fairytales, Poetry, Red, religion, sexuality

What the wolf doesn’t realize.

The wolf knows a lot about you but he doesn’t really know you.
He knows how to trap and trick you
to have you falling for his charms over and over again.
But what the wolf doesn’t know is how to love you.
or to admit that he needs you as much as you need him
maybe More.
You both may know how to transform blood into knowledge
him, yours,
and you, the blood of all the women who came for him, before you.
like the bee that stings dies soon afterwards,
a Wolf needs the blood of his victims to survive.
but what he doesn’t know is that you know how to pull all your blood back inside you.
That no matter how many times you bleed, you always produce more.
– 0r – maybe he does – and this keeps him coming, Back, for more.
what he doesn’t realize is that He lives Off you
and he dies a little every time you walk away – le petit mort
then he wanders, searching for other victims but may not have the ecstasy of Your blood again.

its particular taste and texture

The wolf doesn’t know that you have grown secrets strengths inside you.
He is not your first Wolf.
You are not his first victim.
He doesn’t know that You know how to survive wolf’s
that, no matter how drunk you may be on his blood sucking ways
you know about being sober,
IT carries its own rewards.
You –  may forget this as well –
swept away by tides
But the Wolf doesn’t realize that one day, you will remember how to leave.
That you have done this before, and so can do it again.
You may go searching for other wolves, or become one yourself.
He thinks he’s taking your blood From you.
What he doesn’t realize is that he is teaching you about eternity,

that you have given it willingly.
that love grows you in secret stores of strength,
and is the only thing that truly grows as it is spent,
that you adore the ecstasy of depletion
that you have witnessed your own replenishment over – and over –  again.
and may it has left your heart bitter.
you still thinks it is an all amazing Wonder.
That bitterness has the grounding power to teach you about your own iron.
what the wolf doesn’t realize is how much mettle you have,
or that bitters are essential for optimal digestion.
Sweets are often like poison to the body and the soul.
that blood ferments into Whine and becomes liquid gold!
The wolf doesn’t realize he is teaching you how to hOWL.
That the sound of your sorrow will echo to the very depths of the earth
shaking the ground beneath you Both.
The wolf will not realize what he lost, –
but you will.
Even if it hits him,
the wolf will never get to experience the fullness of your beauty or the opening of your soul.
If all he ever practices is how to take he will never know the joy of receiving giving.
the ecstasy of surrender,
the blissfulness of obliteration,
or the affirming power of realizing ones own resilience.
That love is a gift that women have often given to each other
when all other sources have Run – dry.
the wolf may never learn what true love is
or experience the depths of your gravity
and so the avalanche of your heights.
that giving and receiving are equal on playing field
that one cannot take without giving and his greatest gifts,
are all the lessons you will learn about yourself.
The wolf doesn’t realize that you have secrets stores of beauty within you
and that one day when you are sick of the games and the lies and the dark ecstasy he knows how to generate.
You will secede pulling away each stone from within, you
that will fall as you empty yourself of your collective sins, leaving a trail of forgiveness behind you.
That your greatest suffering will be knowing His poverty for never having experienced the satisfactions of truly loving you.
Because you will see your beauty and your strength and your resilience glowing lustrously like a great beacon of alleluia within you.
The wolf doesn’t realize that he – the con artist – is carving you
so that one day you will pull out all of your true gifts like liquid gold and leave fires glowing in a wake of dust behind you.

the wolf doesn’t realize you have been smoking his smoke.

– the whole – fucking pack.

Copyright Adrienne Adams June 28th 2014

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