I torture myself, even in my dreams
I woke up with scars.
No, not from sex. I haven't been able to have sex for two nights now. My body is sick of me demanding so much from it. But anyways, I'm sure you didn't need to know that.
But the scars; I have scratches all over my hands, and I woke up with a thin line of crusted blood trailing down my face.
Soon enough I'll have to wear mittens to sleep like an infant would.
I woke up grumpy. Even before I saw all the scars.
I had a dream. It was realistic like all my dreams are. I mean hell, the night before in my dreams I was writing down things I needed on our grocery chalkboard we have at my house. It took me an hour after I woke up to remember what I had to write down.
But anyways, Mikhail was in it, as was Geoff. It was my typical Geoff in the background kind of dream. Mikhail was fixing some womans house, and there was a party there, but he wasn't partying; just fixing up a desk or something. The whole time I was fighting this urge to run up to him and kiss him.
Call it some sort of runoff of this amazing willpower I suddenly have developed.
I didn't get to. He didn't want me to. He looked at me and I got flashes of this memory I have of him; watching movies in the dark, him lying on my stomach, and I can barely see the blue shimmer in his eyes from the tv behind his hair. He looked so gorgeous. I think it was the most turned on I had ever been just by looking at someone.
He looked just like himself. He still had the timid smile. For awhile there it felt like he was on a stage, doing whatever it was he was doing, and I was standing there, in the front row, trying to reach him but I just couldn't.
I'm always going to want him back, but I know I never can. I can't hurt him, or Geoff, or myself again.
It's torture, but I live with it.
No, not from sex. I haven't been able to have sex for two nights now. My body is sick of me demanding so much from it. But anyways, I'm sure you didn't need to know that.
But the scars; I have scratches all over my hands, and I woke up with a thin line of crusted blood trailing down my face.
Soon enough I'll have to wear mittens to sleep like an infant would.
I woke up grumpy. Even before I saw all the scars.
I had a dream. It was realistic like all my dreams are. I mean hell, the night before in my dreams I was writing down things I needed on our grocery chalkboard we have at my house. It took me an hour after I woke up to remember what I had to write down.
But anyways, Mikhail was in it, as was Geoff. It was my typical Geoff in the background kind of dream. Mikhail was fixing some womans house, and there was a party there, but he wasn't partying; just fixing up a desk or something. The whole time I was fighting this urge to run up to him and kiss him.
Call it some sort of runoff of this amazing willpower I suddenly have developed.
I didn't get to. He didn't want me to. He looked at me and I got flashes of this memory I have of him; watching movies in the dark, him lying on my stomach, and I can barely see the blue shimmer in his eyes from the tv behind his hair. He looked so gorgeous. I think it was the most turned on I had ever been just by looking at someone.
He looked just like himself. He still had the timid smile. For awhile there it felt like he was on a stage, doing whatever it was he was doing, and I was standing there, in the front row, trying to reach him but I just couldn't.
I'm always going to want him back, but I know I never can. I can't hurt him, or Geoff, or myself again.
It's torture, but I live with it.