Return to the Temple, I become Ash in Flame

I'm standing where he held me so tight... all of me was encompassed in all of him. As my body approached the Temple of Our Love- where we had gone to gaze at the moon and take refuge from the city life, all of the cells in my body came alive with the memory of him.

I recalled his body pressed into mine, our hearts fused together, his entire spirit melded with the buoyancy of my breath, our faces smiling at our eternal love. We had overcame so much but the last obstacle was yet to come. The last hill was a hill I had to climb without the entrapments of our past. All concepts of love must dissolve, all of our constructed thoughts and judgements were dilapidated frameworks with faulty foundations that we could not see a way out of.  

I lit aflame to ALL of it; our past story, our entangled heartstrings, our hurt, our shame and anger, the rage that burned scars onto our hearts, the betrayal of words and actions. Every time the doors shut in fear, our house became empty frames drained of flesh's compassion. 

The creeks in the hallways whispered nightmares when I lay my foot upon the wood, they would tell me of the greatest terror I could imagine; that I would be left behind. But it wasn't a dream; he really had to break the shackles of our engagement, our commitments, everything we thought we had must burn away, for us to find the one jewel that cannot be destroyed; the everlasting love in our hearts. 

I became naked in the fire, stripped of my identity with him; I could no longer lean or depend on hope. Every time I placed my hands on the walls, they crumbled beneath my touch. My flesh would cook on the stove, but when the water all boiled out I was left singed and damaged by his words of rage. 

I, like a wild animal just needed to break free. 

I must let every last sinew of my psyche's traumatic past become the ash of a ghost that died long ago. There must be things left in the there, forever; we must allow the falsehood of our pain dissolve into a meaningless pile of debris.  Our life journey together became unhinged, truth blew through the rafters, cleansing the grime of our grievances.  The doorways flying free and open, I must witness this destruction to the marrow of our love; I want to see the bones disintegrate, and discover what is left. 

I found, once all of the constructs of our love were devoured by illusions’s flames, we finally saw each other's eyes untainted with the ghosts that used to rule over us.  

But fresh air's graces were not enough to pierce my soul. I lit a match to spark the last fire; our hearts had to burn away all impurities. 

My heart was not done throwing daggers, for he was not welcome in my territory any longer, and I was not welcome in his. Our words to our trusted confidants tainted each other so much that neither of our wifeys supported our coming back together, the re-merging of our true bonds of friendship. I resented him for making me the enemy to his beloved; I resented him plotting us against each other. I had to make him feel the pain of what it was not not be welcome somewhere. 

So he stepped on my territory in which I had placed mines, and he was ripped open by the force of the blast, his eyes seared terror and disgust into me. Like "Really? Really?! You're not done fighting yet?!"

 I threw in my white flag now that I saw war is a futile force of endless brutality- yet somehow I felt even and justified in my offense. Yet I had to clean up the mess of my woe, wipe the blood up from the floor, on my hands and knees in shame and disgust that I, a peaceful lover needed to see him bleed one last time before I could build a new foundation of trust with him. 

My tongue found the wounds and licked them, my gentle touch grazed the back of his heart in comfort like a mother solacing her child. We had often felt like each other's children- I his mother, he my father, and allowed each other to be comforted by this parental force. Despite his disgust he let me soothe his pain- one last time. 

One last time-words that echoed in my ears because we made promises to each other that neither could keep. We had broken too many ideals of love to have any more weight in promises. 

When we stopped feeding coal to the  steam engine to our egos, all we had was the incombustible power of love. Every attempt at suicide and murder had failed; I lit a match and I burned it to the ground, and every time we met one another in a place which only magnified our truth; God had shown us that we cannot destroy the only thing that is real. 

'Pick up your blown away body parts and piece them together' he said, because the only way to sutra the wounds is to allow each other to love again. He, my villain and my doctor, I sunk back into the comfort of his arms, dissolved into the truth of what we built our life on, and grace's light poured into our vessels like an endless fountain from the heaven's. Angels rejoiced, for when we are enemies, the entire natural world is thrown out of balance. If we could not find love in each other, it would be like if the moon was at war with the sun; if the tides could no longer flow, if gravity was reversed,  chaos would ensue upon humanity. No, my Solar lord must shine his light onto my Lunar skin; it is a primordial law that not even the most powerful Gods can change. 

