to touch, to see

 Her eyes are almost completely black in the near darkness. All but a single light are off because of her shyness and insecurity, but she doesn't realize that my eyesight in the dark is excellent. I can see her, the slight smile on her lips, the curve of her cheek, the shape of her breasts, the lines of her body and swell of her hips. I see it all as plain as day, and even if I could not I would know it. I know every inch of her beautiful body. I could be in utter darkness, and still know her face. Cut off my hands, and I would still feel the silk that is her skin.

 We come together, our arms around each other lightly, tentatively. We kiss, as we always have, softly at first. We tease and tempt each other with our lips, our hands moving over our bare skin holding each other close as we caress all the most sensitive parts of our bodies. As our kisses gain strength and fire, our hands become more bold. We move our way to the bed as our timidness gives way to passion...

Let it rain!

Let it rain, let the shit fall. Let it come pouring down. What else can you do to me? What else do you want? Take it all. You want me to bleed, then cut me. You want me to drown in all the bullshit you keep giving me, then let it rain down. I will not hide from it. I will not run from your blade. You want me to hurt, then beat me. Attack my body with your fists, scratch at my mind with your actions and words. You want suffering, then I will gladly feed you all the suffering you desire. Keep it up, just keep pushing me down, bury me in the mud and shit that you’ve heaped upon me. Entomb me in hurt, wrap me in pain. Soon, I will be so tightly contained, so deeply covered that I will be no more than a fossil. A stone figure of myself, unfeeling of the pain, uncaring of emotion, and devoid of the need for others. I will climb out of the mountain you’ve piled on top of my grave, and all the pain you send my way will be no more than dust in the wind. All your words will fall upon deaf ears and a stone heart. All your actions will go unseen by dead eyes. And when you feel that trickle of fear at seeing this monster, when the knowledge of what you’ve done to the person I once was sets in, when the feeling of loss touches you, when you want the old me back, there will be nothing to go back to. So let it rain, let the pain crash against me in a thousand tear drops. Let it pour, let it flow like a wave of accusations and mistrust. Let it fill me completely, from the bottom of my heart to the ends of my soul and, like concrete, let it set there until I am nothing but stone…

Open Gates

The gates stood open, their once golden shine now tarnished. I walked through the empty streets, searching, seeking something I could not grasp. At the center of the once golden city stood a mansion larger than all the rest, its doors open like the gates. Where once light shown everywhere, a luminescence that was infused in everything, now there was shadow inside those doors. In this city where no one need fear anything, I felt a chill run up my spine.

 Step by hesitant step I climbed the stairs to the doorway. Just as I reached the top the laughter began. It was behind me, above me, all around me. Not cheerful laughter, but maniacal. It was the laugh of someone who had done something wrong and reveled in it, enjoying the cruelness of it and the pain it caused.  Then it was in my head, louder and louder until it was nearly deafening. But, below it all, there was a tone. A whisper of sound, almost discernible, it was so quiet that I had to strain with my entire mind to hear it. I latched onto the sound, like a life raft in a raging sea. Slowly, words formed in my mind.

“Why…”

Why what? Whose voice is this, hearing just that word stirred some feeling deep inside of me.

“…Have you…”

Have I what? That feeling is stronger, an ache in my chest. I know this voice, I know her voice, whoever she is.

“Done…?”

Done what? I don’t understand! Please tell me! Talk to me! I need to hear your voice!

“Why have you done this?”

The words explode in my mind, erasing the evil laughter, erasing all thoughts, leaving me spiraling into the darkness of my mind, falling, falling down into nothing. I am screaming but there is no sound, I am calling to you but you do not answer. I reach out for you…

And land painfully on the floor with my blankets wrapped around me.

Wanted to

  I wanted so badly to be there, to see you. I was so close to asking, offering, possibly begging just to see you again. I wanted to talk to you the way we have before, with a deep love and uncontrolled desire. To hear the sound of your voice is ecstasy, to think of the way you feel torture to my untouched skin. I wanted to run to you, right into your arms and wrap you in my own. I wanted to lay you down and wash the world away with my kisses, to ease your mind and soothe your aching body with my hands. I can imagine it, my gift and curse.

  I can see you lying there as I run my hands up and down your back, rubbing your bare shoulders and sliding down your arms until my body is pressed against yours and our hands are entwined. Then I release you and return to your shoulders, kneading your muscles until all of your worries have disappeared. Working my hands over your tight back, The sigh that escapes your lips emboldens me to explore further. My hands trace the curve of your thighs, across the hollow at the small of your back, and down the swell of your bottom. Your legs, the firm taut muscles usually so tense from constant motion, melt as I work my fingers down them. With pressure and tenderness I finally force you to relax and let the stress pour itself out of your body and mind. I can feel your heart beating softly through your sensitive skin and I know you are at peace, the rhythm lulling you into an almost sleep like state, drowsing as you enjoy the intimate attention and sensual warmth.

