He came from nowhere; I know that was because I called him. From an emptied relationship I had to move away, from a fictional life I had to get realization and build myself up from the very beginning. He was so obvious, so easy, so worthless and so irresistibly nobody. But he was there in front of me, two steps lower than me to get that eye contact. I saw clearly that every woman is his, that he had never known the meaning of no, that I wouldn’t escape neither and that I probably didn’t want to escape at all. The hug of his huge arms called me in and I needed to feel the illegality, outrage, the periphery of existence, when I had no explanation for anything to anybody and I could take everything I wanted without a slight felling of remorse. Those eyes shouted that he was in burning desire just like me. I had nothing to say. He grabbed my shoulders and only said in protest that I wouldn’t do it. We talked clearly to each other, nobody equivocated. He had a family, and I had nothing to lose. He owned the body I wanted. I owned the body he wanted.
In the cold light of shining stars
Our first date, the beginning of peril, the first night of decadence burnt unforgettable memories. I can write this way; I know that he feels the same for sure. I would never have been able to imagine such a wonderfully simple, such a sense scattering intoxicant and passionately senseless intercourse. We cut in each other’s flesh with our desires; the merger of our will melted in a wonderful harmony. His whole existence came close to me, I let myself close to him, but we knew nothing about each other, moreover we didn’t want to know anything about each other. With this quiet release, we moved to a level where I hadn’t been before. There was nothing other than the unearthly delight of two bodies, a higher level of existence in which no matter what I was and no matter who he was. We were together just for us and we allowed ourselves to be captured by the everlasting lustful humility which vibrated in that room for long months. Black out.
Always and again
When he fell asleep besides me I felt the endless distance between us and in the very first moment this reality touched me. He was lying in his naked entity and I left him without thinking. I didn’t want to spend another second with him. Not then and not in any other dawn. But the passion woke up every night and he came as if I was ringing with a secret bell. We lived in each other’s body with a hypnotic and unconscious admiration. In every blessed evening I was waiting for my phone to ring and for him to come while I hated him the same way for what he did with me. But the phone always rang and I bided him dressed like the worst slut to take me apart again and to build up a sanctuary for my female existence and to admire on his knees my unrepeatable youth. I was longing for his desires though I felt he pulled me deeper and deeper and I drifted with the flow, accepted that nothingness, that simple emptiness, that soulless corporeality. We didn’t talk to each other. He didn’t want me just grabbed what excited him and did everything he could to give me what I wanted. I felt that this was not normal, but somehow it simply went. For every blessed day I decided it would be the last.
Let me go!
We truly built up a real rotting hell around us filled with infantile happiness. We hated each other, argued a lot and promised hundred times that never again. During the day. But in the evening we were overwhelmed by our crazy passion and whenever, anytime he came to take me away I never could say no to him. Never. Months passed in this unbearable living, in this constantly drunk love, in this everlasting lust. Nights inchmeal became longer and longer and those dawns found us together. Our days slowly became enlaced and we spent endless hours together while we both knew we couldn’t get rid of each other. I tried to escape, desperately, fearfully, painfully, but he did not let me go. While after a long dizzy night of love, I woke up and realize that I had absolutely nothing. He couldn’t be mine, and I didn’t need anybody else. So many times I tried without him, so many times I asked him to leave, he never did. And I was captured. There was no feeling left in me. I didn’t love him, I didn’t love myself, but I couldn’t be free.
That night was incredibly different like never before. Embrace, sanity, talk. So the first time when I realized that we unbelievably didn’t know anything about each other I also felt a calm hug surrounding me and I didn’t want anything else just to enjoy that unimaginable and endless tranquillity. Everything was so pure, silent and simple. He loved me like he had never before, he kissed me and he was longing for me as if it was the last time in his loving arms. These were the absolute, sincere hours of our never-existing love. We were honestly there for each other. In spite of the unmeasurable pain and lust that was the first and the last night when we devotedly made love. No one could take away that tenderness, the dance of our senses, the deeply carving truth of the music, the illusion of our endless and unique kisses. Real love shone around us, though I already hated him so much, but somehow everything was different. We couldn’t get enough of the beauty that surrounded us. It was a cold, a so cold early spring dawn.
Next morning, he said nothing just kissed me out on the street. Never before. His eyes were sad. Never before. He caressed my face. Never before. He didn’t mention we had to say goodbye. I knew we had to, but I didn’t need that pain. He let me go with that fear, with that uncertain grief and that day I found a tumour behind my clavicle. I recognized the beginning of something wrong and I was crumbled to dust. I broke into pieces. Nothing mattered, though I didn’t get a diagnosis then, for that matter, not for a long time. I just felt like I was lost. No worth, no feeling. The only one I wanted to love was gone, and I couldn’t find myself for a terribly long time.