Sometimes I sit quietly and watch my memories and dreams, my past and future dance together. I haven't had the best past possible, a little laughter and joy here and there, and countless bad memories. I try not to think about them though. Sometimes I wonder about my dreams, those that I play with and torture myself with, secret fantasies I dare not wish aloud, that I would not really want to materialize. And now a pale melancholy seeps into my heart and I feel lonely. I wonder what I'm getting myself into, then I decide that it's okay and I'll just stop struggling and looking back. I'll see where the current takes me to wash away, to feel powers stronger than my conscience and doubts sweep me where they want me to be because it's good to let go sometimes.
Your absence lingers around me like a glittering presence. Your unreal caresses are more distracting than their actual touches. I dream in a state of consciousness, a desire to remain asleep because it was simpler then. I fear that you will be like a vortex sucking me in deeper and deeper and then you'll let go of your frail grip around my wrists letting me fall into a black hole where I will have nothing of you but fading, paining dreams. I fear that I will lose everything as I gaze into your eyes because you have become foreign to me and yet so addictive.
Then the mere thought that you could possibly desire me to be yours is such a frighteningly beautiful fantasy that I dare not let it seep into my heart completely for it will overwhelm me. It will paint every corner of my soul with such vibrant shimmering colors that if then they are taken away again, I'll be blind forever. So instead I touch tiny pieces of my dream, play around with faint fantasies and wonder how long will it be till I can satiate myself with just portions of images that I want so much as wholes in my being.
Sometimes I want to carve little black 'fuck you's all over your body, scratch eternal scars on your skin and tell you that I wasn't a puppet. You were not supposed to make me dance whenever you wanted to and then just cut off my strings and let me lie helpless on an abandoned stage.
But...but...I am a puppet and you do have my strings in your fists. You...you, the unstable, noncommittal, shadowy princess of words and virtual caresses.
- The Lover @ Soul Intoxicated