Bring with you the sun

 Yet another sunrise without you next to me, but still with me. It reminds me of all the ones I’ve seen before and thought of you. There were days when the night seemed to last forever and at the end, when I was tired and sore, battered and bruised, I watched the sky lighten and the dark recede as I welcomed the sun into a new day. I thought of you each time.

  It was not just the beauty of the moment that reminded me of your face, or the warmth that brought back images of your smile, or the light reminding me of the brightness of your eyes. The sunrise reminded me of how I felt about you. My time without hearing from you was like long nights, and when I got your letters, they brought with them the dawn. It shined so bright and then faded away as I read them over and over, the paper growing soft and the ink wearing away. The days would go on, and then the night would fall. No matter how bright the sun shined down on the desert, or how hot the days got, it would be night to me until your next letter came.

 Now every sunrise reminds me of you. Whether it’s the sun coming over the lip of the earth onto a barren land, or over a hill into a peaceful valley, coming over a bend in the road, or through the window as I lay in my bed and think of you, every time the sun finds me, it brings you, your face, your smile, your eyes. I do not get letters anymore, but I hear from you still, and when I do it still brings light to my life.

What it's like

I just want to know what it’s like to be happy, to feel so completely right in my life. I have felt it before, I know it’s possible; I just have to get to a place where I can reach out and grasp it. It will be a hard climb, and the obstacles are many and dangerous, but I will make it because I have a guide, my heart on a string, leading me ever upward toward my goal, the plateau on the mountain top where happiness is waiting for me. Will you be there? Will you be alone? I’ve decided that these questions do not even require thought, because I will make it there and if I can make it there, I can do anything that needs to be done to be happy.

The prey

  I part the crowd easily enough, a tiger gliding through the reeds as it stalks its prey. Tonight’s prey waits for me at the head of the table, unaware of any danger. I note the guards watching for trouble, the warriors scattered throughout the hall that could change from merry makers to savage fighters in an instant. It is important to be aware of every danger you might encounter. I continue to move toward my prey as the fool groom drinks his wine and laughs at something his new bride has said, her head bowed and lips barely moving, as his guests pass by giving their well wishes. An unlikely pair, the man round as a gourd and known for his temper and wandering hands while the girl is small, almost childlike, quiet and shy, and has never been outside her own village, much less her own country before coming here to be a bride. The feast is in their honor, for they were wed today. A forced arrangement, granting peace at the price of the young girls innocence and freedom. My training does not permit me to become involved in the matters that surround my prey, but a smile crosses my lips as I think of the gift the bride would receive this night, and I allow myself to wonder if she will be happy to keep her innocence.

 I continue forward, in no hurry, milling with the crowd but moving steadily toward my target. My route of escape is already planned, my mission playing over and over in my head. I am close now, the adrenaline begins to course through me as I prepare to strike; one blow, fast efficient, deadly. I move to the edge of the table, standing just to the side of my prey, my whole body tense. My body wants to strike, but my instincts hold me steady, make me wait for just the right moment.

 Suddenly a scream erupts as one of the well wishers pulls a dagger from his cloak and, leaping over the table, attempts to drive the blade into the grooms heart, calling out the love for his country, and the young brides. Amateur. He is stopped easily by the sword of the nearest guard as he steps from the brides’ side to defend the happy couple. The room explodes into chaos, guards and warriors unsheathing swords and axes, searching for more would be assailants. I walk easily out of the meeting hall into the clear night sky as the other party goers and well wishers run past me screaming for fear of being caught in the midst of a battle. I find my horse where I left him, untethered. The people do not bother him, neither their screams nor their proximity, and anyone who dared touch him would find themselves quickly on the floor with a hoof shaped bruise on their chest. He has been well trained, just as I have. As I ride slowly out of town the call goes out. Word spreads like wild fire. It took them less time to realize than I had thought, but no matter. They begin searching the town for the murderer, going from house to house, looking for someone to blame, any outsider, but I am already gone.

 War will come now; there will be consequences for the sudden end of this union. The two countries will destroy each other in answer to this simple act. That is no concern of mine, of course. It only means more missions for me. Yes, war will come now, and all for the death of one girl, forever innocent. 

