A Bed Of Roses

There will I make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle.

A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my Love.

–The Passionate Shepherd to his love–Marlowe–

I made the promise and I would keep it given the chance. You would have those roses to sleep upon, if you so chose. Wouldn’t bother me a bit, all that floral stuff is a bit feminine for my taste but it doesn’t affect my masculinity one way or another.

Of course I might protest a bit and suggest we find sheets that were filled with pictures of power tools or something like that. Wonder if Home Depot sells a 500 thread count with their Makita drills.

You might wonder what this is all about and ask if I am just trying to get your attention and I would say that I am not trying to get it because I have got it.

Yeah, I have got it. Never had a problem getting  it and I wager I have never had much trouble holding it.

That line goes both directions.

When you focus so that you can forget remember that I can do the same and I have.

I can reach inside and find the hard edged bastard who doesn’t want to share the softness. He floats much closer to the surface these days than he once did.  Not unusual to find him running the show and I am ok with that.

But I don’t need for him to have that kind of power. He can go away. He can go on vacation.

Oh wait, saying this kind of stuff makes me into..what is the word?

Oh yeah, “mental.”

“Mental” is the word as if I care or believe it.

We are all “mental.”

We are all “whole” and we are all “broken” and everything in between.

I could make you that bed of roses.

I could kiss you so hard your knees would buckle and your mind would go blank.

I rocked your world and I can do it again and again and again.

This you know is not bravado.

You loved it.

You lived it.

You wanted it.

I gave it freely and would do so again.

We could fight about these things.

We could pretend that what was once can be no more.

We can ignore the bells that ring.

We can pretend to go our separate ways and ignore what lies in front of us.

We did it and we can do it again.

But the question is what does we did it and we can do it again mean.

What is the reference point, past, present or future.

A bed of roses, a moment in time and a memory unyielding.

Two people who chose a path.

A future unwritten and a past unforgotten.

Opportunity unseen, unexpected and open.

What is, what was and what could be.

The words flow freely and the ideas run rampant.

Open hands outstretched reaching for an open heart.

I know things and so do you.

We knew and we know.

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