I am alone now - for he has fallen in to a deep slumber - but not before asking me if I was mad at him.
Of course I am not mad at him but I am frustrated for he is there and I am here - but I will dream of him again tonight and in my dreams I will feel his touch - I will hear his voice all night talking to me. He will wake me to speak good things.
We meet in the spaces between. There is nothing that can keep us apart when we are communicating with each others soul.
I lay in some trance. I am bent while moaning and burning for him. He told me once he knew nothing of how to hypnotize me but he has hypnotized me so often and each morning after I write the most amazing things - he has hypnotized me and captured my muse in a glass jar. He feeds her so she will embrace me in gold the next morning while I write things no one could ever write. They are only words from the captured muse in the jar. They have never come to me before.
I often think he is a god and has visited from Olympia to teach me how to exist for any short period of time I have left. If I follow his ways I will exist within some sort of peace and happiness plane. I joke he is my "daddy guru" but he has become like one to me.
I am terrified one day I will find out he is gone and I am left to try to figure out how to live without him.
I fear he will leave when he finds out how unstable I am. How dependent upon him. How clingy I am. I force myself to stay away. I force myself not to call him ten times a day. I force myself to not kidnap him and bring him here.
He reads to me. He tells me stories that have come from his heart. He says the most romantic things I have ever heard. He says the sweetest things and he always tells me I am beautiful and that he loves me. He tells me every day that he loves me. He wishes the best for me. He is my counselor and my friend. He is my wild man lover.
He is perfect and he is all about perfection for me. We have so many things in common. We agree on so many things. Every time my phone chimes I hope when I look at the message that it will be from him.
I am a lovesick fool. I am like a child with my first love. I own him and he owns me and he has captured me in that jar too. I am there doing his bidding. When I am weak. I do everything - I do all he says.
When I am stronger, I feel his skin under my nails. I have carved my initials in his chest and left parts of him on my person. They are mine and he will never be able to escape my claws. I know everything about him. Nothing has been laid unbarred, yet, everyday I suck from him even more and it is all new again.
Tonight I am missing him and he has only been gone 24 minutes. I will post this to him tomorrow morning and he will see how pitiful my love is - how insanely jealous of even his sleep I have become. How I wish he would wake up and stroke my hair while I write wretched letters about how he is my dangerous and his wickedly perfect love has come to haunt me with reminders of my lacking.
I write this against a backdrop of a trellis his hands made and I think of his hands on me. I write this upon a backdrop of flowers. Some of these he had seeded in his bedroom. I think of his bedroom and how another woman had been in that bed. I am nearly broken thinking of how she has had him and in that bed - that bed that is now mine and he is mine. I do not want to think of that other woman. And even though I know he will never return to her, I am tortured thinking how she has touched him and had him in her mouth and deep inside of her.
Now he sleeps and I try if by some sort of psychic connection or magic to enter in to his mind - to enter right in to his dreams - to tell him of a bedroom I knew once. A bedroom with an old tall cherry wood bed I would have to climb in to as I am short and it was like a mountain to climb. There was one window next to the bed next to a yard of green grass and a black walnut tree. My hands would be stained dark from taking the walnuts from their skins. I would wash and wash and wash to try to get them clean. I would soak long in a claw foot tub - even then wishing for a man such as him to enter in and join with me. I would open the window and let the lace curtain blow in against the bed.
I imagine myself there now - starting all over again. Not creating any mistakes - not making any such mistakes as I have done. Being someone different, I guess. But, then I would have never met him had I not made mistakes. I was crashing in to mistake after mistake when I met him and then I met him and everything changed. I have changed.
And now I try to enter his dreams.
I am getting so sleepy myself - as if by my request I am told by the powers who be - the powers who deal in dream connections ... they are saying to me, "sleep ...to go deep ... sleep so you can be with him." So, half asleep I think I will try to join him. I just closed my eyes -- the page moved, the characters shifted. I have seen a glimpse of him coming to me. I know he will crawl right in and I will apologize for any silly thing I have done by walking my fingers all over him.
He told me once no one had touched him. I touch him. I touch him until he is sore. He told me one time I was the only woman who ever made him feel like a man. How proud I was.
Once again I am drifting as I write - there is sure to be many mistakes ... another place comes to my mind as I fall asleep...
Now I have lost it again. All these places I want to be with him ... let me touch him - I am greedy, Lord. My hands slip and my eyes are heavy once again.
Maybe life will send me - send me to him so we can touch again - so we can be in each others heart circle.
I can barely stay awake - I've fallen asleep now three times - he must be very deep in his dream - a place I can hopefully enter and come to him and come with him - to dig me in to him - to suck and soak in.
I wish I could say more about how I love to touch him and make him mine totally - I would terrify him in ways he would never imagine. There is no possible way he could ever find anyone who wants to take his love from him as I do. He would say he was freely giving it. Yes, he would say that.
I am living off the essence he releases - the way he holds his S's when he speaks - the way he mmmmmm's - the way he says 'yes, yes, yes, yes' and my name when he comes for me. When he floats and takes me with him. I exist in those spaces and I exist outside of time it seems - I exist in his dreams so I can see and feel him there - while he is sleeping.
While he is sleeping I can come to him and tickle his hips and his thighs and touch his hair and make his cock rise if by some type of command.
While he is sleeping I can want him hard - want him gentle - want him so rough I am left with scratches, deep indentations and bruises from the remembrance he was in me and on me. I want him as a feather too - I never wanted a feather - but I want him as one - I want him as everything. While he is sleeping.
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