The dawn is breaking...  

angeldickfuck 42M
26 posts
9/6/2006 2:02 am
The dawn is breaking...

The dawn is breaking...
A light shining through...
You're barely waking...
And I'm tangled up in you.

I have been listening to this song over and over again since I slipped into my bed last night. When I dressed I put in on the stereo, just repeating it. My iPod whispered it to me on my ride to work, insulating me from the world about me. It tortures me, makes tears well up in my eyes, filling me with a deep, soul-wrenching sadness that I refuse to let go of. My heart, kay, loved this song. Somehow, she always thought it captured our early relationship. I never really listened to it, although the music has always touched my heart. It has been a bad night and day for me. From a scarf of hers I found in my closet (was that her scent or my imagination I breathed in when I buried my face in it?), I moved to her pictures and then to this song. I finally listened to it.

I'm open, you're closed.
Where I'll follow you'll go.
I worry I won't see your face
Light up again.

I am listening to it still, at my desk, in this old hot and muggy office, the words washing over me like wave after ocean wave, assaulting me, tears slowly escaping from my eyes and creeping down my cheeks. How did I come to this? Is this incapacitating pain worth all of the joy we had? I think it is a small price to pay. But how did I come to this - weeping silently, talking to a computer, a cavern in my heart so vast it can never be filled.

Even the best fall down sometimes.
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme.
Out of the doubt that fills my mind,
I somehow found you and I collide.

I fool myself into believing that she is somehow going to read this, escape her family, and show up on my sofa, lying there barefoot, that big toe of hers sticking up at an incongruous angle, her ankles crossed, her smooth thighs separated ever so little, sticking out from under that old-fashioned nightshirt she unexplicably loved to lounge in. A book blocking her face and hair, propped up on her chest. Her nightshirt is gathered up around her bottom, I can spy those silk panties that I insisted she was fitted for at Jean Yu. One of too few gifts I gave to her. No matter how many gifts, they would have never been enough. She knew I loved to see her in lovely lingerie so she indulged me, although it wasn't something she would do for herself - she was a cotton girl, simple, sexy. I would come back late from the lab and she would finish the sentence that she was reading - she never left something in the middle - and then pop up to her knees, kneeling on the couch, smiling, scanning me, trying to guess my mood. Shall she hug me because I obviously needed her touch? Shall she engage me and listen while I excitedly tell her about my latest success? Shall she bring me something light to eat because I am entirely worn out and won't do it for myself? Just to have her smiling at me with her thin eyebrows raised ... this made my apartment a home. I miss her, I miss her, I miss her, I miss her, I MISS MY GIRL!

I'm quiet, you know,
You make a first impression.
I've found I'm scared to know,
I'm always on your mind.

I always thought it was this domme thing that frightened her about me or maybe my temper or maybe moodiness or I dont know what. I never dreamed the depth of my feeling for her would frighten her. I never hold anything back. A ball of fire. A wave of devastation. A black box. Overwhelming affection. Extremes. The grey was always hard for me. I was our face, she comfortably settled behind me. I led. Now, I have nowhere to go, without her behind me.

Even the best fall down sometimes.
Even the stars refuse to shine.
Out of the back you fall in time
Somehow find you and I collide...

Have I frighten her away - finally? Did my love become more than she could bear? I never mistreated her - ever. She was curious about my darkness, my blackness, which I gave to those who craved it. She wanted to experience it too. The fear and excitement of loss of control, having someone else bring you to places you were too afraid to visit yourself. Allowing yourself the courage to trust another without question. Rarely a bad word, and I mean like only twice in our time together. She cried because of me once. We had been together for months, indulging in parties with friends of mine. She participated, enjoyed it, but I always thought it was only because I loved it. One time she looked at me, pleading with her eyes - not this time, please, not this way, not this way. I was blinded by my passion. Afterwards, she was inconsolable. I had failed her, I had not protected her, I had forgotten my word to her. She had gone along because of her promises to me. She wouldn't be held by me. She buried her face in my pillows and wept. I covered her bare body with mine and tried to absorb the quaking unhappiness that poured from her. I wanted to take it all away - I was too late. I had failed. I began to cry myself. Inconsolable as well. I married her at that moment. I swore to myself to never ever hurt my flower again. I would have died if I could have changed what had happened. I would have died for her. Doesnt that count for something? She didnt tire of me. She didnt leave of her own accord. I know this. I know her. Like my own heart, I know her. I know this as if it were in my own mind. I have no doubts.

Don't stop here...

I lost my place...
I'm close behind...

Why do I torture myself? Why can I not move on? It has been six months. I have managed so much in my life - my mother, my father's murder, my as a child, being so out of step with my peers because of my youth, my coming out, my abandonment by my devastated mother, her sudden death from cancer a little over a year ago, my lack of reconciliation - Has this broken me? I cant leave my heart, it is all I had left.

Even the best fall down sometimes.
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme.
Out of the doubt that fills your mind
You finally find, you and I collide.
You finally find, you and I collide.
You finally find, you and I collide.

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