About the author
Samantha Cauliflower was born into a family that descended from Irish potato farmers who immigrated to Australia in during The Great Potato Famine. They settled in the Riverland and farmed an alternative white spherical vegetable - the Cauliflower, until the Great Floods of 1957 saw their farm washed out. Her family then retired and Samantha went on to publish four albums of her own music, and now Polyamorous Love Letters – volume one, her new e-book.
Preface by Violet Franke
If you have not come across polyamory, you are about to experience it. Read the fictional love letters of a person whom prefers polyamory – the love of multiple intimate relationships. The wider community attaches a judgement of lust and orgy to the nature of polyamorous lives. Reading these letters is anything but. Now saying that, I may just have lost a number of readers. But I may also have gained a few. These letters are not about the ins and outs of threesomes. They are not about the radical, but the liminal. These letters are a pouring of poetic emotion onto many short cavasses of insight. Some likely to be clear and relatable, others thought provoking.
The author has written from her heart, many letters to her loves. They behold light and shadow of how the many aspects of being human, and being involved with love, “unravel” and “ravel” themselves up again, between people, and within ourselves.
Read each letter like a fine whiskey, slowly and thoughtfully. Then I am sure you will capture the author’s intent of every moment and every word.
The author has written from her heart, many letters to her loves. They behold light and shadow of how the many aspects of being human, and being involved with love, “unravel” and “ravel” themselves up again, between people, and within ourselves.
Read each letter like a fine whiskey, slowly and thoughtfully. Then I am sure you will capture the author’s intent of every moment and every word.
The Conceptual Heart
“Positivity lies in the heart’s conception”. I know you may not know what this means, but I am sure you have felt it. From time to time.
I am sitting with another love, but I am sometimes thinking of you. Your words and smile and being still catch me from afar, even though my current friend has words and smiles and a being all of her own. It is only time that has separated us, and my memory persists on keeping you near.
She is fun. You would like her. She is bright and witty, and smells like vanilla. Not that synthetic vanilla but that real depth of scent that comes from the organic vanilla pods. And I know she would like you too. But for now it is only time that separates us.
I am wondering if I should tell her much about you, or rather how much to tell her about you. I know sometimes it bothers you when I share details with other lovers, but I am in love with Love and find it in so many corners of the world. How am I meant to hold it all in, just for you? I cannot. That is why I am writing to you. The conception of my heart – its very birth – means that it breathes the wish to simply love with no physical geographical boundaries. And this means allowing my love to seek out and sit within, those other corners of the world. I know this may not make sense to you right now, but please read on. There are many letters of Love I still have to write. And I wouldn’t want you to miss out on any single word. xx
I am sitting with another love, but I am sometimes thinking of you. Your words and smile and being still catch me from afar, even though my current friend has words and smiles and a being all of her own. It is only time that has separated us, and my memory persists on keeping you near.
She is fun. You would like her. She is bright and witty, and smells like vanilla. Not that synthetic vanilla but that real depth of scent that comes from the organic vanilla pods. And I know she would like you too. But for now it is only time that separates us.
I am wondering if I should tell her much about you, or rather how much to tell her about you. I know sometimes it bothers you when I share details with other lovers, but I am in love with Love and find it in so many corners of the world. How am I meant to hold it all in, just for you? I cannot. That is why I am writing to you. The conception of my heart – its very birth – means that it breathes the wish to simply love with no physical geographical boundaries. And this means allowing my love to seek out and sit within, those other corners of the world. I know this may not make sense to you right now, but please read on. There are many letters of Love I still have to write. And I wouldn’t want you to miss out on any single word. xx
Hope
I am writing of Hope today. This beautiful soft breeze. She sits with me so gently that I can almost forget to breathe. The most beautiful words I can remember. It inspires and brings a vision. Hope is there. Just being herself.
A friend recently asked me, how can you keep on collecting people? How can you seek what you want in so many instead of so few? I said I had grown up hoping to find everything in one being, but I realized with time that I was the fool. Now I hope that through Time itself, that I manage to find everything I had hoped for amongst the beings that exist in my life times. My friend understood. I cannot spread myself thinly with one relationship and its limitations, but instead try to find enough gratitude in life and its offerings to experience and reveal myself in as many heart’s conceptions as positively possible.
