such passionate destruction. of something good that went slightly bad but could have been salvaged. now there is only rubble. to pick over and clean up. and after that, there's love. i love him. the same. will always.
but i won't go to him. i won't press my case. i miss him, but still don't mind the distance. it's not that i don't care...
i simply have to protect myself. the feeling of having him near was almost unbearable. unassuaged longing bordering on pain. so alive, and too blissed to get it immediately - he's not up here with me. damn. i felt foolish and angry for putting myself in that position once again. hating him for his inability to feel me in entirety. accepting its cause...whatever it be.
unwilling to continue to torture myself. seven and a match = 8. the only thing above we is S(he). infinite love. i realized long ago that it gets no better than he. but i'd rather be alone and loving than with and lonely. so i am magickally transporting myself to the point in the story
where:
it's ok to step outside and tell sister moon how much i love this man. to see the stars and think of him and feel that feeling of falling. bated breath and heart quickstep. i dance for him, burn, yearn. feel him cool on my skin, the night wind. he's so much more to me now...here.
where:
the instant i call, he answers. flashing, a bright beam of light. etherically molesting my cells. so bad, so good. i tremble. ache for his touch...here.
where:
i am about to pen a dirty missive: dear hunny, i would love to suckle you. fuck you for surprising me that way. flush ii had me all flushed and wet and wanting to...do some things. silly me, thought i'd be nosy and see what you were up to. and now i just want you up in me. as far as you can go. show me, show me, show me. just what am i missing here? tell me. give me a tongue lashing. after all...i've been a bad girl. walking away like that. would you like to punish me? tattoo your anger on my walls? i'd like you to talk slick, punctuating the point with your dick. berate me. tell me how much you hate me, for loving how well i fit you...here.
where:
it's just me, but at least i'm free. and in love.
Posted by Lisa at September 15, 2008 09:16 PM