Feb. 10, 2003 - 11:53 p.m.
I said I would never retrace these steps, but the picture is so clear in my mind. I do not want to lose the image, so I try to capture it in words. It’s a pathetic attempt, but I cannot bear to lose this last piece of you.
It is warmth so deep inside of me; my skin feels cold to the touch. As if this fire was kindled from my body, leeching away all of my heat to feed it. I remember how you stared so intently into my eyes when you spoke to me although the words escape my memory. I compared the intensity to a past encounter.
I was sixteen and a beautiful stranger walked into the store. We spoke of inconsequentials, but in that moment I knew I was the only thing alive in his world. He could read every syllable my body spoke, and the story was detailed and involved, unlike the drivel spilling from my lips. When he turned and left, I was ever so tempted to follow and throw myself into his arms. But that would have ruined a perfect moment.
You had that same aura about you when you sliced open my skin. It was in that frozen second of time, I realized there would be an end to this sick paradise. Even as I was swept up in the moment, opening myself to you, somehow I knew: you would fade and become a memory. Speaking my goodbye, the fatal safe words, the day I walked out the door, the directions that were misplaced: all of that was just an encore. The climax was the moment you raised your head, and lips, slightly tinged with blood, left my body.
Even should you walk across the threshold this moment, I will never have those acute sensations you engendered. Fear and desire will never again be so closely entwined. Even my tolerance for such things has been diminished in their absence.
Today I caught of whiff of your scent. Something inhuman was in the air, and it made me laugh and smile and reminisce. I’ll run across your runes soon and cry in solitude. For now though, I just hope your gods keep you safe, and I remember.
