“The moon….”
Cold night in November…
I was chasing away the kinda sadness that only finds you when the sun goes down.. when you’re alone with the darkness… and there he was, right in my line of vision…. Cowboy boots, plaid button up, jeans that offered just the right amount of pressure. The perfect distraction… an emotionally unavailable fuck boy, more broken than he’d ever admit to. Hiding behind his humor.
Loud music, dim lighting, a bar filled with lonely people numbing the silence and waterboarding the pain.
It was cold outside; but the liquor had kept me warm all day. Hidden in plain sight.
Beautiful melodies playing sad songs hung in the space between our bodies. Music connected the otherwise disconnected people. Looks had been exchanged all night for more than one night.
The chemistry between us was tangible.. palpable. I felt it and it turns out so did he... or so he says.
I found myself forgetting how to breathe… The magnets that connected us sucked the air right out of me.
Time stood.
For a moment I forgot that I am not a person that believes in those types of things… that stuff isn’t real.
Finding someone with demons that dance beautifully with mine. A dark love.
One where lust and light can coexist. One where damage and danger pump adrenaline through my veins and keep me warm. One where my appetite for the raw is satiated and the space from between my thighs to the walls surrounding my heart are connected.
One where he desires to study my mind, inhale my soul, dive into my eyes and memorize every freckle on my cheeks. Dance with my wild and don’t try to tame me.
I have been blessed to watch a man love my sister until cancer took her last breath. You know, that shave my head and hold all my ugly kinda love.
Room 419. That quiet Holiday Inn. Damnit to hell, coach.
His body and mine… rhythm. Each and every time. When he leaves, I’m left speechless. The way his hips move into me exactly how I want them to exactly when I want them to, it’s like I’m moving him with my mind... how his hands starve me of each and everyone of my insecurities… the way he steals my breath and replaces it with his own, and how his lips trace over my skin like it holds all the answers… he inhales me… in those moments, his eyes are the only thing that give him away. If I blink or look away I almost miss it. I don’t know if he reads my breath and body better each time or if each time I decide to let go just a little more. He says things like “I warned you” or “I told you so”, but nothing coulda prepared me for this.
Romantically provocative and a little unhinged. Catastrophe waiting to fuckin happen. I give in to him all my desires… no matter the cost. The moon leaves the shadows alone and only highlights the prettiest parts of us. Our bodies but never our minds.
We don’t talk about it; in fact, we rarely talk about anything of substance. He keeps me at a distance. Just within arms reach but never any closer. But he’s not mysterious… he’s dangerous.
Men that awaken this part of a woman's heart just to leave it in a corner…
But it’s not really real, and that’s ok. The light would only taint what should be left in the shadows. A fantasy… even now as I move through my words I can feel him, I can taste him and I can smell him. A tingle in all the right places. I hate when he leaves my bed… he starves me. I can’t help but trace his silhouette with my finger tips, his forehead down to his lips, and kiss on his back and neck, my mind says “you fuckin idiot” but my body runs this show. Regardless of what we say, this ends only one way. Living for stolen midnight moments, fleeting emotions and staying frozen in time. After what I’ve clawed my way out of, idk if I can be more broken…. But it will hurt.
Leave me in the shadows and don’t take away my power.
Slip off my clothes and slide inside me, but don’t look any further.