The most painful moment of my entire life and consequently the most unforgettable was the last night I ever spent with her.
We just lay together, helpless to save our relationship. I laid awake holding her body intimately close to mine. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t physically let her go because she was forcing me to emotionally let her go. I could sense her unease at first that she was restraining her desire for me so I wouldn’t be tempted to make love to her. She lay awake for a bit, as if guarding herself against the idea of having me awake beside her with that temptation. She gave in and fell asleep soon. Not I. I lay there all night, clutching the most beautiful woman to my chest. I truly loved her with all my being. She felt like a part of me. The best part. I was helpless, I was hopeless. It was excruciating. I thought of death and drowning and falling for eternity. I swore to never feel that way again. Even the worst pain is worth one memory of pleasure and sometimes those memories are the same.
I know that I don’t know everything or anything. I know that we are all so lost and starving for love and craving for the notions of possibilities and power that it makes us lesser. I know that the dark and alone is a place we all share. I know that there is so much to be found in life, so much wonder and mystery and excitement in every moment that it can and should be shared with everyone. I know we find something in each other like ourselves that often bonds us in unimaginably intangible ways. I know that the possibility of filling life with as much love as possible is worth every breath. I know that you are not alone because I am here and we are not alone, we are together. I know that we are connected and joined somehow amidst the Universe an electron, a pixel, a word, a phrase, a meaning and an emotion that I know to be mine is also yours. I know that you want more and that you are filled with pains and passions like every living thing must be. I want to tell you that you are going to be okay. I love you. I do. I may not have met you or seen you or felt you, but I know you. You are like me and we are beautiful. We are powerful beyond comprehension. We can do anything. Together. Let us breathe. Let us imagine and hope and dream and love. Let us live. Every moment is worth the fight. Every breath is worth it. You have worth, you have value, you have substance. You are love, you are divine and magnificent. You are glorious and I am here for you. There is always a path, always a light in the dark. It is you, it is me, it is us. Just share your self: your love, your thoughts, your pleasure and your pain. Share with me everything. I want to help. You can help too. We can help each other. Let us reach the stars together, let us discover, let us learn, let us live with love and find peace amongst each other. Rest now, tomorrow is another day. It is filled with more moments for us to be better, more chances for us to change the world.
She asked me to draw her a picture of a castle once. Her castle. She was a princess you see, and I thought her my queen. I could never fulfill this request. All I could draw, could paint, was her. She filled me up: my eyes when shut, my mouth when empty, my heart when unsuspecting.
It was just a picture of a fantasy, an image of a dream she once had. We dreamt so grande together once. But dreamers always weep.
A painting she could never touch, never taste, never feel. The sight of a place she would never be. With a glimpse she would visit but never plan to stay.
I could not paint you a castle, my love, for that would never suffice. I would have built you one. With this heart and these two hands I would have spent my life building something wonderful with you.
Now all I have are your framed images of joy and hope and love, captured recordings of expressions you showed me once. You showed me the real you and I gave you everything I knew to give. Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t enough. I can’t look at them without crying. I can’t remember you without dying.
Our castle is lost, buried in the sand of time. I can’t even remember what it looks like; I was never good at drawing castles.
John Legend – All of Me: http://youtu.be/450p7goxZqg
What mercurial, fleeting, clumsy and beautiful glances and smiles evoked with these humble, soft-spoken words. It is a gaze of wonder and puzzlement, fascination but most of all innocence. No guilt, although expected, is found in these moments shared. It is a marvelous and profound experience. Such beauty enthralls with a shy nervousness and sudden awkwardness of prolonged eyes meeting.
Irresistible, unattainable, unimaginable without sorrow. I feel only wonder.
Random words are merely a distraction. Our gazes meet and our faces communicate on some cosmic level. Stars explode in her eyes and a thousand suns live in those cheeks. If her smile were a door to be opened, I would remove its hinges. It would be as I have become–unhinged at the seams of my heart.
My chest floats towards you and my head swims away, trying to capture everything in these moments, to remember the wonder…the wonder of you. They echo within long after, ripples of their former selves, always dragging the weight of some dark, nebulous cloud behind. It waits there, the nothingness and bleakness of consequence with a dreaded, pale stare. It’s a familiar, lonely storm. Its calm taunts and tears at the hopes of possibilities and “maybe someday”s.
It steals your wonder and hides it away in the darkness.
I am left in want. Left in emptiness. There is a universe of love in me yearning to be spent. Billions of galaxies collide in my soul. Your wonder is a supernova, burning straight through. Don’t hide your light, shine bright! You shine the brightest in everything known. Your wonder, your light, will light anew the stars behind my eyes.
Perhaps you can see this too? The wonder in my eyes as I look at you as you look at me?
Don’t go. Don’t let it go. I would light forever the stars behind your eyes and die to brighten the suns within your cheeks.
