The Last Chapter With the Dark Prince

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. 

A Burning Flame of Endless Devotion... Esteban Continued After 18 months Apart.

Mexico

Thursday

I exit the airplane and go through a hot, sweaty, and slow customs line at the airport in Cancun. All I can think about is that my love is on the other side of the gate waiting for me, probably for hours. That is Esteban’s style; he would do anything for his woman and he would never be late.

Finally I get through all of prerequisites of entering another country and go outside with my two large pink suitcases and a stuffed backpack to find my Costa Rican boyfriend whom I haven’t seen in 18 months, waiting for me with a smiling face. We hug, but do not kiss. I found that odd, but I’m rolling with the energy that is present between us after so much time apart. The last time we said good-bye to each other was in Costa Rica in September of 2011, with tears in our eyes and a bond in our hearts.

He makes fun of me as to why I have so many “packets” as he told me only to bring one. Somehow packing I knew I didn‘t need all of these clothes, but I haven’t learned how to make decisions on what not to bring yet when I’m traveling, so I take everything with me.

We wait outside of the Cancun airport together and decide whether or not to head to the festival, which is another three hours of travel and we don’t have a room to stay in once we arrive there. So we opt to take a bus into Cancun proper and stay in a hotel there. We check into a mid grade hotel, which is scarcely dressed with shitty walls, shitty beds and barely any hot water for a shower. Last time we met up in Costa Rica we had uncontrollable chemistry for each other, and almost devoured each other once we were alone. The chemistry seemed to have left us, and we tried to have sex anyways, perhaps out of obligation for one another. It felt dry and empty.  We are grinding against each other and the only heat we feel from one another is from the friction. He doesn’t come, as he holds in his orgasmic energy with me for as long as possible. We burst through some energy with one another, as we feel relaxed and blissful, but somehow I am not feeling the love from the heart between us. I’m worried about what this means for us, if our love is over, if I need to separate from him and travel alone. WE both have planes that leave from Cancun on January 5^th, so that gives us 17 more days together feeling this way? I don’t know what to do but to pray for a solution between us.

Saturday

Esteban sets up the tent and makes a nice spot for me to sleep. He always treats me well despite what is going on around us.

We go out and dance at the big festival that was going on in Chichen Itza for the “World’s End”, also called Synthesis on Saturday night together, and ingest some magic chocolates from my friend. They hit us strong and deep and act as a truth serum between us. After an hour or two, I become distant, knowing that I can no longer make love to this man and maybe I have to depart Mexico early because I don’t think I can travel with him when my heart is no longer invested in him. He pulls me aside,

“Can I talk to you?”

“Yes”, I reply, feeling as though I am in trouble now.

He tells me how he is feeling, that he can sense my distance, that I am cold towards him, that he feels stupid sometimes when he speaks with me because our conversations are boring because of the language barriers. We can’t always express complex ideas, and are somewhat limited in what we say to one another. But one thing I’ve always appreciated about our connection is what he says without words. He shows his love and devotion through his endless service to his Queen. He would do anything to please me, even disappear from my existence if that’s what pleases me.

We talk for a long time and he gets a chance to express his feelings. He thinks there is something he can “do” to repair my feelings for him. But a feeling is a feeling and you have it because you have it, it cannot be manufactured I explain to him. I tell him I’m not in love with him anymore, that the chemistry is gone, that my heart is confused (see previous stories) and that I am still processing a break-up. In this moment I am breaking his heart and he doesn’t understand where my words are coming from, or how to repair our bond. For now it is broken. We separate ways for the rest of the night, I leave him shivering in the cold with my blanket, stunned and confused and high.

I go on with my night, feeling nothing, and puzzled why I can’t feel when my last partnership made me feel so much. This numbness does not make sense to me.

Esteban finds me in the party at sunrise and we take a taxi back to our hotel. Instead of pushing me away, he pulls me closer to his heart. He finds me a nice bed instead of making me camp on the ground with him. He tucks me into a massage table, makes my bed for me, tucks me in and brings me water and hot tea. This is the man I fell in love with; so attentive, so giving, so loving. I fall asleep warm and content, peaceful and with a chord attached to his heart. He won me over with his endless service and maybe this is how he is going to win me back.

I party all the next night without him, exploring my options, playing the field. I meet another tall, built man by the name of Lincoln who takes me under his wing for the evening. At first glance I am unimpressed by his advances, as he is silly and awkward at first. But genuine presence goes a long way with me and we play throughout the night, eventually cuddling up together in the peaceful campgrounds of the Synthesis festival, on the Earth in his tiny tent barely large enough to fit his body, and we sink into the rhythms of the earth together. I express to him that I don’t want to be sexual, as my body was in a deep meditation and was taking so much pleasure in complete stillness. Then our Shakti began to merge as he put his hand on my heart and pushed his energy into me. We began a beautiful spiral dance….this is how to open me; first energetically, then I am more bound to open with you physically.

Hours pass by in our snuggle, and I begin to like this new bond. Eventually we make our way back into town together, and I find Esteban sitting peacefully in front of the hotel in a white tea shirt, which accentuates his gorgeous dark skin and mysterious eyes, and he’s listening to his headphones. His eyes surrender to mine, they are slightly sad and empty, and I try to cheer him up with my love. I sit on top of him and I don’t move until we have resolution. He tells me that in order to make me happy that he should leave tomorrow. He would sacrifice anything for my happiness, and the thought of him leaving so soon, of our partnership ending now, maybe forever, put tears in my eyes. Perhaps he understood my woes. After a few moments of crying and hugging, we walk back to our tent. Each step we take I start to cry more, my emotions intensify, and I yearn for his heart to open mine. Perhaps this is when I finally broke back open to him. He climbs in the tent, and his eyes invite me inside, and I dive in on top of him. We cannot hold each other close enough, rolling around in our tears, our love, our passion. Something happens, and our emotion overcomes us and our bodies begin to intertwine and fill with love again. He kisses me, with passion this time, with full presence, like it really mattered, and his cock began to fill with blood and press against my flesh. His mouth finds my tender and yearning nipples and bites and licks them like a fresh strawberry. I want him. And he wants me, but our bodies are so dirty from partying all night. I want him in the shower, like how we used to do in Costa Rica together. We always had the most passionate sex in the shower together. I tell him to come wash my sinful skin with his heavenly hands, like he did on the first day we met, after our first swim in the ocean together. He follows me to the camp showers, we close the door, and he just watches me for a while with his throbbing cock. I invite him in closer and he presses firmly into me. After playing around at the thought of entering me, he charges through, and fills me with his invisible nectar. The feeling is unexplainable. It’s difficult to remember how certain lovers feel. And him and I have a certain fire, a certain burning, yet dripping flame for one another when we make love. He gives is to me long and hard, deep and strong, I’m silently screaming, my face pushed against the tile of the shower, for I cannot let out a real scream for the entire camping area to hear. He brings himself to the edge several times, and holds  it in every time, sealing his nectar for the next round of lovemaking.

Our love has been restored, he was able to find that sweet tender place in his heart where his desire is to endlessly serve me. This sweetness and self-sacrifice warmed me so that I opened back into him, and let his throbbing heat penetrate me to the core of my desire. For now we are lovers, back in paradise, in the warm winds of Mexico!