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Midnight. A cold spring rain muffles the tears. The room is dark and my body tight, curled in the protective round that has become me. Soft cat noises intrude, breaking the spell, forcing me to listen. Time is my enemy.....declaring war on sleep, on the rhythm of a body that needs to be held....time, the heartbeat that races and slows with no pattern but only the sight of her. Multi rhythms that collide as I think of her, slowing as the tears start again.

One month and 5 days ago she threw her wedding ring into the ashtray and said, *quot;get out!*quot; The reasons? Wedges that came in all shapes, sizes and agendas: other women, my baggage, her baggage, unhealthy problem-solving.

The pain is unbearable. fatih escort

The familiar creak of her door opening. A dream? I hear the steps in the hall. She quietly stops in back of my chair. The heat from her presence is a warm breeze over my body. Her hands gently brush back my hair. Her fingers touch the tears...dissolving them. My body trembles as she gently massages my shoulders, my arms, the outer part of my breasts. Flashes of sexual energy pass through me.

I withdraw inside, eyes shut, living again the sweet aching pain of wanting Pam. She reaches down to brush my nipples hard red waiting. No words pass between us. No permission granted or asked for hands that know me well. Words wont etiler escort come easily but the soft sucking sounds replace anger. A gentle tongue that lingers over me, morphed out of the tongue that lashed out in her pain. Silently stripping my shirt and my soul, she presses hard against my breasts, her eyes avoid mine.

Pulses. Beats. Ticking. Explosions. Pain. Fear. The rape of integrity and hope, entangled in the hair that tickles across my chest; the butterfly beats in my crotch as wet as the night storm. She spirals her tongue around me, arms pulling me closer with each circle of her mouth. The need to touch her is my obsession. Her lips draw mine into that long unforgettable taste of her mouth beşiktaş escort and sweet saliva mixed with my salty tears.

I love her.

The smell of her hair...forbidden now. Mingled sweat and sex and tears all join to wash away the bitterness of the past 2 months replaced by the sweet agony of uncertainty and longing. I am frozen. My hands want to touch that sweet musky place that is the essence of Pam the woman. My heart wants to touch the dark place where a child's pain lives.

Her hands are gentle, touching me to my soul. Hands that hurt, hands that heal.

I am wet from tears and my own juices. The salt is bitter like my punishment . A taste of the ages, created from the tears of lost souls lost in the dreadful pain of being in love.

Midnight. Time of the dark sleep. Unloved. Not wanted. I will hide in her vision and strain my body and mind towards the light that only love brings.

If this is a dream...sleep on.