A broken hold

 In all the years we have been together, I have held her as she slept. We never wake that way, but that is how we fall asleep. In the past few weeks, because I go to sleep early and she stays up until very late, she has been waking me and asking me to hold her, until last night. I woke because she had turned on the light, but I did not move. I listened as she got undressed, knowing by the sounds what she was doing and when. I felt her get into bed, and I waited. I could have turned and held her without her asking, but if I did that I would be releasing her from the only sign of affection she still gives me. So I wait, and wait, and I hear her snore, and I feel sad.

 I guess this is it, then. This is the true end for us. She doesn’t even require that I hold her anymore. There is nothing left to say or do. Even through our slow separation, I always held some hope we could still be friends, still care for each other more deeply than just acquaintances or roommates. But that is gone now. I close my eyes and hope that sleep finds me as quickly as it did her.

 I am surprised when she rolls over and puts her hand on the small of my back and cuddles slightly closer to me. Suddenly that lost hope is back! She has never done this before; it has always been me coming to her, never her to me. I feel the warmth of her hand on my back and her body pressed against me and I hope again. Maybe we can be friends, two people who tried at love and missed the mark, but found friendship instead. And isn’t that a kind of love in itself, the love of a friend. Maybe we can still talk and smile in each other’s company, though we soon will not live together, maybe we can call and chat and follow each other’s lives as good friends do. All of these thoughts went through my mind in a matter of seconds, as thoughts tend to do. All of the possibilities of our friendship lasting, blossoming into something real that we can both rely on and hold on to, if not lovers than at least caring friends.

 And then she said his name. It was a whisper, but it was loud enough to crush those thoughts, to tear up that road I was walking toward a happy ending. When she turned away again, when her hand lifted from my back, I would not have been surprised to see a burn where it had been. Not from a heat so intense that it could burn at the touch, but from ice so cold it could freeze in an instant.

 I lay there for a long time, wishing for sleep to come and take away my thoughts. Those thoughts of goodbye, and of never agains; of a future of misunderstandings, arguments, and fights until we walk away from each other and never look back. Now the roads I walk all lead to the same end, there is no other way to go, no chance at friendship, at understanding, only goodbye, always goodbye. But sleep is a long time coming this night, as the cold keeps me awake. And though I am covered in blankets, they do nothing to ease the chill that her hand left on my skin.

dreams

 Take my dreams with you. Use them to make your own come true. They are shattered, and of no use to me, but you can use the pieces to fill in your own dream, or stand on the broken parts of my heart to reach a new happiness. So take my dreams with you, even as you leave me behind. I do not mind, because for every dream that's shattered another one comes true, and I want it to be yours.

What of it...?

What of beauty, what of looks. They will fade in time. Hairs turn grey, then white, or fall away altogether. Skin goes from fair and soft to worn leather as the years go by. It is not physical beauty that I search for, that I long for, that I lust after.

What of words, and the voices that say them. They will fade in time. What was said yesterday will be forgotten by tomorrow. What is written can be lost or burned, what is spoken can be twisted and turned against the speaker. It is not fancy words and promises that I search for, that I long for, That I lust after.


What of happiness, what of joy. They will fade in time. Such fickle feelings, they last no longer than a moment, strung together on a translucent string until they are abruptly snipped by the next feeling to come along. No more reliable than a tornado, the feeling comes and goes without call or reason. It is not everlasting happiness that I search for, that I long for, That I lust after.

What of love, what of forever. Yes.... what of it. There is no real love in loving one's body, only lust and desire. There is no true love in words, spoken or written, which can be taken back or torn apart. There is no forever in happiness and joy because feelings are ever changing and uncontrollable. So what of forever love. Simple, it is that which I search for, I long for, I lust after. That is love.

Of my life

“You are the love of my life.”

 When I heard those words I wanted it to be true with all my heart. I felt that we would be together forever, and nothing would be able to tear us apart. I saw, but did not pay attention to, the serious look on your beautiful face, nor did I hear the matter of fact way you spoke the words. These things were lost to me. I knew we were meant to be, without a doubt. Until you said there was someone else.

 Then the words became what they sounded like. It was a goodbye, the sweetest way to say goodbye you could think of. You didn’t say those words to bring us closer together, you said them as a final message of farewell. It was shorter than “I love you, but we can’t see each other anymore.” Deeper than “I don’t want to see you anymore.” Softer than “I’ve found someone else.” But it meant all those things.

