Snow and Hot Tubs

Okay, so it’s almost winter here in my part of Alaska. The snow is here, although barely enough to mention, but still. Today it’s actually pouring rain out my window, which I absolutely love. However, I am ready for full winter.

Winter, with its new set of clothing, crystals of white linking hands to cover the world, making it fresh and soft and so beautiful. Cleaning the air. Quieting my surroundings.

Life slows down. It’s time for slow, deep thoughts. Hot tea, wrapped in a soft blanket, sitting out on the porch or staring out the window. It’s actually getting to see the stars again (we don’t really get to see them in summer – too light). It’s watching the auroras dance before my eyes, seducing my imagination. It’s walks in the falling snow, wishing for someone to share it with, someone who loves walking in the snow, too.

It’s also outdoor hot-tubbing. There is nothing as wonderful as sitting in a hot tub while it’s snowing all around you. I mean, it’s glorious in the rain too, but the snow makes it a memorable journey of the senses.

It’s the hot water caressing your skin, swirling, skimming, gently massaging. Getting in all those places that are neglected so often. Then it’s the icy cold flakes falling on your naked skin, a prick of frozen bliss just before it melts. Perhaps leaving a goosebump behind in its wake.

What follows is what makes it the sensual joy you long for and what remains in your memory long after. Climbing out of your warm cocoon, you run out into the cold, drop down and roll in the snow. Melting it instantly with your hot skin, grabbing handfuls rubbing it briskly, your skin turns to ice so quickly, nipples hard, skin tightening, breath hitching, gasping. It’s almost orgasmic in its sinful overload. Rising again you run back and climb into the steaming water as quickly as possible. God, it’s heavenly, out of this world. Fire and ice in the form of the water element.

Best when done with another person. Especially if you’re both naked (as you should be in this situation) and you don’t mind massaging one another underwater.

Please tell me I’m not the only one who does this. I can’t be. Come on, who’s with me here? Show of hands??

tara caribou | ©2017

Unspoken Words

I did exactly what I set out not to do

I gave my heart to another

What started as a chance meeting

Turned into an easy conversation

Which became texts and more texts

Texts turned to phone calls

We had a meeting of minds

Kindred spirits

But when I looked back

I suddenly realized

I had fallen for you

Without knowing everything

Barely anything at all

I had your face memorized

When you messaged me

I knew how you’d write something out

Although maybe not the exact words

My heart was yours

Before I recognized the truth

Or maybe I did but I had denied it

This is crazy

It’s impossible

What have I done??

There’s no going back, is there?

Do I tell you what’s in my heart?

What would you say?

Would you run away?

Chuckle, “silly girl

A hundred typed and deleted messages

Seen only by me and my phone

Oh, what should I do?

Part of me hopes

You won’t answer another text

Disappear from my life

Another part hopes

You’ll see through to the real me

Take me as I am

Will you see past the dark I hide behind?

Am I worth it to you?

Suddenly I don’t know

What have I done?!

Oh, Heart, what have you done?

Far Across The Waves

She gave her heart to another
Only to find
Her love was not enough for him
To move beyond
His comfort and safety
She scarce could take it back again
And so lives her days in sorrow
Her eyes always longing
To find his seeking hers
From far across the waves


As I stand here
gazing out
at the bright moon’s full face,
I wonder if,
across the miles,
you’re standing naked
at your own window
watching it too.

It’s All You

Wake up, open my eyes
Think of you
Stretch, roll over
Think of you
Cup of coffee
Think of you
Cook a meal
Think of you
Fold the laundry
Think of you
Take a nap
Think of you
Go outside
Think of you
On a drive
Think of you
At the beach
Think of you
Stare into space
Think of you
Brush my hair
Think of you
Take off my clothes
Think of you
Lay down at night
Think of you
See your pillow
Think of you
Touch myself
Think of you
Phone rings…
Please be you


©️tara caribou – 2017

Night Reflections

As I lay in his arms and he quietly speaks sweet things to me – “you’re beautiful” – “you make me happy” – “my Love” – I wonder if he’s ever said those words to another. If perhaps there is a different woman out there who has been on the receiving end of his all-encompassing love and passion. Am I really so special to him? Or does he feel this big with every one that he loves? 

Why does he love me? I am ordinary. I’m not beautiful. I’m no smarter than others. I’m moody. I’m selfish. I get jealous. And yet, he does love me. He loves me deeply and truly. His energy, my energy. Together, we pass it back and forth, letting our combined energies build and crescendo. The lies and the darkness fall away until only truth remains. When we are together everything else fades away and I feel like a real person again.

