Alexithymia III

One too many thoughts for you?
Bombarded by their persistence, they started melting out of your box onto my skin, tickling its surface like a droplet of water tracing its way in, out and away.
Never have I felt nudity, as exposed and raw, as now.
Intensity meets insanity. I shiver. I become the channel and the blank pages about to be filled by your confessions - a guilty pleasure of mine. 
But I could no longer look at you; I look, you receive, you decipher, I reveal. Tables turn. These cards are not mine anymore to play, these pages are not mine to read. 
Thoughts crawl back into their box, I'm not a safe ground. Confessions sealed within, feeding on my burning desires. 
I had you, almost, and that was surreal. 

Alexithymia II

Words wake me up, they pull me by the eyelids and drag me by the fingers that have already become impatient to pencil you down. The scent of these papers, longing to be inhaled, seducingly invite me. I come. Much obliged, much tempted...how can I resist what's more ecstatic than all recent dreams combined.

You are now with me, while I am not with you.

Repercussions of that chuckling stare - my last moment with you - penetrate me. A pure manifestation of that child in you, embodied in a smile I am yet to understand but have grown fond of. I felt something unprecedented as I made my farewell with that version of you - I'll never see it again.

And there I dwell on chronicles of a fraction of a second. Will I be armed with the readiness I need to meet you anew? I am stuck with the child; he's filled you with a kind of warmth, much contagious. It is my company tonight - as your gaze will remain mine - until you envelop me with another one.

And the further I feel you, the more I realize...we are an illness and these words are its parading symptoms. 

Alexithymia

You're my freshest mystery, yet a solved riddle, one with concealed secrets I am eager to know about...I desire to delve in the skin of your mind and explore its flow in all its corners; As the forest craves darkness to indulge in its nocturnal attire, my thoughts travel to yours seeking them like magnets.
An appeal beyond attraction; not an attachment, not an addiction, rather a refined intrigue unlike others' mental dullnesses. A vulgar display of sensuality, it may seem...but you arouse in me a certain calamity.
Ambivalence has never struck me nor sunk deep in me as it has since you poured your confusion into my restless mind, once at ease. You disturb my peace with sweet anguish as senses long for what they've tasted, again & again..a flavor they cannot wash away rather insist it lingers, replicates and plants its seeds in my soils. Quite the unknown harvest to anticipate, but that I do..
For the unknown is a rare quality amidst habitual patterns, the encores of love affairs and others. Anticipation that lacks all expectations, you leave space for none. So vague, so absurd, so delicious with each added bafflement...perplexity at its best. I drown...in a muse completely unaware, I suppose, of its own waves.
I observe my reflection as I mutter whispers of my impressions of you...I identify no word uttered, just sighs on the loops of your palpable absence when your body is not in touch with mine, when conversations of our eyes are muted.
One infatuation after the other, you layered me within the several characters you've explicitly functioned through, so far, and rare did I understand...
Cheeks slide over my chest, shoulder to shoulder, eyes swimmingly closed, lips enticingly half-bitten - the images in my head clash on my body - I press harder to grasp the energy they emit.
A chaotic demonstration of orgasmic exhalations exchanged with piercing looks, of distant moments that never made any sense, of electrifying laughter or a mere lisp, of anxiety over missing you and not knowing if you do too.
You speak my language and I yours, sometimes. When we don't, I enjoy losing myself on your alien lands, until I realize that I lose you each time we're apart, and I regain another you.  

Myth*

"Write the story of us...for us"
While pain ignites memories and memories ignite pain; the pain you've inflicted in me ignited the death of our memories.
A masterpiece of amnesia, our love tastes like.
Have I ever known you at all? Is there a story to tell?
This is the loss of a story that I no longer mourn...a sorrowless case I no longer recognize; my senses fail me and so does my mind.
I don't feel you anymore, I don't recall how I ever have. A blank page I never thought I'd regain.
To feed on your remembrance is no longer a possibility for your existence reincarnated into the myth you always were, not even a figment of your own imagination. You're not real, you're not unreal, you're an attempt of a creation destroyed by its own mechanism.
"I only know myself because I know you"
There is no you, if knowing yourself is by thinking you know me.
Unless...I am agony.
Unless...I am sufferance.
Unless...I am melancholy.
Unless...I am insanity.
Unless...I am guilt.
Unless...I am violence.
Unless...I am rage.
Unless...I am disgust.
In that case, I am you.

                                                                                                          October 29th, 2014.