Absolution.......A Roggy's MPC #34

It's bedtime.  Time to face my love...time to try to win amnesty for my rend-ed heart after another fight filled with jagged words, anger, and dread  

Music plays softly on the bedside radio.  Crisp sounds of my birthday gift, a brand new Bose, fill the room, which is flavored with the flicker of the marquee outside the window.   Something in the blinking shadows eggs on my need to say I'm sorry, for peace sake.  Jealousy cages me; it holds no edification here, not now, when I've listened to the wrong advice, once again, and now have to heed the intervention from my own head, and heart.  It's just that flashbacks, in haunting perfectibility, skated across my mental plane, indulging remembrances of my own escapades of  unchaste behavior.  I saw the signs, the environment, and the opportunity, and I assumed Karma was paying me a visit.   I was wrong, and once again...I'm to blame.  I sentence myself to punishment, but I admit to being shamelessly enslaved in his charms, not wanting anyone else in his arms but me.  Even when he was seldom home in the evenings, when we had more time for each other, he made it home later....and later ....and later.  His friends, working overtime, and cleaning that car seemed more important than me.

Here I lay in our domain...here...in our private empire, our cave of ravaging rapture where we reared  raunchy rouses, and too few memories I can recall.  He was all I needed...his love soaked through me like a phenomena.  I didn't know if I wanted to go....or come [and I so loved coming with him].  

Sinking back into my side of the bed, sighing, I prepared myself to eat crow.  

As always.....I'm prepared to let him be the mediator.  Pride...deactivate.  Mistrust...escape.  For between winning and losing arguments, and by me being humble, and submissive, and waiting...and in chase, he made me believe that I was the only one who could make him treat a lady like a lady, and not a slave.  The heart is free to love, and when one is married, there should be no reason to ferret out anything else to satisfy any intimate inclinations that might arise.   I should be enough...I should make myself enough.  I should not plan on literally having to chase forgiveness all around the room.  (deep sighing)

Something inside of me....is nervously afraid (not looking for another argument, to start with).  
Laying still.....wishing there was an end to this night.  Waiting..anticipating...impatiently praying for tomorrow morning to come.  

Then I feel his presence in the house, as I always do, when he comes home.  The refrigerator door closes.  A fidgety, conciliatory fire begins to burn deep down inside as the marquee flashes and I hear him moving about.  My heartbeats almost match the light, dark, light, dark, light....and darkness enveloping me.  Soon enough, I hear the shower turn off, more doors to the medicine cabinet shutting....a cough....steps.....stopping.....walking.....stopping......and then....walking down the hall.  Closer.  Closer......closer.  Turning the doorknob....opening the bedroom door, entering the room.  I almost faint with disquietude.  I began counting the number of steps it takes for him to get to the bed

1...2
3...4...5
6....7....8...9....
10
11...12...13
......
14

Fourteen steps later.... my heart is listening very attentively for any and every motion.  My body tensing up.  Easily embarrassed it is...at it's crying out for attention.  I crave absolution....needing for him to see past my jealous heart to my adoration....my submissiveness...my retention.....my voracity and zing in my zeal to feel him inside of me.....just as I feel imprisoned.....but a more welcome fate my heart hinges on.....









jakuper (10/20/11)