Flustered

I hear the old, nostalgic notes of a game I used to love. It brings back memories, memories of you. Memories of talking to you for hours on the phone. Memories of listening to you sleep.

The soft notes strum away as a harp with an eerie flute sounds in the background.

The first time we met, the first time I touched you, the first time we kissed, the first time we made love, right there in the living room, right on the floor. I couldn't contain myself for too long. Your body seemed to beg for me. After it was done, your wrapped me up, legs behind me, arms around me, eyes locked in as we became one. You owned me, I owned you.

People will say you can't "own" someone else, they could never understand the intensity, the gravity of it. Like every breath was drawn just for you, every beat, every cell, every time, all of it, for you.

Yes, I still look back on those days. Yes, I'll always love you. How could I not? Everything we did together, it was always intense yet there was innocence to it. As if our bodies intertwining was just something meant to happen. It was natural, it was innocent even as much as our actions may not have been.

Over and over again we climaxed together. Every single time, multiple times a day. We never did get passed 8 times though, by then I had ran empty. Nothing left to give.

You had me all over you, all over your chest, your face, your hands, your toes, your legs, even your hair.

Likewise, I had you all over me. I always made sure of it. Smearing you all over my body, your soft, silky like being. It was like my own personal cocoon.

But it wasn't always just about that. A major component, yes. A vital component even. I had to have you and you had to have me and we had to have each other in every way so long as our eyes met in the act, so long as the remnants became part of each of us. All over.

That's owning someone. It's not like a slave nor a possession, no. It's nothing like that. It's like having her all over my body, inside my body, behind my eyes, in my head, pumping through my veins and equally so, I all over her, inside her, every inch, every way, emotions, fluids, everything.

We made each other. We didn't just make each other whole, we MADE each other. Filling in scars and cracks and crevices with one or another. Like fiends, we devoured one another with pure lust and yet a powerful love. She swallowed me, I swallowed her. In soul, in mind, in body, every way.

She carried my seed in her, bore a son. Our little sniffy baby puppy, our jelly bean fishy cookie. How could I ever stop loving her? Why did she stop loving me?

We had our amazing moments together, in each other's eyes and hearts and bodies, but we had a sickness between us. We couldn't get enough of each other, in any way.

So when we couldn't act on our impulses, when we were apart. This got bad... real bad. She hated when I had to leave, I hated it too. No one could say which of us hated it more, but the ugly truth was that we hated it so much, we began to hate each other.

It's been a few years since I saw her last. I know I could never not love her, no matter the things I said, no matter the things she did and in some way, I wonder if she feels the same. If we were to see each other again, what would happen? Would all those scars just fade away as we raced towards one another? Desperate to feed and drink and be one, to be whole, to own. Or would the years of cold silence have decayed that? Replaced by something new?

No.

We never had closure because you can't close a Chapter like that. It is always open. It is always there. But the strings... no. As much as I would wish otherwise. No.

I'll always love you and you will always own every part of me, inside and out. But... no.