Struggle

The dream is the same. A different night, a different time… but it is always the same. It is always you.
And you always leave.

You are fast asleep in my arms; your muscular frame pressed into mine.
Exhaustion evident in our labored breaths, you rest your head on my chest, my hands caressing your back, as I replay our night of passion in my head.

I have worshiped your body openly. Without shame and with no reserve. And you have allowed me to do it. You have welcomed my adoration, and encouraged me. And yet you will leave me. You will abandon me with no want of forgiveness, as soon as I open my eyes.

I can still feel your hot breath against my shoulder.  Your hands on my back, and then suddenly, one of them covering my mouth, as your fevered rhythm breaks momentarily and you cry out into me, releasing your fierce suffering into my soul.
 
It was exactly what I have imagined. What I have dreamed and fantasized about for ages; you.
Unbridled and wild.

Accepting the very substance of your being, your essence permeates my core, and soothes me into further submission to your will.
Don’t let me awaken. No, not yet.

Even when I am not dreaming, I see the struggle in your soulful, young eyes and it makes me cry for you.
Stay with me my love and I will satisfy your cruel demands.
All of them.
I will give you the freedom that you crave. And within that freedom, you will find a respite from the unquenchable thirst that drives you.
I will heal your wounds and repair your broken psyche.

I cannot help but taste your pain when I lick your skin; the saltiness of our nights passion mixed with the agony of your loss.
Taking it all within myself, far from your heart.
I beg you, please don’t go.

©2011 Garden Summerland