It is during these moments, these precious hours, when the world actually seems at peace. When everything feels right, good and whole. At night. In his arms.

And then when those long nights and days arrive when I am alone and he’s not beside me, well, those are the times when the world seems a big, desolate, empty and scary place to be. Those are the hours when I lay there, depressed and sad, and darkness creeps in to overtake my mind.

I lay here remembering: his rough voice, his beautiful words, his soft skin, his virile scent, his rugged hands and strong arms, the cadence of his breathing. “I love you.” My breath hitches. “My Love.” Tears flow. “You make me so happy.” god, I miss him so much. “You’re beautiful.” Please… please don’t leave again.

Inside, I know it’s not right of me to ask him to stay. But when he’s gone I’m a husk. Barely surviving. He completes me. I have bound myself to him and he has bound his spirit to mine. Where he goes, my heart goes with him. The time we have together passes in a moment; the time apart drags on for years. 

I don’t ask him aloud to stay. I can’t put that on him and make him feel guilty. I know he sees the pleading in my eyes. I know the days apart hurt him like they hurt me. I want to cling to him, beg him to stay. Please don’t leave me again! You’re my very breath. But I don’t. Each time he leaves, it gets harder for me to let him go. I wonder how long I can keep doing this.

tara caribou | ©2017


Last night I dreamt you came home

I opened my eyes

The bed was empty

You weren’t there

Damn you, dreams

Building up false hope

Reality is where I need to live

——     ——     ——

Dream state: you’re home

Reality: I’m alone

Dream state: you’re cuddled up beside me

Reality: it’s cold

Dream state: you’ll never go again

Reality…. sucks

——     ——     ——

Maybe dreams aren’t so bad

Perhaps I can close my eyes

Just a little longer

Time will pass swiftly

You’ll be home again

And my arms won’t ache

For that’s where you’ll be once more


Primarily, I write because I like writing. In some ways, I can articulate, organize and sift through my thoughts and issues better than merely speaking them out loud. Written down, I can revisit them. I have a tendency to blurt things out or speak without thinking in person. Not so, when I write.

I can take my time. Edit. Remove. Add. Clarify. Re-read. Digest. Writing helps me cope and it helps me stay sane. While journaling on a real piece of paper using an actual writing implement could accomplish the same thing, in a way, it doesn’t. If I write in a paper journal, no one but me will see those words. And yes, while I primarily write for me, I also write  for you, too. Maybe a thought I write will strike you and cause you to stop and think. Or maybe to laugh or chuckle. Maybe you won’t feel so alone in your struggles. Maybe you’ll reach out to me and together we can carry the load. Whatever the reason, I’m sharing my most intimate thoughts here on the Internet.

I find, too, that if I get the words out of my head, I don’t obsess over them quite as much. I can let that thought go. Release it from my mind. Freeing me from my own self. At times, I can get stuck on a thought and stay in a rut. If I write about it, I can process it better and move on in life. Also, by writing, I stay nameless and faceless thereby bypassing the judgment that would surely come my way if I actually spoke these things out loud.

Not one single person that I know knows this blog. I blog elsewhere publicly. That blog is attached to my name and my person. Through social media and the like. This blog is special to me personally. It’s where I come out of my self-made shell, in a way, and share my inner-most thoughts and struggles. It’s where I get real. While I have a few friends who know this blog exists, they don’t know the name of it. No one could look it up by my name and attach it to me personally. Well, except the Internet robots, of course. But I have a feeling they won’t tell.

I live in relative seclusion off the power grid in rural Alaska. Location isn’t really that important, but it might explain a few things too. I don’t just get in my car and go for a drive. Or even turn on the tap for a drink of water. Life is a struggle and can also be a joy. Those things aren’t what this blog is about. Those are the physical. These writings and notes are about my thoughts, struggles, sadness, life-navigation, coping, grief, friendship, love and whatever else strikes my fancy.

I’m not going to try to dazzle you with glorious photos or deep insights. I don’t have those. What I do have is transparency, as far as my thought process goes. I want to remain anonymous but I also want to reach out and maybe help just one person out there.

I don’t need comments or likes or followers to keep doing this. Some of those would be nice, I suppose, but I’m okay with just getting these words out of me and into the air. Writing, for me, is healing. And I am in need of that. A healing of the mind and of the soul. A new page turns now.

tara caribou | ©2017

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