NEW CYCLES - In My Head

 Purposely, so into each other, he consumed me. Everything about me, he seemed to love it here. He saw me. completely, solely, visibly so unbothered by the drift in my energy. 

For me, it was him still. He had broken into me. To the core and to my depth, my very thing he'd told himself to love about me, that everything about me is love and done in love. He had said, one time, in my presence, to some girl, "she's a lover, and I love that. Everything about her embodies love." 

For a while I waited for him to say "I want that for her. to give it to her or at least learn her language and make it mine." I couldn't escape him, at the time it seemed even if I wanted to. In that moment he made sense, because sexually, he was all I knew, my unfulfilled fantasy, the person that had told me "don't move" while his being was inside. I had his soul deep in mine, and for the first time, he felt like mine. 

This new cycle, was patient and gentle. He knew I'd be deep in my hell wondering about something that no longer had me but was haunting me. He fell for me, for my madness even though he hid it well. He'd met plenty women, beautiful in every way physically, but someone he could bare his soul would have him infinitely surrendering every inch of himself to that emotional safety. I was that, well, somehow or in a manner of speaking. I could explain his pain and tragedy perfectly from a spectators view, making it seem beautiful to be flawlessly in pieces as someone that almost lived the two concepts my whole life. 

He took me, in every way possible, like he wanted to devour the existence of where this hurt stemmed from, to fill my void. He took me, into his firm arms, he held me. Drew me closer silently breathing. You could've sworn on how many times he'd fallen into that temporary madness, from his deep breaths that suggested this man was in absolute awe of me. He tore into my eyes, as if looking for my love and why she'd hidden herself from him. It took me to a time I believed I looked nothing like I thought. When I was left to piece self back to form from the very same being that dug her into that mental grave; feeling less than, unworthy, unattractive as he'd so viciously put it. This one, without speaking, made me see it, that this could be home, but I'm too numb too detached to my normal that this shit seemed too damn good to be true. So I'd wait for me to fuck up.

He pulled my red satin single strapped dress down and it fell to my feet, as gently as a petal parts from its fullness to the ground. Left bare, he handled me like a fragile glass. kissing my lips with less speed, and overwhelming passion as he slipped slowly his hand to my back, tracing his palm up my spine to the back of my neck . I didn't tell him to do that, so what the fuck was his motive?

I loved it though, more than I knew I would, I stayed consumed by it. It was all too familiar, yet so different. Ah Yes, once upon a time I was him, trying to fix things inside someone I didn't mishandle. I let myself go. I had to understand that my ghost haunting me had moved on. Loving someone else, to the same pace I loved, perhaps even to my favorite song; now wouldn't that be a tragedy. I'd hate him for that I thought, among other things. It dawned on me, just how bitter I must have seemed to him, while being unwilling of reciprocating any love for present company. "He broke me. he stole from me, my peace, happiness, healing and Lord knows I didn't deserve it." I preached to myself silently.

I was about to make love to someone else, and that alone felt like I'd be dying multiple times in that exchange all from my thoughts. He had a grip on my damn soul and for what? As if the devil had picked me for his fixation. Now what? What do I give to this new cycle? I could've turned around and headed back to my space, but there's something here to his energy when it collides with mine. There's a calm. As clouded as I was, I knew he stood a chance, but I'd perhaps make him suffer because I have, so we understand why we need to choose each other; pain does bond people after all doesn't it?

"I can stop if you want me to. You clearly need to be held and I'll let you use me for your healing, but only if you let me in a bit," he exhaled, so intently with that devious piercing stare into my eyes.

So I kissed him back, just as assertive as the language of his body. He wanted me, all of me and my hurt. I thought to myself "he's half way there. "I could smell the wine from his body, enjoying the clashing scents of it and his seemingly never ending perfume. I began to see him, like I'd seen my last one, as the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. It made him smile, being seen, highly motivated and quite the validation that he may proceed, to do to me as he saw fit.