It’s a crap shoot everyday how can I hope to understand it? Emotions in the best of times leave me staggered, but it seems that even THAT is rare. The best of times is reserved for Quiet nights cuddling with my angel. But even then the touch can seem inappropriate; the drives seem dirty and base. But I love her; there is no one I have ever known to move me from place to place with such ease. For her ? A thousand times more would never be enough! But at THAT moment in THAT time the touch can seem…like them. If I cannot escape with her, then when can I? If her arms don’t hold, if her heart doesn’t make my heart zoom then what is there? If her heart of passion is tainted then where have I to go? I cannot allow it! My mind is mine I will decide! Her touch is pure; her love is for me alone there is no place to find more. The stream flows from the headwaters. This touch! Why so repulsive to me? I know the answer on one side; all too often I am touched in my mind without any choice or permission. Other times the touch comes with permission but at a terrible loss. The pain of guilt is amazing, never ending it seems. This poison, this tainted pleasure I take with me…to our bed. And how do I share that? Every part of me wants her, and some part of me is ashamed of that. Every part of me wants her touch until the bastard paints with brush strokes of shame a picture of them instead. Then what to do? To say something is to present my pain and my shame to the one that I love the most of all. It is to again present the opportunity for rejection. Almost it seems… to invite it; And so to be robbed of the only Illusion left. That she and I are innocent, untouched by the bastard. The illusion that when I touch her it is her alone and no one in my mind and it is her touch as it comes to me and not the hands of others. That it is love and not something ugly.
Either I will find a way, or I will make one.