Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.
It was hard and fast. I called you my tidal wave. You swept over me, fell down heavy onto me. Tall and monumental. Like a storybook legend. It was only moments until I was swallowed whole.
I wanted to swallow all of you. I needed you inside me, always inside of me.
Push deeper, sink faster. Push deeper, sink faster.
But you wanted reality. And a great story.
But I was only tits and ass to you. Just like you were only words to me.
You are beautiful like demolition. Just the thought of you draws my knuckles white. I don’t need a god. I have you and your beautiful mouth, your hands holding onto me, the nails leaving unfelt wounds, your hot breath on my neck. The taste of your saliva. The darkness is ours. The nights belong to us. Everything we do is secret. Nothing we do will ever be understood; we will be feared and kept well away from. It will be the stuff of legend, endless discussion and limitless inspiration for the brave of heart. It’s you and me in this room, on this floor. Beyond life, beyond morality. We are gleaming animals painted in moonlit sweat glow. Our eyes turn to jewels and everything we do is an example of spontaneous perfection. I have been waiting all my life to be with you. My heart slams against my ribs when I think of the slaughtered nights I spent all over the world waiting to feel your touch. The time I annihilated while I waited like a man doing a life sentence. Now you’re here and everything we touch explodes, bursts into bloom or burns to ash. History atomizes and negates itself with our every shared breath. I need you like life needs life. I want you bad like a natural disaster. You are all I see. You are the only one I want to know.
Be careful, Anais, abnormal pleasures kill the taste for normal ones.
It’s hard for an educated woman to turn her head off. That’s part of the joy of being a submissive. None of the decisions are yours. When you can’t refuse anything and can’t even move, those voices in your head go silent. All you can do, and all you are permitted to do, is feel.
I don’t need a god. I have you and your beautiful mouth, your hands holding onto me, the nails leaving unfelt wounds, your hot breath on my neck.
I need a man who will take what he wants from me — take what belongs to him — no matter the time or place.
I want a trouble-maker for a lover,
Blood spiller, blood drinker, a heart of flame,
Who quarrels with the sky and fights with fate,
Who burns like fire on the rushing sea.
From Rumi’s Kolliyaat-e Shams-e Tabrizi
Edited by Badiozzaman Forouzanfar (Tehran, Amir Kabir, 1988).
(via fuckyeahexistentialism)
I’m the luckiest girl in the world. My very own VALENTINE.
Lightbeam garters…
Just for the record, she still loves you. She wouldn’t bother to torture you if she didn’t.
usandyoukc