Friday, July 29, 2016

The Devil Dyed Me Blue

I've tried for weeks to get him to talk to me. He refuses. Last I heard, it was a short email, saying something along the lines that he's confused, but "know[s] sex is involved." That was weeks ago.

The last email I sent him, I said, "Do you just want a physical relationship with me? Is that what I don't understand?"

I can't just give myself away, and hope for the best--hope he won't hurt me (either on purpose or by accident). I just can't close my eyes anymore, and do whatever he wishes--without thinking about the disastrous consequences. I can't just hope that he has my best interests at heart because, I believe, those interests are in direct conflict with his own agenda.

He wants me in little bits, pieces he can easily swallow. I want the whole package, and to dig into it with gnashing teeth, greedily. I want promise and a future, and love shared--love before sex, and love after sex. I want to be cradled in comfort.

I want the everyday ordinary, the antithesis to the center of our affair.

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