Love is a risk. Love can send you high and even crazy but it can also break you and leave you for dead. I am not saying I will catch a bus and fall in love with every person on it. But my heart will be open to hearing another’s story. And falling in love with their words and smiles. I do not need to be wanton for the touch of every person. Quite often it is falling in love with the way their heart smiles and cries. And that is enough. Not even collecting people. But just an exchange of feeling. I said to my friend, “You are mistaken if you think I want to sleep with every being that walks by.” I offer the hope that often simply listening is enough.
A friend recently asked me, how can you keep on collecting people? How can you seek what you want in so many instead of so few? I said I had grown up hoping to find everything in one being, but I realized with time that I was the fool. Now I hope that through Time itself, that I manage to find everything I had hoped for amongst the beings that exist in my life times. My friend understood. I cannot spread myself thinly with one relationship and its limitations, but instead try to find enough gratitude in life and its offerings to experience and reveal myself in as many heart’s conceptions as positively possible.
Love is a risk. Love can send you high and even crazy but it can also break you and leave you for dead. I am not saying I will catch a bus and fall in love with every person on it. But my heart will be open to hearing another’s story. And falling in love with their words and smiles. I do not need to be wanton for the touch of every person. Quite often it is falling in love with the way their heart smiles and cries. And that is enough. Not even collecting people. But just an exchange of feeling. I said to my friend, “You are mistaken if you think I want to sleep with every being that walks by.” I offer the hope that often simply listening is enough.
Loneliness
Love itself is thing most prized in life. Yet men feel that money can buy them Love. Love is all around. It is a blade of grass. It is the sunlight on your skin. It is the wind in the trees. And an animal companion whom speaks another language.
Love is always there and loneliness if often just the lack of a state of mind. I realise you may disagree with this view. But if you can preserve your memories, and be your own best friend, you will always find the right company.
You can buy solitude as much as you can buy company. And we all know the feeling of being alone in a crowd full of people. Wanting to feel connection is the universal want. The Earth is always wanting us to connect with her.
And yet I do long at times. For a brush against the skin. Or a smile without words and an embrace that never lets go. I am lucky to have my memories of these moments to keep me grateful and placated. But I do still long at times.
Love is always there and loneliness if often just the lack of a state of mind. I realise you may disagree with this view. But if you can preserve your memories, and be your own best friend, you will always find the right company.
You can buy solitude as much as you can buy company. And we all know the feeling of being alone in a crowd full of people. Wanting to feel connection is the universal want. The Earth is always wanting us to connect with her.
And yet I do long at times. For a brush against the skin. Or a smile without words and an embrace that never lets go. I am lucky to have my memories of these moments to keep me grateful and placated. But I do still long at times.
Guilt
Please don’t feel guilty about leaving me tonight. I know that I have your love. And I want your love to Love. Don’t feel sad that you have rescued me from the depths, and now see me right again and on my feet. I am shore and you can always return to me. I know that you need to love as much as I need to love. Remember that I am just a little mouse with a big heart, and you will always have a place within it. So please, do not feel guilty about leaving me tonight. You have helped me find a home and a place where I flower. Go and let your own soul do the same. For that is what I would wish for you.
I feel guilt, sometimes, when I leave You. And go to another. It always reminds me of the necessary process of transition. The space between the notes. The way change has to happen. Even in the day to day. As time marches on. I usually come to a place where I remember your smile and warmth and all the other things – the parts of your being that I love. And sometimes I tell others of the nice things – but only if its relevant. Then they can at least understand my love for you, if not fall in love with you themselves.
I feel guilt, sometimes, when I leave You. And go to another. It always reminds me of the necessary process of transition. The space between the notes. The way change has to happen. Even in the day to day. As time marches on. I usually come to a place where I remember your smile and warmth and all the other things – the parts of your being that I love. And sometimes I tell others of the nice things – but only if its relevant. Then they can at least understand my love for you, if not fall in love with you themselves.