 For a while, I thought I’d lost my heart completely, because I had given it all at those words, and I thought I had been given a piece of your heart as well. It felt like I was dying as you told me of this other person. Deep inside, where only you have been, where my heart used to be, I stood at my center and screamed. Great racking sobs shook my mind and soul, even as I reassured you that it was ok, that I would be alright. I clenched the piece of heart in my hand like a life line, afraid it would disappear and go back to you.

 It didn’t, of course, because it wasn’t a piece of your heart. It was a piece of mine. The goodbye hidden in your words cracked my heart and sent this small shard flying back to me. I held it, staring at it as it pulsed weakly. I could feel all of the pain and the loss pouring out of it as it reached out for the love that was not there, for the rest of it that was gone forever. I raised it up, determined to throw it down with enough force to destroy it, and me, forever. But I could not. As I stood, ready to end it, the shard spoke one simple phrase.

“You are the love of my life.”

It was calling out to you, using the same words you used to break it. They rang through me like the tolling of a thousand bells, reverberating off of every memory, every thought. In the dark emptiness where my heart used to belong I created a pedestal, a stone column stopping at waist height. I set the shard there, letting the pulsing light turning the darkness to a deep, painful red. I set myself there, my true self, with all my emotions, all my hopes and dreams. I set myself against the pedestal, with one hand on the shard, and then I began to build. Walls, barriers, a few at first, then more as every time we spoke the shard would shine brightly and burn fiercely at the sound of your voice, hope would be given and then taken away without remorse, and then the pain would flow from it once more. I would feel it all, my true self holding on for dear life.

 The walls continue to go up, and still you get through. I’ve blocked my true self away from everything, to protect me from my all knowing mind. The mind that knew how things are going with you before I even ask, the mind that picked at every memory searching for the harsh truth, before I locked them away in my true self. It is too late of course, the seeds are there. The mind has enough information to ask the worst questions. Did you ever love me? Is it possible that you love me still? What does he have that I do not? Why do you choose him again and again over me, even in friendship? More and more questions pop up every minute, every day. Questions I dare not ask, and answers that I’m afraid I already know. There is one thing I allow myself, more because I cannot stop it than because I want it. It’s a simple thing, but it means so much to me. I hear it through the walls, feel it in every part of me. It’s a part of everything I do, and everything I feel. It’s true, there is no goodbye in it, no hidden agenda. It is simply that you are the love of my life.

Waiting on Goodbye

Goodbye, I can’t take it anymore.

Goodbye, I can’t deal with the pain this causes.

Goodbye, I have to let you go.

Goodbye, I have to disappear.

Goodbye, you don’t love me.

Goodbye, you don’t want me.

No matter, how many times I let you go, how many times I say goodbye, I cannot let the words leave my mind and exit my mouth. My heart keeps stopping them. “Just a little more time,” he says. Just give her a little more time.

“Time for what?”

“Time to see.”

 My mind is like the highway, constantly moving, always faster, a thousand different exits and I must try them all. But my heart…. My heart is a tree. A great redwood that has lasted for years, decades, centuries, growing stronger with time and weathering everything that comes against it. My heart does not need to know the tip of each branch, because it feels them. It does not have a destination, it simply grows outward and upward, encompassing all around it. My heart will weather this as it has everything else. It will love you forever, as long as it stands my love for you will always grow.

 But my mind, I worry for my mind. It keeps going from road to road, looking for the right exit, the right way. It does not feel the road, it cannot feel the right path that will lead it to you. It must go down every road, every possibility, and dead end after dead end tells it to let you go. But somewhere there is a road, and that road leads to a place where you are waiting for me. All my mind needs is a little more time, time to find the right road. Time my heart knows it needs. Until that road is found. My mind will still keep saying goodbye, and my heart will keep saying wait, just wait.

the darkness

 In the darkness I wait, the steel bars around me reflecting the cold metal cage that surrounds my heart. And then I hear it, the loveliest noise I could ever imagine. “Pit-pat pit-pat,” it comes closer and closer, and at the door the jingle of keys, a lock being released with a loud “CLICK” as if the mechanism itself is happy to be free of its burden. Your visits are always the same:

 You will walk in smiling as always, the whole room bursting into light at your presence. It is nearly blinding, as if each individual beam of light wants to shine its best for you. Then you will walk up to me, your light colliding with my darkness, creating an explosive spectrum of grays to fill the room. The bars will melt away and we will walk along, talking of nothing and yet it will mean everything to me. And as we walk, you never mention the chains around my neck and arms or the shackles on my feet that lead me inexorably back to the darkness. Being with you, I am as close to free as I will ever be.

