неделя, октомври 17, 2010

Dreaming for my men again

I am alone in my bed and thinking... I have the time of the world in my hands and here I have no friends so I can't share my personal doubts. Am I no one in a far away land? 

So I lay in my bed, looking through the glass and daydream. The ghosts of "my men" are here. The only ones who always listen. Always hungry for everything that is me. My words, my songs, my wants, my needs, my depressions, my love, my sexual appeal, my unforgiving look, my smile, my tears, my joy, my cry, my everlasting self-indulgence in the inner pain of the individual that I am.

Here he stands. He sends me kisses as always. He never misses a single day to ask me how everything is going. He was and is my helping hand, he works hard to see me satisfied. He stays awake through many nights so I can sleep calmly in my bed. Writing these lines makes tears to show up in my eyes... Indeed he is the first man in my life and I joke that I am his first woman. He made me what I am, his absence,his joy, his cold green eyes. From him I took my way of talking, my secrets, my confidence, my all...

I love to touch him and he lets me do it although he hates. I tend to go to his bed and sleep with him when I am distressed. I see him as something earthy and true. Someone who knows what is the real world and wants to protect me. In my darkest moments he just stays pointlessly with me... he never leaves my side when I need help and he does understand me without a single spoken word.

One dear friend of mine who wants to clone me by the way said that I must not count the days because time is very tricky thing, a selfish one who loves to disturb people's life. I definitely agree with him. He also said that I am the sweetest girl he knows in the whole universe and he is really sorry that I am taken at this very moment. Gotta love this boy. He also send me Led Zeppelin song. Gotta love him indeed.

And then here comes the man who ripped my heart and tore me open, who lied, who didn't cherish my life, who didn't really want me, who made me weaker and who used me. The man because of which my life was living hell for seven months and because of which I made so stupid things. I wish you no harm. Just pointless existence. I would tear him apart. But there is no use of that.

Three moments later other face crossed my mind. I met him on one strange location and I left him wondering if we would see each other again. I was attracted. May be he was too. I would never know. I never asked, he never told me. When we walked with no direction just to be together I was the most happiest girl in the world. And so miserable a few moments later. I look him and there are the most stunning green eyes with some naughty sparks in there. He always wants to see my smile, he cherish my tears and hugs me dearly when we are together. He seeks the beauty in the world and is chosen positivist. He had lost so much so early in his life that I have cried for him. He reminds me of something free and I love his body that irradiates heat. I love to sit on some bench with him in my hands or his head over my shoulder. And still...

These are my thoughts... a romantic display that he doesn't like. A romantic display which make me tremble and cry. This is me. In a very sensual way. A real inner inside. The other side of the coin. 

Here I am. Alone and with my eyes closed but I can see him so clearly. Apart of the sexual tension between us, apart of that animal need and want which drives us one into another and is the reason to meet each other... apart of that stays the inner want to be with him. There is nothing so special about it. I just feel that anything is less important, colourless, greyish and meaningless when he is not around. It is not love, nor pure lust. It is like finding the half of your soul in a form that makes you happy. Edit: Actually it is love and pure lust. I had the time to rethink this sentence. Love indeed. And lust definitely. Combined with the notion of being happy...
I who stay alone and cry in my dark chambers, I who need a stronger dominating person to control me and then again I who struggle...
I write letters and then I tear them up because I think that they are useless. Is there something that he doesn't know about me which I would share anyway? Is there a way to let him see through me for at least a second? Why I write here after all? It is been a while since I cried my soul away. And he hates my tears. He hates to see me bleeding even he doesn't really knows why. Even I don't know why. 
I long to trace the line of his spine. To pass my fingertips over the dimples of his backbone. To caress his sensitive skin with my breath and make him shiver. I want to see the goosebumps on his pecks, pass my tongue in the small space between his clavicles and moist the skin there and then tilt my head back and let him kiss me. If he wants... Then I will go down on my knees but never losing visual contact... 
Sometimes I want just to explore him. Better. The learn every pore of his being if he lets me do it. I would stay awake and watch him how he sleeps, I would breath and inhale his essence. As I did at our first meeting... For a moment I would put aside the animal thing and get myself on higher personal lever. Or try it. It is not the urge to reveal his secrets or to expose him, I could never do that anyway. As NIN sing in "Closer": Help me tear down my reason  Help me; it's your sex I can smell  Help me; you make me perfect  Help me become somebody else ...

I love to shut my mind to all and remember partial moments of my life. And to be honest I don't really have any memories from my late years. I tend to forget them on purpose. I just erase them. 
But now the only way to fall asleep is to remember. Again and again. And yes. The pain leaves traces. Even the good one...

2 коментара:

  1. Най-красивият ти текст до сега! За пръв път цъквам и на "sad", "interesting", "made me smile"! ^^
    You're so difficult not to be loved! <3 :-* I wish I could be even one percent like you... But it's not to be! My destiny is pretty different.

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