Sadness
It comes in so many shadows. That throw upon my wall. I watch the sun set and cannot pull myself away from the dark. Yet it is the very dark that appeals to my soul, letting me in on your secrets. And I would tell you mine if it is wasn’t so alarming. I know you can talk to him, and talk with her. I really feel there is no need for me to share. But tonight, I am heavy. Sad. With a clear weight that makes me want to curl my body and leak tears from my eyes, as if my bladder is full. I must allow myself to weep. To purge. This feeling. I cannot change the past nor the future. But I trust in Love. Knowing that he and she hold you in ways that I don’t. In ways that I cannot. To the folk on the outside, I know they don’t see that. But be strong and continue to engage with Love. Like the air you breathe. I know it keeps you alive. So please don’t be sad for me. For my sadness does not belong to you.
Disconnection
I am angry at you. You just really don’t understand me like she does. You don’t give the time of day to listen to me. Right now you are not holding any space for me. Not holding space. Someone said “You cannot listen with your mouth open”. Your own words leave no space for me. I might as well go and sit in another room and talk with myself. I still value my solitude you know, even though you are one of many in my heart. But I don’t think I can connect with you right now. I must leave. But I hate running to others. Maybe I just need some time. I’ll go for a drive. Just let me go now. I don’t know when I’ll be back. So don’t spend time worrying about that. You know another’s ear will be warm to my concern. And I hope you can reflect and find in yourself, a mirror where you can hear yourself over your own noise.
Illness
You all came to me when I fell sick. It was like a blessing. And when you left, I cried small tears of gratitude. I remember the times when I was alone and unwell. In so much pain that I struggled to go to the toilet, let alone get the cat food and some supplies. No one heard me then. At least I don’t think they did. If they did, they left me to struggle alone. My family was struggling with themselves then so they could not help. I just could not believe that it was a permanent injury. That I had allowed myself to once again be hurt. While there was an apology, I have not forgotten. You don’t forget. Anyhow, that was then, and this is now. And I am not alone anymore. My heart matters, my body matters. And your continued thoughtfulness will not go unforgotten. Like angels singing alongside me while birthing the pain, to rid me of the problem. Thank you all for seeing me. I hope I am there for you all when you need in return.
Jealousy
I still find jealousy within myself. It is a human thing. I find it grows when I leave it unspoken. And when I can illuminate it in words, it loses it power. And then I am free again for a while. Sometimes, I am even jealous for my own solitude. Like when I am in a crowded room, and I desperately would prefer to be at home in my comfy clothes.Writing you another love letter. And holding space for you, even if you are not physically there.
So thank you for listening when its ugly head rises up on my shoulders. Your ear is all I need. I do not expect to ever conquer the jealous beast within. Awareness is my sword, and I will continue to cut of its every head with my outwards words, if you can continue to simply listen. And you know I love you for simply listening.
So thank you for listening when its ugly head rises up on my shoulders. Your ear is all I need. I do not expect to ever conquer the jealous beast within. Awareness is my sword, and I will continue to cut of its every head with my outwards words, if you can continue to simply listen. And you know I love you for simply listening.
Wandering Love
It’s like sitting under a weeping mulberry tree at the end of summer. The tree is full and green and offers so much shade. I remember a full lemon tree growing up. It had been grafted with at least five different kinds of lemons so that it fruited all year round. A bit like us. And you let me breathe when I need to, or gather fruit when I need to. And in the in-between we keep growing. Such a little thing.
I always say, water the flowers not the weeds in your mind. Nurture the positive thoughts that come by through whatever creation. Put them out into the world and them let them go. For I cannot control how they are perceived by you. I only have my faith and your trust. Just like music and words and any creation… I even put my body before you to let its love wander like the branches of a weeping mulberry tree. On the one side you are my shade. On the other side, you sit with me in the sun.
And you make me smile.
