I have been doing the same thing for the past 3 years, cleansing myself. There is no way to move on if you don`t. That ball and chain, that shadow of the past, the material reminders, all had to go, so that I would be able to be myself again and be able to give all of myself to another woman. I learned all about what rebound love is, and for having changed my mind about it, I am a much better man and have the respect for myself that I have to have.

Baby Girl , I felt in my heart that you were out there and that I wanted to be totally clean and dust free for when you landed in my arms , and for having a respect for myself , I would be able to give the respect to a woman that would be deserving of a man of that caliber. My darling……

Always and Forever,

Lover Sir Hugs A lot

Her heart is fading; she witnesses it detached from her body, her insignificant silhouette exposed. Love becomes the pool of blood, she lies within, and it embraces her feeble remains drenched within oppression. Is this her fate?

  She loves him with everything that she is, but yet her feelings illustrate evidence, she is naught in his eyes, for if she was, he wouldn’t indulge her with such hatefulness. Her fragile spirit is concealed in the corner of their disheartened home. He doesn’t lengthen his palm in love or tend to her tears, or comfort her for the damages he has done. He seems to be imminent, often in an emotional threatening expression. His tone destroys her, he picks on her, he judges, he lashes out, and he tells her women don’t cry, where is your back bone. She hungers for intimately, yet his tones produces, find a whore. Should such vile words of expression flow from his untamed lips? She had risked it all, to come to him.

 How does her broken heart, maintain loving him, when his compassion level is that of a wild animal? How does she not become “Jaded “?  Her eyes become swollen beyond recognition, she has nowhere to turn. She gave him her heart, he promised to take good care of it, but he has allowed conditional love to control his mood swings, for his past controls his thoughts. 

She can dream and ponder thoughts of the man she fell in love with, but reality is “Blemishes in a hollow tree “there feels like, nothing is left. He constantly tells her, “I’m a good man “how does he know what that even is? His role model, someone whom treated him badly, picked on him, destroyed him at times, leaving him broken and bruised. But yet, her ears lend to the whispers, he also, was a good man.

Life is too short to live in pain, to feel the greatest broken heart that another human being can afflict on someone whom they say they love with all of their heart. Now she knows why, her heart was better left untouched.

She is exhausted; her tears emerge together within Gods streams, destination the endless sea. Is it too late to pick up the pieces, does she remember what her knees are for, or should she travel that lonely road again?

© Cashmereheart ~ Dani Thornton Stock

It captivates our hearts and breaks our spirit. Burning flames

that ignite my passion is also the warmth ~ that softens my soul,

leaving behind nothing but ashes.

As I sift through the cinders of my heart, my hands become

tarnished…

Everything that I touch is affected. Is this truly the path I wish

to journey again?

Do the embers that burn bright in my heart frighten me? Is this

lingering incandescent glow, a frequent souvenir, of all that has

come to pass?

If I place my heart in a cocoon, do I free myself up to love again?

Thoughts that permeate the lining of my heart, are they strong

enough to extinguish all internal flames, before they consume me?

Are you the match that will destroy me, or the brook that will

quench my thirst and diminish all of my flames?

The scares in my heart are too deep to be seen, perforations

that toil in an uninhabited land, but held in your hand, will leave

an everlasting impressions, branded beyond understanding.

My external scares run rampant on my soul. So, I anticipate the love,

that will preserve my flesh and be the mist that infiltrates my passion.

Cashmereheart

Here’s an excerpt:

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foundation of innocent lips.

Take pleasure in, I have something to bestow you, a portion of

my heart, which you have longed for…

The afterthought remains overt; two hearts collide through

blamelessness of childhood magnificence.

Drizzling, Pink Sapphire kisses ~ showering from affectionate

colored skies, absorb within my flesh, like sweet-scented perfume

which envelopes the perimeter of thy heart.

Let fall our garments, shield our bodies by means of truth ~

truss our love, favorably on a magic carpet ride.

Destination, established dreams within mirror images, of two

souls enticing friction, sweet brow drippings designate a formula,

branded sweltering passion.

Lying amongst alabaster extremity, within unblemished

shallow meadows, my heart pulsates with the rhythm of your

smile.

For the hours of darkness are young, a rare find of childish

treasures, consummated after decades of searching, only to

detour back in time, en route for childhood magnificence.

Dani Thornton~Stock

Always ~ kiss me good night, as we lie sandwiched between

secrets in lace. Keep your arms near, to my velvety skin that

inhabits at the essence of your being; enmesh your limbs around

my soul.

Take your finger ~ emboss the delicate scent which flows

straight from my heart.

Love me; captivate my spirit with the passion, in which I am

caught up in a downpour, commencing from your arteries, like

vintage wine, beyond the cost that a heart can meet the expense

of…

Softly whisper my name, as you indulge in my affection, which

brings forth an enticing emotion to ravish this naked body.

Encumber your soul with the knowledge of sensual fantasies,

in which impairs your vision to a love; you thought never existed,

merely hiding in the shadows of embarrassment, within a

passionate heart.

©Dani Thornton~Stock

He continues to drill her, his words, a proven point to harm her heart. Their sofa turns into an witness stand, as he rephrased the question over and over.  Her answer doesn’t  be of same mind,  so he just becomes more relentless. His voice elevates as the response isn’t clear and concise enough for him.

Her fragile heart cries, her voice tries to answer through her unspoken tears, the way her mind thinks. But his vile words of expression confuse her thoughts.  His intimidation, the hurtfulness from his lips, “the double-edged sword of love “rears its ugly self once more.

It’s 4am and it’s as cold as if an Arctic wind, blankets her body, as he slumbers in the same bed, hotter than hell. She tosses and turns in the attic of her confusion.

Why does he have to be so harsh, why does he think she has to answer a simple question, to his way of thinking. If not, it doesn’t stop until he reduces her to a pile of ruins! He strips her bare, it’s a naked coldness for her emotions. His tone hitting hard and all for what?

Love doesn’t have to be so wounding and merciless at times, does it? Is verbal abuse just as injurious, or does it devastate  more? Do words really hit harder than a fist? She’s not a coarse character, she is a girly girl, and breathes for love,  wears her heart on her sleeve, and they ( him) become one of the most precious to her heart. She would never hurt, lie, mislead or upset him.

As, she closes her eyes and wraps her heart up to protect it, thoughts will linger until first light. She leaves you with this, she loves with the deepest of love for him and hurts with the deepest of pain. Big or small, her wounds, still seem to bleed the same.

It reminds her of a song. Remind me, of all the things you use to do, that made me fall in love with you, Remind Me!

 Cashmereheart