With just these words, if only to confess, “you’re wondrous”.
If you believe the world is only getting worse, look through a child’s eyes.
I miss her something aweful today. It’s that closeness, that proximity, that tantalizing warmth of her body next to mine. Just being face to face lip to lip, chest to chest. It’s a warm and sensitive place that now I long for, I desire with such fierce and wild vigor. There’s a peace to find between the sheets, and a passion in love making that is addictive. I remember and long for experiences because it is these memories that are the most powerful because they are of a fully immersive, soul engrossing experience. Chemically, there are all sorts of pleasures that our bodies use to encourage this addiction. The connection to these experiences brings memories directly to the people associated with them. All of the senses are involved, the soul might be connected, leashed, latched onto these memories and imprinted forever. Imprinted and burned into our hearts and minds.
Our fingertips recall the curves and suppleness of our lovers. We learn each other in such an intimate and sensuous manner that we know them and have a deeper knowledge of their true nature. We venture into depths together, and explore the rhythms of our intricate souls. We dance entwined and swim about the universe in extasy. It is in this alone I find bliss, this alone I feel whole. I know this inner place so well, it is a familiar one. There is also a stillness that can be found here, a comfort and calm–the serenity of security. The outside world can slip and fade away and still, here I would lie, here I could perish and do so happily.
My contentment and enjoyment is rather incomprehensible to others–this need, this addiction (much like a monster), craving for flesh. This is not a selfish or self-destructive addiction like so many others. This, however, just makes the denial of the addiction that much easier. Instead, it is an addiction that seeks to share and enjoy the connections brought together by natural compulsion.
People would say to me that what I feel is normal and that everyone feels the same as I do but they just don’t show it or express it or that somehow they suppress these urges. I wonder about that a lot, about how any one else could be patient enough as I have been, to handle these passions, these desires. Perhaps it is not our capacity to love that differs, we all want to be loved, the psychologists will tell you, maybe the only difference is our willingness to express that love.
I miss the simplicity of a shower together, two nude bodies in that close and private place, touching and sliding warm, wet skin against each other, teasing and playing as we will with each other. Foreplay and laughter. I miss whispering into her ear as we lie still and close beneath the sheets. I miss another heart, beating ferociously against me, slick, clammy, sweaty skin sliding around me and burning my insides with desire. It’s at the pit of my stomach now, a knot, a hole inside me, dormant it lingers–like ashes waiting to be rekindled, now just a dull warmth and an aching hunger inside me. The monster grips the cage and shakes and rattles it steadily–he waits patiently–knowing that with time, he will have his freedom. When I discuss this addiction with others, it is only understandable by people who also possess them, other nymphomaniacs. No one ever speaks of such things in our society…something so important to our survival…well not anymore. My name is Johnnathan and I’m a nymphomaniac. How are you?
Is it in you? Surely it’s in you as it is in me? As I believe it is in all of us. That which lies, dormant in some, in the heart and soul of each being. Is it a desire unknown, a longing, a thirst unquenched? It is a defiance, it is courage or bravery, it is the enduring spirit and character of a man. Against the odds, against each other and the world, man contests, professes, confesses that which is a part of his immutable character, that which is all his own and that which will only derive from his very own self. This is considered a man’s word, his honor, his testament. Truth is of the highest quality of word and those who seek truth, the philosophers, are of the highest quality of character. How could any self testimony, if composed entirely of silence, be construed, altered to seem or resemble an admission of guilt or acceptance or affirmation of any kind other than the affirmation of the existence of that which is most true of all — the self, the nous, that internal dialogue and reflection of oneself. By possessing the countenance of silence, man chooses to think instead of speak or act, he should not, by law, be considered less noble for such.
For, to what higher degree of censure could a sovereign hope to impose on an oppressed people but to deny those people the right to compose an argument or defense against that very oppression?
However it happens we never know, we never knew. I only knew how it feels and how it felt. I wanted to have you pressed up against me all day, every day. I spoke with you everyday. There was nothing left unsaid, no secrets between us. Our love is grande, it is passionate and wild and fun. You excite me, you understand me. Everyone knows me, very few understand me. You understand how I desire to please, to tease, to devour you.
You want me and you love me, you tell me often and I smile because I know it’s true. You show me the real you, you let me in, you tell me everything I want to know. You show me attitude and fire, you remind me that you are strong yet weak, confident yet bashful. You are proud and eager and never hold me back. You bring out the best in me: my inner beast… this hungry, untamed animal.
I am an animal. I am a passionate, unrelenting storm. My heart races as the pounding thunder and the fierceness of my desire pours outward from me like the driving rain. Catch me, let us fall wet to the floor and gasp for air, and fill our lungs with life and laughter and every inch of our bodies with pleasure.