I always say, water the flowers not the weeds in your mind. Nurture the positive thoughts that come by through whatever creation. Put them out into the world and them let them go. For I cannot control how they are perceived by you. I only have my faith and your trust. Just like music and words and any creation… I even put my body before you to let its love wander like the branches of a weeping mulberry tree. On the one side you are my shade. On the other side, you sit with me in the sun.
And you make me smile.
Money Honeys
So I have just done my budget for the next month, and I don’t know how it will all go. Actually I know exactly how it will all go.
And I don’t want to lean on any of you. I’ll be ok. It will just be cheese sandwiches for a week or two most probably. Lucky there is enough whiskey in the cupboard. But we all have different incomes. Your money is not mine. I make my own way and usually come out fine. This is starting to rhyme. I best change my wind.
Writing it all out helps me see. It’s not forever, just those same old quarterly bills that require some planning. I hope you won’t even notice if I keep food on the table and the lights on. Know that I am always grateful if you have ever shown favours to me. It’s just for little while, a little while I hope, some things will be on my mind. Life is not about stuff. And don’t make life about money I remind myself. But sometimes it is a devilish necessity to keep a roof over your head and food in the belly. And sometimes I hate that.
And I don’t want to lean on any of you. I’ll be ok. It will just be cheese sandwiches for a week or two most probably. Lucky there is enough whiskey in the cupboard. But we all have different incomes. Your money is not mine. I make my own way and usually come out fine. This is starting to rhyme. I best change my wind.
Writing it all out helps me see. It’s not forever, just those same old quarterly bills that require some planning. I hope you won’t even notice if I keep food on the table and the lights on. Know that I am always grateful if you have ever shown favours to me. It’s just for little while, a little while I hope, some things will be on my mind. Life is not about stuff. And don’t make life about money I remind myself. But sometimes it is a devilish necessity to keep a roof over your head and food in the belly. And sometimes I hate that.
Whiskey, Wine and Women
Just a little at a time, so you don’t get too drunk. Really her love I tell you makes my being spin. So lofty and high. She drinks wine, but never talks about it at length. I like that. My love for whiskey is much the same. Quiet and personal. Yet we both share a taste on our lips. I really would know how to explain the many incarnations I have had through life so far. And I am glad she doesn’t really make me explain. Just like she drinks her wine. Just a little at a time, so you don’t get too drunk. I tell you. I am in love. Again.
Grace
You have always been there for me. Even when I was dark. Even when I am scattered. I know your philosophy is to let people do whatever they want to do. To try not to change them. Like her. “To allow people the dignity to make their own mistakes”.
Those pearls that were around my neck. Reminding me of humility and grace. To have it. To hold it. To carry it round but never possess it. Yet another intangible, just like the verging of many loves. A place I hold, for you. And for her. To carry it but never possess.
Those pearls that were around my neck. Reminding me of humility and grace. To have it. To hold it. To carry it round but never possess it. Yet another intangible, just like the verging of many loves. A place I hold, for you. And for her. To carry it but never possess.
Intimacy
The duality of hetero monogamy, although rewarded by society, means you are often only seeing each other through one mirror. And our friendships, then serve to nurture the parts of the garden left unwatered by that het. I tell you. I fall in love with all my good friends at some point. But that doesn’t mean I have a need to sleep with them. So when I say, I love you, and I love her. Understand that your mirrors are some of the most intimate ones in my life.
And I have an intimate relationship with myself. My life’s work of developing myself through attaining and practicing skills. Sometimes to earn money, sometimes to express a reflection in music or prose or paint. Although I do not dare to touch. For it is through those doors that only you can open, that I am released. And I have learnt to wait for the knock at the door; or a tap on the window.
Then my heart would skip a beat. And you would again take away my breath.
And I have an intimate relationship with myself. My life’s work of developing myself through attaining and practicing skills. Sometimes to earn money, sometimes to express a reflection in music or prose or paint. Although I do not dare to touch. For it is through those doors that only you can open, that I am released. And I have learnt to wait for the knock at the door; or a tap on the window.
Then my heart would skip a beat. And you would again take away my breath.
