A fictive tale about love
I feel you.
In every breath.
In every stroke.
With every thrust.
He reminds me of you. Every man I am with, every soul that comes close. You are always here, yet always out of reach.
I feel his hands on my body – they give me glimpses of times when your strong hands would hold me firmly. When you would throw me to the floor, hold me tight and take me.
I feel his warm breath in my neck – they remind me of a time when the cold outside would fade away in the fires of our love. Sweat dripping on sweat, your smell still lingering on my skin.
I feel the weight of his body when he lies down on me – and I feel you. I know that these were the times that we were safe – when you would rest on top of me, your weight pushing me down in the soft grounds.
Bodies touching. Souls merging.
I am with you.
Where are you?
I am devoured by the darkness. Resting in the shadows of who I used to be. My soul ripples through the cracks of shattered dreams.
Hope is for the weak. Peace is for the dead. Have you not yet fawned, slowly giving into failure – letting the illusion rupture underneath your bare skin?
Are you still seeking the one?
Are you still blinded by the light?
Are you still sitting around like the fool, waiting for love to show up?
My heart is ripped apart by all the men that came before you.
My strength is beaten down, by all the hands that have ravished me.
My hope is crushed by all the times it was not you.
It is when you devour me, that I know what it means to be alive.
It is when you fail to see me, that I know I have to watch out.
Can we ever go back?
Can I ever again rest in your touch?
Can you ever again hold me, caress my breasts, lift me up against the bare stone walls?
I gave my devil to your soul. Every time she comes around the corner, I know that you are close. My love is your love. My heart is your heart. Even when evil is around, even when I am in the darkest corners of my soul – you are there.
Tear me up. Take me raw. Push me down. Hold my breath. Now.
And for ever.
I am yours.