Jeremy

What does he know about want or desire? he has never felt what it is to be held, to be looked on with supposed adoration. I have come so close to being really loved. I can nearly taste the sweetness of it, but am always left with a mouth full of rotten flowers. I just want to kiss his bearded cheek and hold him close. It hurts so bad.

It hurts.

I hurt.

The wanting never gets any easier. I can feel the empty place inside of me where he should be. And it is not between my legs, but deep within my chest, in that place that is neither real nor imagined. I need him in my soul. I need him to make me whole. How can I be so certain of him? He had never even looked me in the eyes. Never even smelled my hair or dared to reach for my hand.

There is so much standing in the way. I just want to hold him, cradle his head on my chest and hum softly. But if I tell him then I am pushing, and I push on him all the time. He needs time and space, he is so young. And I am so impatient. I have already been stupid, already betrayed and lied for lust. My life was not strained and full enough of drama, I had to reach out to a hated man, and touch him with the passion I long to shower on my boy, my Mochroi. I yearn so strongly that I am likely to lose that which I desire.

The only asnwer is the one I fear most; I should stop talking to him. What do I gain by this game? He is never going to come to me, and I cannot go to him. I want him so baddly. I lay here with tears in my eyes as I type this. I want to fight for him. But some battles cannot be won with gun fire, and I am the poorest sort of general. I am lead around by my passions and desires, no logic can guild me, no light house can bring me safly home, I am sure to crash and smash myself on the rocky shores of lusty need and desire. There is nothing that I can do, nothing.

Why do I torture myself this way? Why cannot I be strong for once and accept that life is unfair. I have found the man that could make me happy and I can never even touch him. I should give up. I want to. The longer I hold on the more I am going to hurt. I need to let go. There are no happy endings, I am not sleeping beauty or Belle, reality is final and cruel. But I love him, and I cannot stop. I wish he had never told me, I wish I had told him then, I wish that I had told him to come, not to think about it just to come. I wish I had not paid him a moments attention.

I want to hold him. I want to tell him that he is wonderful and handsome and loved, loved forever and ever. I want to adore him and make him feel like a God amoung men. I want to laugh at his jokes and kiss the corners of his eyes. I want to worship at his feet and wake up to see the drowl on his pillow, blushing as I wipe at what is at the corner of my own mouth. I want to make right all that is wrong with him, to complete him and fufill him the way I know he can for me.

I never thought I could feel this way again. I feel so small and imperfect, so useless and stupid. And yet when he says I am beautiful I believe him, I really believe him. He makes me beautiful, takes away the stains and makes me pure all with a few typed words. I want him to read this, and I am hidding it. I cannot share it, cannot push. I should not talk to him anymore. I should give up and pray that whatever deity there is delivers him someone who can actually do for him all the things I want to do. I should say good-bye.