I had to infuse my entire heart and soul with the unity of the Self- of no other. While we orbit around each other, while I still feel the halo of his soul over seeing mine, encompassing mine, being the King and the guiding light in my life.... I have to feel equally how I am my own Sun. I am my own source of love and fire. I cannot lean on him to heal and soothe my most tender parts no matter how amazing he is at that, at comforting and soothing me. I am learning to love me, hug myself ... love myself ... every part... so I can never cry out again

"Why don't you love me ?!" Because there will never be a time that I do not love myself. I am the LoveAngel ... loveable love and beloved in myself, Whole and complete. 

I know that pain will surface again, I know that the complexities of humanity are not done challenging us; yet we are now ready to meet those challenges with much more compassion, like listening to a small child cry who lost her way. Let’s hold that crying child closer to our hearts; for the yelling and screaming only bruised each other’s hearts to the point where I could no longer expose myself to the emotional trauma. 

My Grey; A Tale of Sensual Submission

My Grey. 

He came into my life, just as my sex drive was beginning to re-awaken. Dry spells happen, and it had felt like my pussy was frozen over with the winter months, and I lost sensitivity and feeling. I hadn't been deeply touched by a man (as opposed to a boy) in what felt like months (a week can feel like a month for me), and just as a super sex crazed goddess was beginning to doubt man-kind, My Grey delivered me deep soul-satisfaction. I didn't know how much I needed the deep comfort of a man; even if it was temporary. 

He didn't ask permission, we didn't make pre-planned agreements about boundaries or limits, or tell past stories about love and lust. He simply walked in my door, and through desire, claimed me. An unsuspecting stranger, and came waltzing into my life, unannounced, uninvited, and certainly didn't play by other people's rules. There are some encounters where you skip over the shallow end, and dive head first for the deepest waters. 

"So you're a Domme," he asks over the phone, incomplete in his statement, for he has already seen into my true nature of wanting to be submissive. "But you're really just a sweet little girl wanting to give yourself over to a strong man," he says in a steady and firm voice with a steamy Aussie accent,  but with so much passion and fullness behind his stern exterior. He warms me immediately, which is I also find to be deeply threatening.  

"Yes I like to be more submissive in my personal life." I say with a light heart, not realizing he would be emotionally and sexually ruling over me the next day. 

A few missed emails here and there, but we finally meet on a cold afternoon in DC. I've only seen pictures of him from the face down on a kinky online dating site... so I wasn't sure what to expect from my New Grey. I'm comforted by his his classy demeanor which comes off more British then Aussie. 

He leads on that he's been thinking of me ... Profusely... And can't get me out of his mind... The muse has stricken him.

We arrange a loose time to meet, and he gets buzzed up to my door, and walks in as if he owns the place. He's dressed in a nice preppy blue suit and graphic red tie, a pinstriped shirt and a blue scarf, tied tightly around his neck, making him appear taller than he really is. 

This is what my Grey did to me; pierced me with his slate blue eyes, erect stance, undyingly seductive scent from his neck... and his heart was mine from the first embrace

My lights have gone out in half the apartment while I was using the blow dryer, and I needed a man to locate the fuse box... he scans the entire apartment and we can't find it, until we recline on the couch, and it pops off the wall and the fuse box catches my eye. He doesn't allow me to have to have the pleasure of fixing the problem; he needs to be the man and do it himself.

Now we can relax... then.. we touch ...

I am completely over-taken by the power in my Grey's embrace. The smell from his collar floats into soul... My heart is helpless against his valor and strength. I'm butter in is hands, and I recline on the bed. him on top of me, still in his suit, and he never gets completely naked.  

He is now the seducer, not I, and morality and boundaries go out the window ... For me. 

