Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.

What I hope never to have to say…

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aerophones circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

-Funeral Blues
W. H. Auden

One of my favorite poems that makes me cry almost every time I hear it. And for those of you wondering where you’ve heard it before, John Hannah breaks you down to tears when he recites it in Four Weddings and a Funeral.  I always just have to read it in my head because reading aloud is too sad.

This poem, ironically, is what I looked for my entire life.  Finding someone that would bring this poem out of me if they died. Not that I want them to die, I just want that feeling. That low pit in your chest when you realize what you would do if the person you’re looking at ever went out of your life. Having that feeling is what gets you through the fights and the frustration. And as much I constantly have issues with myself, he’s always there. Every fight seems pointless when I look at him and think of this poem. It’s strange that that makes me feel so good. So safe and confident that everything is going to be fine. And, as much as I feel this way, I hope I never lose him and I never have to read this poem aloud.

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