Communication between my Prince and I became more and more troubled as time went on.
I found myself wanting different things than what he could give me, and he just would never be the type of man that I truly wanted; a go-getter, fierce, & cut throat ambitious as fuck businessman.
He could dedicate all of his time and energy to working out, but wouldn't dedicate the same ferociousness to getting his life back on track.
His daily habits and lack of foresight was just not attractive to me and I lost any last shreds of respect that I once had. You can imagine how this would reflect in our relationship; not well.
The breaker for me was his inability to go to a vital business conference with me, a once in a lifetime opportunity I felt. He had to consult with his Jewish family, because he had Shabbat that day, and every Saturday for that matter, and couldn't make the imperative decision to change his life (in my view) for the better, and would rather stay at home, living with his AHEM JEWISH MOTHER.
That was the weekend that we parted, officially, pretty much forever.
We exchanged a few more PUSH AND PULL communications, him making plans with me, ignoring my calls and planning over what we had planned because I didn't answer one phone call.. just really immature actions really. We all have wounds to heal and his were coming up, so were mine, and they were nicely displayed on a clear piece of glass for us to view, scrutinize and analyze. Neither one of us had the proper tools or the willpower to heal the rift that was splitting us.
After that he cut off all communication from me which had been REALLY hard, especially when someone tells you that they love and care for you so deeply, that they will always be there for you, and then in one magic moment, POOF they are nowhere to be found, and want nothing to do with you.
I most definitely hurt his pride, but it is all a representation of me testing his supposed weaknesses, an action I regret. It doesn't do any good to test your lover; but it was my way of acting out in the relationship because in the long run I knew he wasn't right for me.
So my Prince and I would do what any young and loving couple would do that are completely head over heels for each other sexually, and can't function in the REAL WORLD; cut our losses and walk the other way.
The depression hit me hard, almost immediately; where my chest felt like I hit a brick wall going 1,000 miles an hour and now I'm left with the impact; as if love is a locomotive with a certain velocity and momentum, and suddenly it all comes to a screeching halt and you're left to pick up the debree of an unplanned stop at Heartbreak, USA.
I felt like I crashed, and I was burned, despite this being the desired outcome that we both needed.
I saw HIM, the REAL HIM, one last time; the sweet Prince, the spirit of his name forever etched inside my heart from the first time we made love. I saw him; the affectionate, endlessly loving and soft man that loved me so perfectly.
After our final decision to no longer be a unit of functional love, we met at the health food store in mid-city where we often ate. I had to see him. The aching in my chest needed some form of relief, and he was the only remedy. I met him outside, and he sat on the table while talking to my friend who we ran into at the same time. I sat down and lay my head in his lap, a sweet relief, a sip of water when I felt like i was in a dying desert of wallowing shock.
He provided last minute solace, and we eventually made our way inside and got our food.
I broke into tears as I sipped my soup when he told me he couldn't go home with me tonight. The burning desire in my soul to HAVE him one last time was so immense I could barely sit next to him. The fire of the heart was burning brighter than ever. I seem so tough until I can't have what I truly most want, after my harsh exterior has faded away, I am but an empty shell of soft hope.
My emotions were too much for him to handle in a public place so we sat in my car in the parking lot, looking into each other's eyes lovingly, him still pouring his immaculate heart into mine, while speaking the words that I didn't want to hear.
Even his breath was a seduction to me; the air that left his lips was somehow holy and infused with God's grace; his words hit every fiber of my being. I've truly never felt something this magical in a man's breath. It was too late to worship, I had forsaken him.
His hand merely brushed my lap and my loins were aflame in debilitating desire. I LITERALLY couldn't move until I had him, all of him, completely merged with him. His mouth met mine, his soul kissing my soul, his saliva like the sweetest nectar I've ever had, we lingered in this moment until we both knew our desire was so intense that we needed to move somewhere where we could be alone.
We snuck into his mother's house, knowing she wasn't home and shut the door to his room; the electricity had died off a little bit, and we undressed and rolled around in the sheets, embracing each other. But our hearts were too damaged at this point to really make love; we couldn't go there, but held each other in the last tendrils of love and care until I left.
And that was the LAST time that I ever felt his most sweet, most dear intoxicating drunken love, which completely enraptured my soul.
I will never forget his words, spoken upon every time he saw me,
"Oh Lo'ren," said in Hebrew intonation, "Oh mi Amor, Mon Cheri...oh Motek." His French rolled off his sweet tongue just as much as his Hebrew, a seduction I will not soon replace.
Weeks past with no communication, I'm guessing in order for him to truly let me go he needed a real clean break. And I also happened to tell him before Thanksgiving that if he couldn't make solid plans with me then I would make them with someone else.
Definite breaking point.
Despite the silence between us, his closed heart ushering me out the door, I cannot help but think about all of our tender moments together; how much he worshipped me, how he made love to me with his entire being. I texted him on Christmas Day, my heart shining ever so brightly with the intention of forgiveness, of bringing our differences to the Light, and I was also filled with the aching of regret that somehow I was the cause of all of this; that this was all my fault; that I hurt him and I could never go back and experience this love that was so pure and tender.
Every moment that passes without him I feel a twinge of regret in my heart. I would think of him, his eyes, and the way he would look into me, pierce me with those espresso tinted eyes, and every fiber in my heart would punish me.
"I only think of you warmly." I would tell him to see if his deadened pulse could be revived.
"I'm not sure if you're upset with me, but I sincerely apologize and hope that you can forgive me."
His last response was
"I'm not mad at you because you did nothing wrong. I have nothing to forgive you for, either. I just can't make plans with you, Sorry."
And that was that. He cant make plans with someone who likes to plan in advance, and follows through with them. Huh.. well yeah point well taken.
But somehow there is still a voice that plays like a broken record,
"I know I failed him; I failed me, I failed us."
I took a completely innocent, loving, kind and generous man into an argumentative demeanor, always on defense to my offense. I was always testing his generosity of heart, his sincerity and his breaking point.
I was seeing if and when he would take charge, how and why.
He did in some ways... Sometimes just by getting pissed at me.
Sometimes by rolling over in a childish fit because I wasn't giving him attention.
But all of these things vanished when he kissed me, when he touched me, when he was inside me. My entire body a canvas for his soul, he painted me with his heart.
I spat on his love, My God, My King.
I forsaken him.
I did not honor His Love.
The depths of His Love and commitment.
I did not strictly value Him. I placed confines and boundaries on his love,and we could not survive under these conditions.
So he cut me out, he cut me off, he cut my heart out of his, served up my portion of beating flesh on my plate and somehow now I have to eat my own medicine of rejection, fear and anger. He said no more.
And now all I can hear is the faded echo of this pulse, the withered flesh of my soul that will never be enlivened by his care and attention again.
We made love one more time, but his love had already left from me; the book of him was closed, and these are the last words I write on the Dark Prince.
I regret my last words to him.
I regret ever slaying his Name.
My King, my Prince, My Love.
I forever cherish him.
And he, doesn't even speak my Name.