 But wait, what is that sound? It's not any of the usual sounds that fill my cage, I did not even notice it while I was daydreaming of you. There it is again, the “thud, thud, thud” of a dull and boring heart beat walking beside your “pit-pat, pit-pat.” Who is it, who could be with you? You’ve never brought anyone here before. I didn’t have to wait long to find out as you open the door.

 You are as radiant as ever, and I can’t help but think that the rest of the world must seem darker without you in the heavens to shine upon it. But now, standing next to you, his hand in yours, a grey ghost appears. He has been no more real to me than a character in a story, a figment of your imagination, but now he is here and we are face to face. And though you are still bright as the sun, the entrance of his grey into our black and white world has darkened it slightly. The spectrum is no longer so long, and pure white is not one of its ends. The bars that once melted away only weaken now, forcing me to pull, push, and twist them out of my way. His reaction to my monstrous display is to step forward as if to protect you from me! Does he not know that he is the only one in danger here.

 The darkness, that force that is a part of me as much as I am of it, flows out like tentacles playing at the edges of the circle of light you and, only due to his proximity to you, he are being protected by. If not for you, he would scarcely have made it past the door before my darkness extinguished the blandness he calls a soul. But you do not notice any of this.

 To you, I am still me, if a little out of sync. Your vibrant eyes pour light upon my face so that no shadows of my dark nature remain. But when you look at him with those same eyes the beast in me lunges, held back only by my shackles and chains. Those things you so easily dismiss are all that he sees, this is all he knows of the person you confide in.

 And when you look at him I see too. His nature is revealed, for he shines with a breathtaking light. But it is false light, merely a reflection of your wonder. He is a mirror, a looking glass that shows you exactly what you wish to see. And now the reflected light is harsh. Refined through his jealous heart, heat is added to your once pure and brilliant presence. While your light merely dissipated the dark around me, his light burns it. Like a child with a magnifying glass, he kills my essence piece by piece, burning scars into my flesh and cutting through the spectrum that once connected our two worlds, our two souls.

 This is our end. With your favor upon him, he turns his light on our final remnant of friendship and removes me from you. With our bonds gone, with our ties lost, I know that you will not return again. Even as you say goodbye and tell me you’ll see me later, the smile on his face tells me that this is our last farewell. The door closes in slow motion as I see the light wane and shrink until the final sliver falls upon my face. Then “CLICK,” the lock snaps shut; so loud in its triumphant laugh as if to say “now I will never have to open again.”

 Now in the darkness I wait, but there are no sounds to hear. There is no one to wait for. Instead of steel bars I now stare at the cold stone walls of the crypt where my heart is finally laid to rest. No inscription in marble, no flowers on my grave, just me and my still heart, alive but alone.

knock

 I’m standing on your doorstep, unsure what to do. Inside is a life I want to have, a love I want to share, and the one I want to see. All it would take is a knock, or a single push of the doorbell. You’ll answer with a smile and invite me in. We’ll laugh and joke and hug and talk of the time we’ve wasted and the fools we’ve been. We’ll embrace each other, holding on as we let go of the walls we’ve held up for so long. We will sit together, still holding, and that will be the start of a wonderful life. All I need to do is knock.

 And yet I can’t. That is all a fairytale, a fools dream, a beautiful story to ease a sad and heavy heart. I know it, even as my hand rises to the door to test that theory. What if this is the sad story, and what lies beyond this door is the reality I’ve been looking for? If not exactly as I’d hoped, maybe something close. A tentative touch, perhaps, some nervous laughs as we test our barriers. A silly question or a foolish comment before one of us breaks down and says what they’re really thinking. It’s possible, more possible than the other anyway.

 I steel myself and bring my hand forward, knocking lightly, hesitantly on the door. I wait, each second seeming an eternity. I start to entertain the idea that you’re not home. Maybe you’ve gone out and I’ll be spared the embarrassment one more day. Yes, you’re out, that must be it.

 As I turn to go, however, the door opens. I turn and smile the best smile I can. It falters, cracking like dropped porcelain. You’re not happy to see me. There is no smile waiting for me when I turn, only surprise and possibly annoyance. You look beautiful, and you are dressed to impress, but not for me. I hear him ask who it is; I see you look nervously at me for a moment. What do you say? What can you say that won’t cause a problem with him? I see those questions in your eyes as if you yelled them out loud.

 “Sorry, wrong house.” I turn and walk back to my car on the street, get in and drive away, as fast as the car and my pain will take me. I know by now you’ve closed the door and gone back to his side. You’re probably laughing about something, with your arms wrapped around each other. I can only hope it’s not me you’re laughing about, although I doubt you even gave me a second thought. At least I know you’ll have a wonderful life.