“I sat there.
In disbelief that I had so blatantly failed to ever make this connection somewhere over these tangled years. I had known then, what I now realized, but never wanted to accept.
I wanted it to be different.
I thought it could be different.
I thought we could make it work.
I had lived for years in his fantasies and his illusions. A myth of his own creation. The reality of the situation, of loving me, was something entirely different. Something he was not prepared for. Something he did not prefer to do. Emotional unavailability is a recurring theme in my life, and my love/hate of emotional torture- but that is another story, another book, another time.
He wasn’t prepared for this reality we had found ourselves in. The shock of the real-life love scenario.
My unbridled passions.
My capacity and incapacity for love.
My contradiction that I am.
The way that love’s venom takes a hold of me, through a single, small incision. Rendering me helpless in it’s cruel web. A madwoman of changing and swelling emotion.
I knew very acutely within five minutes of meeting him, that I would never truly “know” him. That only a piece of him was present with others at all times. A small slice of his consciousness.
I was OK with this.
I admired it.
I was attracted to it.
You see, when you speak with him, it is prevalent that while he is engaged in conversation with you, only a small percentage of him is actually there in that moment. He is always flying, soaring through previously unexplored transcendental terrain. He thinks in numbers, and equation. Scientific fact.
I use perception. Emotion. Patterns. Behaviors.
Going back to the first time I met him. In high school. Years ago.
I was immediately hooked, and would remain a willing, albeit struggling victim suffocating on his line for years. Trapped inside the puzzles and calculations of his brain. Lost somewhere among other countless victims of his continued neglect.
A future trophy.
Consumed and expended.
He was enigmatic.
He was brilliant.
He surpassed me on every level.
He was beautiful.
He had faraway eyes.
I knew he had the emotional and mental artillery to destroy me.
And I let it happen.
He was as much of a maze to me then, as he is now.
He was something fatal.
Some kind of gorgeous chaos.
Something I never wanted to take my eyes off of.
He stuck out to me, as a sun fighting off the darkest of nights.
A war was raging within him.
I wanted to help him fight.
I wanted to show him what he couldn’t find on his own.
I wanted to give him unconditional love.
I am still trapped today in the recesses of his brain.
It is there I will remain until some sort of exorcism occurs within me.
Or until he lets me out…”
The beginning of something I am currently working on. Needs editing and rearranging. Thought I would share something for now.
I reach long into his erupting dust-
Ignoring the final cost
Only an abrasive touch
Eroding away my best intention-
I swallowed by his harsh sun
All too much
Revealing everything I am
An absolution in the blindness of his day-
The dreadful pangs of regret,
Grow tired on my tongue
I surrender all of me to you
And run the other direction
All at once-
If there is another life after this death-
I know now, that I was meant to find you in this world and the next-
Two exhaled breaths in the shade of time-
Two lovers intertwined-
For you I spill..
I love the sound his pretenses make- as they explode on the unforgiving floor of my end-
I want to see you smeared
Scraping against my walls
So close you will fade
And I won’t ever beg you back over the edge
I would let you run-
Painting your steps with vermillion stains of felt/spent/loss-
I saw as his skin fell away
Unnamed within his ruins-
I thought it was enough
It’s never enough…
I can’t make him real-