You. Just you. That one, the one, that did exactly what you did. It hurt like hell but that’s, as they say, the way loves goes. A supposed victim of my own inner ideals and idiotic meanderings. One would think that I actually liked the twists and turns of the motion of your emotions.
I don’t, I do not. I never will. I’m a kind person, a caring person, with the upsetting aspect of all of this, being that you’re also the same. I never expected the avenue to, literally, be a dead end. When you mess with a heart it hurts, but this, this very thing, seems to have moved my actual soul.
I know that I’m being dramatic, but there’s that yang to
your inner ying that often, simply, wishes for more. A connection. A vibe. A
presence within another that bonds directly to yourself. The holding of a hand
feels right and, upon a given day, it hurts like hell to let go.
Forced, abjured, the feelings simply strewn across the floor
like the broken vase of my dreams. It’s okay, it’s to be said, done, abandoned
and moved away from. That heartbreaker. You know what you did. You knew how
this would make me feel.
You touched, you adored, you held with such force that my
feminine mind gave away my very essence. You said that you adored my scent upon
your skin. You stated that you had to have me over and over again yet, upon
this very second, you’re nowhere to be seen. Another conquest, another moment,
a further wounding glance designed to inflate your never-ending desire to be
adored.
It’s all so clear. I could never fall for someone that
actually, truly, really cared. The faults and infatuations being all so very
clear. I’m broken, with the never-ending loop of trying to mend, yet seemingly
doomed to repeat the same, tired, repeating process add infinium. I know that you thought that you cared for me
and, upon a certain level, you did. You just had to have what you wanted and
what you wanted, was me.
You did things, said things, explored places that the normal
type of man wouldn’t even think of. It’s exhausting, it’s deflating, knowing
that you’ll soon move onto your next target of awe. Your dark eyes, the way you
move simply turns me on to my very core. I ache for you, desire you. Dream of
you. But that’s not enough and nothing ever will be.
I’m sat here, thinking, wondering, trying to escape the
situation I’ve found myself within. If it was just sex, then you could have
just asked. I know that ‘that’ isn’t the way it works, but right now, with what
I know, I’d have happily have let you explore every inch of me with my lips
knowing exactly what they were to be used for. You broke a piece of me, broke
me in half and opened my very body to something new. Then, once you’d had your
desired, erotically induced fantasies played out, you left.
I would feel used but, instead, I’m just sat here wanting
you all over my body. It’s evaporating my very sense until I don’t know who I
am anymore. I’m spiralling, out of control, gasping for your air to free me. I
know that you’ll be back, as you’re addicted to flesh. You’re embraced by the
very notion of control. You need to be adored by everyone and everything.
I’m going to try and forget you. Everything about you, as
you’re just not worth my time. It’s done. Over. Gone and far away. Yet, you’re
still here, inside me, lips kissing my neck and arms holding me in place. I
just cannot seem to escape what you’ve done to my living memories. I hate you,
but I love you, as you’d freed and chained me at the same time. I want to
scream, I want to moan, I want you. I need you. You’re just that heartbreaker I
was warned about.