"I'm not going to have sex with you." I say, jokingly, trying to uphold my original intention of meeting him. 

"I'm not going to have sex with YOU," he replies sharply back with serious cold blue eyes. Shit my head is under water and he's the only source of oxygen. 

He presses his lips against mine, his saliva intentionally dripping into my mouth... And I become wild at the purity of it; it's like morning honey dew. 

He presses me onto the bed, his hands firm but never too hard... And he starts to go for my pussy. 

I'm doomed at this point, my juices running over, his force growing stronger ... I have trained myself to feel more pleasure with my eyes closed. He forces them open; I cannot enjoy the moment purely for my own pleasure. Grey's fingers are fucking me so he can see the look in my eyes as I come. 

"Look at me," Grey demands, and I am scared not too. 

I forget his request, the pressure building inside of me, deeply, him pressing into my pussy, I close my eyes again.

"LOOK at me," stating again his wishes for eye contact. 

He drives me wild, but I want to feel his cock against me, against my bare skin, in any which way I can, even though he's not fucking me. Dammit. 

My naked Ass in the air, and he still has his suit on. 

He pounds my wet kitty with his hands, I'm making sounds as if he's fucking me ... He gets me until I turn over, face up again even more vulnerable to his masculine power, he leans in,

"You are intoxicating," he leans up and whispers into my ear, driving the hot knife even deeper into me. 

His cock is now taking the stage; it's popping out of his pants, rock hard, bulging with desire for me. 

"Who did that to me?" he asks in his intimidating voice, piercing my eyes again.  

"I did," I say in a soft voice, him still penetrating me with his hands. 

"Who did that to me?" he demands a better answer.  

"I did," my voice can't help but quiver

"Say it with confidence"

"I did?"

"Who did that to me?" 

"You're little girl did." 

He likes that answer better and says I am his favorite little girl ... 

We're both working my juices this time, making sure no part of my internal system is untouched. 

"Come for Daddy. Daddy wants you to come," he says sternly again, demanding my orgasm for him. We work it up slowly, then more quickly.... until I completely release, staring into Grey's eyes, pushing my pleasure into him, I know he's feeling it too. 

He stands up after this, his cock inches away from my face, and touches himself. This drives me absolutely wild, for he doesn't let me suck it, he doesn't' allow me to taste his come, and he doesn't allow me to sit on it either. I am denied cock rights. I've never met a man with such self-control, but it also makes me think he's hiding something. 

He keeps stroking his cock, and he is so built up from our encounter, that he quickly squirts all over me, my face, and belly and all over the bed. 

He comes in for a cuddle before he says good-bye, and drives his domineering presence even deeper into me. 

His mouth is right by my ear, his words aren't processed through my brain, they are first felt in my heart, and then tell my head what to think. They drip out of him like warm golden honey, hitting every fiber of my being, playing me like a delicate violin, staking his territory.  

"Tomorrow you are to lay in bed, and forget the way my lips feel on yours." My heart sinks.. I don't want to forget. But this is precisely why he is saying it. 

"You are to not remember the way my two fingers feel in your pussy, or the wetness of my come," his eyes burning into me, 

He's burning straight into my retinas, not allowing any other thought in my body. Driving the memorable impression deeper, I quiver underneath him, he pierces me so deep into me I want to cry. 

Despite his request to forget, I can do nothing but remember. 

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!

MAY THE WAVES TAKE THE LAST EXHALE

AS I LAY MY HEAD DOWN TO REST LAST NIGHT, AFTER A WEEK-LONG BATTLE WITH A BRONCHIAL INFECTION, UNABLE TO REALLY BREATHE OR RELAX, MY HEAD IN FEVERISH CONFUSED CLOUDS….

I FINALLY TOOK A DEEP BREATH, I INHALED FULLY,

AND AS I EXHALED, I AFFIRMED TO MYSELF THAT

“MY MAN IS OUT THERE AND IT IS NOT HIM.”

