i’ve written hundreds of emails i never sent. i’ve written poetry about how i’ve lusted after your body. i’ve written heartfelt diatribe about how i feel about you and how conflicted i am about it, even while understanding so clearly the role you have in my life. and i send you nothing. not a thing.
you don’t get to know my feelings or that i care for you. you only get to know that for all intent and purpose i simply want you as an easy fuck and nothing more. you’ll never again hold the trust of how i feel and i will forever keep it away from your eyes. i will never speak of it. there will be no sharing of dreams and listening to details of a life i will never be part of.
it doesn’t matter. you don’t matter. i have placed you under the label of ‘temporary’ and ‘easily discarded’. the fact that i am aloof about you, that i am not needy or even seemingly aware of you, drives you to me. you think about me. and you message me. our interactions a brief comment here and there, interspersed with Chronicles of sexting and physical need that in comparison, would shamefully place the Shades of Grey book as a bedtime story for toddlers.
i tempt you on purpose. i know every single one of your triggers and needs. yes, you ‘win’ every single time when it comes to a physical encounter between us as i am helpless against the physical assault of your sensuality, but no one can enter your mind like i do and make you need me as part of your life, even if just as a lusty memory you take in hand on a routine basis.
my words are more personal than my body. one, i give anonymously to the world and the other i refuse to give to you while offering up the memory of what you had, so you can flagellate yourself with the knowledge that between the two of us, you were the bigger pussy. you hurt me because i gave you more than i should have, more than i was aware of or wanted to.
when you broke my heart, i rebuilt it in the following months, placing the jagged edges unevenly together so that your hold would always cause you pain, if you ever tried to enter my life again. i’ve discovered that i enjoy watching you bleed every time you try to reach my heart and shift the balance of power between us. you can’t.
which is why you want to punish me with your body and make me submit to your will and sexual passion; because it’s the only thing you can control in the moment. it’s why you make it last as long as possible when you are with me. you don’t want the time with me to end and go back to my not caring about you. not concerning myself with your life or situation. of being able to say no to you and mean it.
you chase me because you will never have me again and having me sexually is not enough for you. you want that peace of my mind. it’s the one thing i’ll never give you again. while i may freely give you my body when i can not deny myself the temptation, you’ll never be acknowledged as inside of my heart again. you may be there, but that is for me alone to hold.
like the precious thing it is, i will carry it with me until i die. your name whispered on my lips to haunt your dreams as i call to you from the dark abyss of creation, where i will find you again and again. we are tethered. tendrils extending past this life and into the past. pieces of me are all you can touch, so i can remain my resolve to keep you at the distance i need to live in peace.