Piece of me
2002-11-20 - 6:36 p.m.

I followed you, as if you were my last hope, my dearest wish, my only desire. You didn't disappoint me. I wanted a fight, and you proved to be the most vicious, delicious nemesis I've ever faced.

My opposite number, my mirror image, my reflective, seductive twin. But never mine. Maybe that was half the fun, half the challenge. We could never belong to each other. You and I, we belong to no one but ourselves.

Still. The pieces of self that we each tore off the other and swallowed were the most exotic fruits I've ever tasted, will ever taste. The rembrance of the press of my teeth into the delectable resistance of your skin is enough to cast me back into that shadowy room for one instant behind my eyelids. For that time which passed without the marking of hours, minutes or seconds, we burned brightly.

The small sounds of struggle we made as we clashed were more resonant in my mind than the clearest bell. Sensations remain almost intact in my memory, even though the sweat that bloomed on my skin that night has long since dried and been washed away countless times over. Blood turned to red honey, nectar on my tongue, an ache in my gut, over and over. You've spoiled me for others, you know. I think I left parts of myself behind in those sheets, but there is no regret in me.

You took me by the hand and showed me the edge of the world. Your strong fingers laced with mine could hold me as tightly, as effortlessly as steel manacles if only you'd been so inclined. I looked over the rim and felt my head spin, felt the blood almost literally reverse it's flow in my veins. We looked down from above it all. Or were we below? Even though the knowledge it brought me wasn't without pain, for that alone, you earned those peices of me that you have. Even if you don't know, never looked at them twice.

You transformed me. Even if I never speak these words into your ear, they're no less true. You've changed my world. And here I run out of words. Thank you seems so inadequate. I owe you.

before - after