YOU KNOW THE “HIM”, THE ONE I HAD A PERFECT LOVE STORY WITH, THE HIM THAT BROKE ME IN WAYS I DIDN’T KNOW I COULD BE BROKEN.

I HAVE FINALLY REALIZED THAT HE IS FAR MORE BROKEN THAN ME, AND HE HAS NO CAPABILITY TO NOT BREAK EVERYTHING HE COMES INTO CONTACT WITH.

WE’VE BEEN IN CONTACT, MOSTLY BECAUSE HE HAD THE DESIRE TO GO TO A FESTIVAL TOGETHER, SO I GOT HIM A TICKET, THINKING OH, WE ARE GOING TO HAVE THIS FUN WEEKEND TOGETHER. WELL HE STARTED TO PULL OUT THE DAY BEFORE THE FESTIVAL, AND I SOLD HIS TICKET, BECAUSE I CAN’T STAND HIS WISHY WASHY BULLSHIT. HE COULD FIND TIME TO CALL ME EVERY DAY LEADING UP TO THE FESTIVAL, AND SINCE THEN I’VE GOTTEN NOTHING BUT; SILENCE;

HE WILL SPEAK TO ME WHEN HE WANTS SOMETHING FROM ME, AND IGNORE ME WHEN HE DOESN’T.

SOMEHOW WE ARE STILL KARMICALLY TIED TOGETHER, FOR AFTER A WEEK OF IGNORING EACH OTHER, WE ALMOST LITERALLY WALK INTO ONE ANOTHER AT A CAFÉ IN MALIBU; 45 MIN AWAY FROM MY HOUSE, AN HOUR AT LEAST AWAY FROM HIS, AND I AM WALKING OUTSIDE OF THE CAFÉ DOOR AS HE IS WALKING IN; OUR EYES MEET IN AN AWKWARD HELLO, AND AS USUAL, HE’S STAND-OFFISH, BUT CORDIAL. I HUG HIM NONETHELESS BECAUSE NO MATTER HOW MUCH OF AN ASSHOLE HE IS I KNOW HE STILL NEEDS LOVE; YELLING AT HIM IS GOING TO ACCOMPLISH NOTHING.

HE GRABS HIS COFFEE, WE SIT DOWN TO TALK, SMALL TALK. I SAY NOTHING ABOUT HOW MUCH HIS ACTIONS ARE TOTAL BULLSHIT; BUT IVE KNOWN THIS FOR THE LAST YEAR; HIS CHARMS ARE WEARING THIN, HIS FACE IS GETTING HARDENED, HIS SKIN EVEN WHITER THAN I REMEMBER, HIS SMILE ALMOST COMPLETELY ERASED.

HE HAD JUST COME FROM SURFING, FOR HOURS IN THE COLD WATER ON THIS OVERCAST JULY DAY IN CALIFORNIA; MY BUNNY, JUST A SHELL OF HIS PAST SELF THAT I WAS SO IN LOVE WITH.

HE MAKES SLY COMMENTS, SLIGHTLY PUTTING ME DOWN IN ORDER TO MAKE HIMSELF FEEL BETTER; HE HAS BEEN COMPLETLEY UNSUCCESSFUL AT BREAKING INTO HOLLYWOOD, SIGNING CONTRACTS WITH STUDIOS, AND THEM NOT GIVING HIM PROPER FUNDING TO FILM THE MOVIE, SO NOW HE OWES INVESTORS MILLIONS OF DOLLARS FROM A FILM THAT WAS NEVER EVEN MADE. HIS HEELS HAVE DIGGED DEEP INTO DEBT, HIS ONCE HOPEFUL FACE THAT I MET ON THAT FATEFUL DAY IN JUNE, HIS COCKY STANCE THAT SO SEDUCTLY DRAWS YOU NEAR IS GONE; HE IS A CYNCICLE COLD SHELL IMPRESSION OF HIMSELF.

