Mimi-Mona: a page and a poem from the personal journal of Mimi-Mona

a page and a poem from the personal journal of Mimi-Mona

Rarely is anything personal shared by Mimi-Mona, so this rarity offers some insight to the readers of works by Mimi and Mona

Enjoy

i ask myself, will this be too serious after his remark not to get all serious? i don't know if it is, but i keep saying—to myself—this is the first and only man with whom i can be totally honest in all respects. 

but, now, i'm not sure i can. i remember your saying, don't ask questions or something very close. i don't know how not to be sincere and not to ask questions or be serious...i can joke and play, but not 100% of the time.

when i stroll the park across from me or sit and think about what i want to write, i think of those things and i think i would like to be the kind of woman who doesn't give a damn about you. go ahead, laugh...i love to hear you laugh, although i can't very well electronically...i have to grab that memory whenever i say something i think you might laugh at or chuckle about.

i love talking to you and writing to you and i keep looking for written responses...so i rant in my RANT JOURNAL and then i draw wicked picture doodles...like i do when i'm writing poetry...they help me think and they calm my thoughts.

sometimes i feel like a page ripped out of a periodical that's cut into little disposable pieces (oooo, that's good, i might use that in a book or a poem...maybe not). mostly you swell with enthusiasm and it arouses me to the symphony of life...slow in the beginning, swelling quickly to the fullness of the beat...my blood rushes like that... when we talk, when you respond to me.

hearing nothing feels like you put on the brakes and i'm still traveling down that road enthusiastic about life and you...i never feel the brakes...until i realize you're missing; and i have to slow and look for you, for any part of you, for anything from you, anything attached to anything from me —this is a different kind of bondage and it makes me dizzy.

these are not short sentences... these are expressions, the way i think, everything looped and connected but only cut off when i make a turn.

short sentence:

i'm starved for you.

©THE STRANGLE AND THE STRUGGLE

Mimi Wolske, November 2010

All Rights Reserved

Dare I write to you of

My longing to see you

To show you how much I

Need to see you again

To kiss your smiling face

And feel you in my arms

Is it too soon to say

My body is going crazy

wanting you since I left

You there hours ago

So I could catch my plane

Was it sadness in your eyes

I don't know how I will

Be able to tolerate

Waiting the months to be

Together wondering

If your body craves mine

Yes, mine cries out for yours

The kisses—the wetness

All melting together

The embraces so tight

That it hurts yet soothed by

Knowing desires of the

Strangle and the struggle

The mad passion, rumpled

sheets, dueling from sunup

To sundown to sunup

Days on end now tearful

longings for you you you

Dammit! Won't the phone ring