Separation
I know that you understand how two can separate and still be friends. When of course, it’s not toxic. But you still unravel. Unfurl. It is going to take time to unravel. And I don’t mind. We are not losing each other as friends. And that is enough to sustain love. The love with her has stayed. Just changed shape. There is no need to be bitter. Or loud. There are muses of sadness and at the time of the conversations, there were tears. But then we realized we could unravel any way we wanted to. And that is what we are doing. Nothing is permanent. Everything is in flux. Like air molecules themselves. Or the darkest of dark matter. Ever changing. Separation is just another way of taking breath. We are still alive. We are still smiling. And our love persists. Just ravelled into another braid. It really is a beautiful thing.
If you can focus on the present with me, and maybe a little into the future, then we can play when its sunny and rest when it’s not. I am here for you now. If we ever separate ourselves, our love will simply unravel into another braid. At least, that is always my hope.
If you can focus on the present with me, and maybe a little into the future, then we can play when its sunny and rest when it’s not. I am here for you now. If we ever separate ourselves, our love will simply unravel into another braid. At least, that is always my hope.
Water
My breath is the cool winter’s night. The dew on my window when I wake. The fall of rain after the heat. The drops of saliva that spray when you sneeze. The last few drops of whiskey in my glass. The way our nation uses drinking water to flush toilets. And the blessing of hot water to wash ourselves. My clothing has water content even when dry to wear. My eyes water even when dry. My blood bleeds because of it. And we cry. And it remembers us. Us. Complicated cucumbers pop culture tells me.
Our Earth sustains it. She made it pure. And we dirty it, sometimes forever. Conservation of mass. Water is not unlimited. Heat evaporates it. And it disappears. It will probably define borders, and shape the future of our worlds. Drink from it. Be alive with it. Make it equitable. But do not ever take it for granted.
Our Earth sustains it. She made it pure. And we dirty it, sometimes forever. Conservation of mass. Water is not unlimited. Heat evaporates it. And it disappears. It will probably define borders, and shape the future of our worlds. Drink from it. Be alive with it. Make it equitable. But do not ever take it for granted.
Blood
I’m bleeding again. A privileged event, as man does not own it. Although inventions do govern our fertility. So I’m wrapped up here, in my spasm, and pain and loss. Shedding the past month and letting go. The pain reminds me to check if I looked after myself in that month. And that also reminds me to reflect on how my love went along. She understands. She is Woman. But you, my darling man. You always attempt to understand. And I love you for that. I push you away for a few days while I retreat. My body shedding and repairing. My soul catching its breath. Rest. Quiet. And sometimes pain. Apparently, the endometriosis will get worse. But I am lucky I have not had it sooner. An intervention may be sought down the track. The removal of my womb. The ending of another relationship. I don’t know why I get horny when I bleed too. Sex can add to the feeling. But I know it’s not one of your favourite things! She holds me. And fucks me. You fuck me. Then you hold me. It’s a time of coming and going. And I love you both for being a part of this, every month.
Pain
You know when I have physical pain, I can talk about it. And I scowl. But the emotional pain, often leaves me quiet. I do not like lashing out when hurt. I am like a small mammal that retreats, and sits still. But the sun is out today. And I know you wonder; how can I be in pain now? But you hurt me. Your behaviour. Your words. I remember how you make me feel every time you lose it. I feel embarrassed to talk about it. Like it was a shameful accident that involved me. Like it was my fault you lost your cool. I know you often apologise, but I can’t forget.
Anyway, I move on. After I manage the stress reaction, and talk about the incident with a good friend. If you cannot change that behaviour, I will have to unravel and walk away. But you know I would prefer not to. xx
Constipation
For an artist, it doesn’t happen very often. Unless I eat too much cheese. I can often turn myself to another direction, and write or paint or sing and dance or cry or laugh or smile or sit. But sometimes, there are the relationships that end, that don’t flow. They just stop. And I know you support my heart's desire to love. Even though you’ve told me you hate seeing me hurt. But you can’t have love without pain. It’s impossible. There are so many songs about love testifying.