HE’S TRULY APOLOGIZED TO ME ONCE; FOR ALL THE BULLSHIT HE PUT ME THROUGH; FOR NOT BEING THE MAN THAT HE THOUGHT HE COULD BE; FOR LEADING ME THROUGH AN ENDLESS LABRYNTH OF EMPTY PROMISSES; OF HOPEFUL LOVE THAT MAYBE ONE DAY PULL THROUGH.

ALL OF THAT HOPE HAS FADED, AND NOW ALL WE HAVE LEFT IS THIS EMPTY CONVERSATION; I TELL HIM ABOUT MY EXPERIENCE AT LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE; HE HAS SELECTIVE LISTENING, ALWAYS LOOKING FOR A WAY TO JUDGE, TO PICK APART, TO INVALIDATE MY EXPERIENCE, MY MAGICK, MY MAJESTY. I AM A QUEEN, AND IF HE WAS ONCE MY KING, HE HAS FALLEN FROM GRACE.

YES I LOVE HIM UNCONDITIONALLY, AND I HAVE TOLD HIM SO; THAT I WILL LOVE HIM ON HIS GRUMPY ASS DEATH BED, STILL WISH HIM BEAUTY, COMPASSSION AND GRACE, TO NO RESPONSE. NOT EVEN A “THANK YOU HAHA,” THANK YOU FOR LOVING ME DESPITE THE FACT THAT I HAVE TREATED YOU LIKE COMPLETE SHIT, DISREGUARDED YOUR DESIRE TO HELP ME IN ANY WAY, AND I’LL CALL YOU THE NEXT TIME I NEED SOMETHING FROM YOU, OTHERWISE I WILL JUST IGNORE YOUR VERY EXISTANCE.

THROUGHOUT ALL OF THIS TIME TOGETHER, HE KEPT ME AROUND TO BE HIS FRIEND. I CAN’T EVEN BE THAT ANYMORE. FRIENDS HAVE THE DECENY TO ASK, EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE, “IS THERE ANYTHING THAT I CAN DO FOR YOU?’ THEY EXTEND THEIR CONSCIENCE, JUST FOR A MOMENT OUTSIDE OF THEMSELVES, AND THINK OF OTHERS. HE SEEMS COMPLETELY INCAPABLE OF THINKING OUTSIDE OF HIS IMMEDIATE GRATIFICATION; NOT ONCE HAS HE REACHED OUT AND EXTENDED HIS GENEROSITY TO SEE HOW HE COULD HELP ME.

AND THROUGHOUT ALL OF THIS TIME, I HAVE NOT CHOSEN TO CLOSE MY HEART, BUT TO OPEN IT TO THE UNIVERSE, TO EXTEND MYSELF TO GENEROSITY, TO NOT HATE, BUT CONTINUE TO LOVE. MAYBE THIS WAS NEVER LOVE TO BEGIN WITH, MAYBE IT WAS ALL JUST SOME PRETENSE OF LOVE, OF MANIPULATING THE SITUATION ALWAYS TO HIS FAVOR, AND WHEN HE HAS NO USE FOR ME ANYMORE, HE CAN SO EASILY DISPOSE OF WHAT HE ONCE CARED ABOUT, WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A GOOD-BYE.

I TOOK A DEEP BREATH LAST NIGHT, AND AS I EXHALED, I SAID TO MYSELF,

“MY MAN IS OUT THERE FOR ME, AND IT IS NOT HIM.”

MY ENTIRE BODY RELAXED, I AM AT PEACE WITH IT ALL; AND ALTHOGUH MY HIGHEST DESIRE IS FOR LOVE; IT IS FOR THE REAL LOVE; WHERE THE MAN IS WILLING TO EXTEND BEYOND HIMSELF, TO BECOME A BETTER MAN FOR HIS WOMAN, TO GROWN IN COURAGE AND IN STRENGTH, THAT HE WOULD GO TO ALL LENGTHS OF THE GLOBE FOR HIS LOVE; I AM WORTHY OF THAT MAN, AND ALTHOUGH HE MAY NOT WALK INTO MY LIFE TOMORROW, I WILL NOT SETTLE FOR ANYTHING LESS THAN THAT MAN.