It's not like that. It was, but it's not like that now. React and react and react and react and react; pushing leads to being hurt. Eyes meet across a room; there is something in that, a flickering, firing sensation in the stomach, an exciting rush, the cool rush of night air, the crease at the corner of a lip, and then the eyes drop slowly to the floor, and that feeling fades like the moon at dawn. But it pulls you in, a tide across a shore drawing tiny grains of you back out with it, inching away at you, shrinking you with each lusting wave, to drown and drown and drown and drown and drown; a fuck. More than that. Cold words like harder, yes, don't stop, and fuck me. Yes there cold words, but cold words on warm breath, warm breath into burning ears; Sweat and matted hair, cloying hands on hot, sweet tasting skin, rhythm is everything, and everything is rhythm, just before the whole world seizes and it your both just blood rushing, muscles clenched and sighs caught in the throat, your no-one and everyone, nowhere and everywhere for a fraction of a second. And then? Well, then it's just a fuck; like the sand you're just carried away and washed up on a different shore, the mystery gone with another mystical moment. Now there are waves of guilt and uncertainty, questions and insecurity; as they build they become bitterness, resentment, hate, and worst of all, disillusion and boredom; a tsunami insurmountable gasping for breath as the rejection and disappointment fight each other to pull you to your death, to pull you down. Spare me another pull from this. I want something enduring, I want something that will last forever, I want that security and sense of purpose, I want that, need that feeling of hearts beating together, breath drawn in unison to last for a life time and beyond! An orgasm is an infinite second but love is a second for infinity, there is no reason in either but one has the grace of a child, and the other the leer of a whore. Just ten more seconds of this, please, count them so I can feel them slip away, and remember the quality of each one as it passes. But it's not like that. It was, but it's not like that now. React and react and react and react and react; pushing leads to being hurt. An orgasm is an infinite second but love is a second for infinity, and both these crimes hold a life sentence; but do I really deserve to pay this much for a lesson? I have suffered enough. Please spare me from this madness; I can't be alone.
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