gift.
Best of life ahead, to the both of you.
Alexis
---------------------------------
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<1st attachment, "I Need.txt" begin>
I Need
(c) Susan Soulcatcher
======
I need
The gentle touch
Of your fingers
Against my neck
Against my shoulders
Against my body.
===
His soft footsteps approach the bed. He settles by my side and I
turn my head to gaze into the depths of his soul. I savor what I
find there. "Hello, my love."
Eyebrows rise and a sad smile slowly forms as he reaches to
lightly brush my cheek. "Again?"
Tears flow and I roll my head so he cannot see the pain.
His fingers pause and then they move to the base of my neck. As
he gently slides them up and down he answers his own question.
"Again."
I know he has felt how tense I am and I know my body has spoken
to him more clearly than any words I could offer. Instead of
responding with words he doesn't need to hear, I shift my body
slightly and reach back to move my hair away from my neck. It is
as much of a plea for contact as I have ever been able to manage,
even with him.
He begins, as he always does, with light strokes along either
side of my neck. Somehow, in spite of all I *know* about massage,
his light touch teases my muscles into relaxation. I can feel my
once taut skin start to move along with his fingers and my once
tense muscles begin to follow his slow movements as well.
How does he manage to touch my soul so easily?
How does he reach past the barriers so many others forced me to
build? No man has ever been able to do so much--by doing so
little.
Without a word he senses I am ready for more. His fingers slowly
begin to lightly tease my shoulders into much needed relaxation.
The process repeats itself. Slowly, insistently, his light touch
nibbles at me and tells me to relax. 'I am here. For as long as
you need me, I am here for you--for you--alone.'
Not once has he betrayed that promise--once I dared to accept it.
His free hand gently reaches though my hair and tenderly wipes
the drying tears away. When he starts to remove it I grab
frantically and pin it against one cheek.
I need to feel his tenderness, his patience. 'Do not go. I cannot
ask--do not go.'
He understands and lets me savor his contact--again.
I can feel my body shift slightly as my shoulders relax. Without
letting go of his hand I shift so I am on my stomach. My back,
tense from remembered pain, lies readily available to his
fingers. It is, once again, an invitation I cannot speak aloud.
Without changing the rhythm of his gentle, light movements, he
allows his fingers to spread and drifts them slowly down either
side of my spine. I tense as he nears my buttocks and he stops.
He waits.
Calmly.
Patiently.
Without any indication of frustration...
He waits for the signal only he recognizes. Even I, no matter how
much I concentrate, cannot identify what he waits for... And his
fingers slowly work their way back to the base of my neck. This
time, as they move they dance in small circles that urge my skin
and the muscles it hides--to relax.
Again, without me ever being able to identify the exact moment,
he touches my soul and tells me 'I am a man. I care. Trust in me.
My touch does not lead to pain. Relearn what it means to
relax--with a man.'
When I open my eyes and search for the clock, hours have passed.
His touch is still gentle, still light. Still unhurried. It is as
if time has stopped and all he has ever done...
All he desires...
Is to help me...
With nothing more than his fingers...
And their gentle, insistent, soul-touching coaxing.
What he gives--I cannot openly ask for.
Somehow he knows this and he gives me, without price...
What I need.
Always.
<1st attachment end>
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