(no subject)
7/2006
Every breath I breathe of you is intoxicating. Sometimes, you're nothing more than the memory of flowers on the windowsill, silk petal distractions and promises of love, forever. I used to fall into your promises and into your bed with no thought. My heart was a casualty in your battlefield; my body nothing more than a weapon I used to destroy myself. My mother would warn me about boys sometimes, but she never spoke a word about what men would do to me. I'd tell her not to worry, my heart was one of solid gold; I didn't realize until you that it was really one of stainless steel. The feelings I have for you are anything but regret. Your words are those inscribed on my heart, your actions are those printed on my flesh. These are the lessons I will disclose to my children.
Sex was always something I regarded as nothing more than a hasty attempt to catch your breath, followed by a rush of pleasure and passion, and ultimately pain. The way two bodies come together is always beautiful; as priceless as diamonds, as timeless as pearls. The way two peoples' breath can rise and fall, synchronized feelings and bodies, and girls young and naive enough to call it "love." The price we pay for sex is no doubt the highest price we will ever conform to paying. We give away our bodies like currency, each time sure this time is different. This time it's real. This time it will last. I have learned through experience that no time will last. Each time our bodies come together--in every way it is possible to come together--I feel farther away. Being a part of someone else is the part that hurts the most.
I try very hard not to become too attached, so words can’t touch me; pull me; drag me face down in the dirt. I am every part of myself, and no part of you. Our skin on skin will be a very cheap expense, an excuse for love or what it could be. You are unwritten novels. You are pages and pages of words yet untouched, untasted, unheard. You are waiting to be unraveled, undone. I know the mystery no one has cared enough to figure out. I know the truth.
Every breath I breathe of you is intoxicating. Sometimes, you're nothing more than the memory of flowers on the windowsill, silk petal distractions and promises of love, forever. I used to fall into your promises and into your bed with no thought. My heart was a casualty in your battlefield; my body nothing more than a weapon I used to destroy myself. My mother would warn me about boys sometimes, but she never spoke a word about what men would do to me. I'd tell her not to worry, my heart was one of solid gold; I didn't realize until you that it was really one of stainless steel. The feelings I have for you are anything but regret. Your words are those inscribed on my heart, your actions are those printed on my flesh. These are the lessons I will disclose to my children.
Sex was always something I regarded as nothing more than a hasty attempt to catch your breath, followed by a rush of pleasure and passion, and ultimately pain. The way two bodies come together is always beautiful; as priceless as diamonds, as timeless as pearls. The way two peoples' breath can rise and fall, synchronized feelings and bodies, and girls young and naive enough to call it "love." The price we pay for sex is no doubt the highest price we will ever conform to paying. We give away our bodies like currency, each time sure this time is different. This time it's real. This time it will last. I have learned through experience that no time will last. Each time our bodies come together--in every way it is possible to come together--I feel farther away. Being a part of someone else is the part that hurts the most.
I try very hard not to become too attached, so words can’t touch me; pull me; drag me face down in the dirt. I am every part of myself, and no part of you. Our skin on skin will be a very cheap expense, an excuse for love or what it could be. You are unwritten novels. You are pages and pages of words yet untouched, untasted, unheard. You are waiting to be unraveled, undone. I know the mystery no one has cared enough to figure out. I know the truth.