So constipation. Is there simply a laxative? No. Just let go. Be grateful. And keep taking the risk to walk through life with an open heart.
I love you both. Thanks for always listening. xx
So constipation. Is there simply a laxative? No. Just let go. Be grateful. And keep taking the risk to walk through life with an open heart.
I love you both. Thanks for always listening. xx
Regret
I often say “no such thing as regret, just things you haven’t done yet.” Like apologise, or let go. Or both. I don’t regret my past connections. In fact, I think I really try to celebrate the past and savour a continuing bond. Celebrate. Not regret. Love is often painful. And you always risk being broken. But these fluid days, we get to choose how we respond when the bond needs to change form. We get to choose. We do not need to tear each other down. We can choose to try to stay as kind a possible. After all, both parties hurt when there is separation. Take good care of each other. And don’t regret the parting. Cry. Wail. But come to a point where you can celebrate the fact that you made it so long together. And you still have friendship. The best ship of all.
If you were damaged, and hurt, you can leave. But don’t allow the anger to keep you in regret. You made the best choices at the time. And love often gives you no choice. It can be a powerful force. But you can let go. And if you are a lucky one, you can celebrate rather than regret.
I know you didn’t ask for my advice, but here it is. From experience. I am sorry for the pain. But it’s in the past. I am so glad we are alive. I hope you can stay on my ship of friends. xx
If you were damaged, and hurt, you can leave. But don’t allow the anger to keep you in regret. You made the best choices at the time. And love often gives you no choice. It can be a powerful force. But you can let go. And if you are a lucky one, you can celebrate rather than regret.
I know you didn’t ask for my advice, but here it is. From experience. I am sorry for the pain. But it’s in the past. I am so glad we are alive. I hope you can stay on my ship of friends. xx
Gentle
I remember what attracted me to you. Your gentleness. I have come to see it as such a beautiful thing in a man. Strength in the gentleness. Not just in touch, but paramount in Being. And in her. In Woman. I remember someone singing, “It takes a hard woman to be soft.” And I rejoice in also seeing it in myself from time to time. The process of softening. Of shedding my skin. And then you meet me in the middle of the air, and hold me in that same place. Gentle. But yes, your masculinity holds a gentleness that I find insurmountably attractive. I am always drawn back to you because of that. It’s not a privilege of the mature either. Sometimes I see it in the young. But your tinges of grey remind me, that you have found your gentle. That you are kind. And. That you hold my love there.
A Different Kind
This with you, and with her – a different kind of love. Like music as the space between the notes, we are different notes, with different spaces between us. Together in song. I could not write each breath that we take. Yet it carries a tune in my heart. By loving you both I love myself. A reflection in song, like sculpted cliffs answering the call of the waves. It’s a different kind of love to what many assume from the outside. Really I relish our delicate privacy. They can assume, and sometimes the stereotyping still bothers me, just a little. What matters is what I feel for you. I hold our spaces dear. And remind myself by looking at your smile, that our singing is sacred. The skin of my soul. Delivering a resonance to my bones, and a layering of memories that is again, a privileged to live with.
Broken Hearts
You know I could not leave her without breaking my own heart into a million pieces as well. There is no love without pain I remind myself. And I cannot go through life just sitting the corner, to be always safe. Your risk to love me is precious. Your kindness to hear me. To kiss me so gently. I did not get here without travelling many miles. My heart has scars. Sometimes my smile is crooked, but you instantly straighten that out. You were there when I left one of my friends behind. When they walked away. This different kind of love is not about replacing someone. Or finding a replacement. And it’s not about creating a collection to lord over.
My scarred heart loves because it can do nothing but. It beats because of hope, because of a conception of positivity that is like ink in my blood. And it is your breath that continues to hold and nurture and water me. We all grow.
And I am forever grateful.
Thank you.
My scarred heart loves because it can do nothing but. It beats because of hope, because of a conception of positivity that is like ink in my blood. And it is your breath that continues to hold and nurture and water me. We all grow.
And I am forever grateful.
Thank you.
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