A Sense Of Closure
Previous - this entry written on February 05, 2006 at 5:28 pm - Next

They say that kisses are sweet. I say they're wrong - or kissing someone other than him. His kisses aren't sweet, not unless there's the lingering sugar from a sip of juice or a bite of chocolate. Rather, his kisses are salty, tears or a hint of blood leaving his lips slick even before the kiss, a distant almost-bitter undertaste often accompanying it, the aftermath of pain. His kisses are fragile, the slightest force or added pressure and his mouth opens, lips parting, tongue trembling, hesitant, exposed, every other part of him motionless. Further pressure, the sting of teeth catching at his lip, the brutal pressure of a claiming kiss given to him, and he melts, body trembling now, fear adding another spice to the flavor. But even without that, without anything but the gentlest of caresses, his kisses are a timid thing, soft and fearful, afraid. Wonderful.

His skin bears much the same taste to it, salt - sweat, blood, tears - and the echoes of pain, a flavor hard to describe but instantly recognizeable, unique, intense. It makes it easier to hurt him when I can taste him, taste the almost smoky tang that clings to every inch of him when his body is still reddened, bruised, scratched, cut, burnt. Whatever the source of the pain, it leads to the same result, that delicious essence that I love so much. It's been enough to make me cry, sometimes, tasting his submission, his willingness to please, his love, so clearly displayed through that pain.

They say you only hurt the ones you love. Perhaps for some people that's true - I know I've hurt a few people who I felt little but scorn for, purely because they deserved it. A swift kick in the ass, a slap upside the head, a cruel word, whatever. Forgotten a moment later. But to cause pain that touches body and mind and heart, to reach into someone's thoughts and feelings and strike there as surely as you land a blow on their skin, that takes love. Only love will let you slide so deeply into someone, let them open to you, merge you until you can feel every cut, every wound, every harsh word, know what they feel... delight in it, because they bear it, for you. To satisfy you. To save you from yourself. To show you that they love, that they understand, that they appreciate the moments of kindness, the in-jokes and the cuddles and the long silent smiles, playing together, talking together, or just being near each other, close in some indefineable way. It takes love to hurt someone that deeply. It takes love to be hurt like that.

I've been angsting over this for... how long now? Too long. I've been remembering how good it was, when it was good. Wondering if I'd done too much, hurt him too deeply, if I could be considered a Bad Thing to have happened to him. I don't think so. I know what he was when we met. Where he was. Exactly how much faith he had in himself, and how little self-respect. Now he's blossomed. Become the butterfly I told him he could - and would - be. It hurts every time this happens, however long or short the time I had, however simple or complex the relationship, however intense the experience. It's not the first time. It won't be the last. I know myself, as surely as I know them.

There's always another. And another. And another. There's always a point where the one who I had thought would always be my First, the one who, even unowned, would still hold my respect... when that one fades from my thoughts, when another outshines him. When I remember how to smile again.

The last few months I've been waffling on the edge - I think at least twice I crossed it but both times, seizure-twitchies left me forgetful and what might have meant I'd finally settled things could have meant ten thousand other things as well. My delight for vagueness knows no bounds.

Long Distance Love

I remember Alex still, clearly. As clearly as any, better than most, even. I remember the day when I realized I wasn't thinking of him, of his face, his voice, his name, when I thought about what I wanted most from a submissive. From a slave. From a lover.

The Art Of Breaking

It's been a long time. A long, LONG time. Matt, Hida, Inari, even Zian - while pleasant, and certainly a fix for the Domme side of me - it seems it was all In Passing. Think about it. The first real newness, as far as playtoys, submissives, slaves, property, is Radu. Before him... Kadin, Nreshan, Torian, found within roughly the same time range, if claimed at different points. Before them, Caleb. Nreshan... meeting him, Having him, finally, helped. You have no idea how much it helped. *wry grin* He was, and is, as delicious as I'd hoped, and more so. He is also, unfortunately, distant, hard to get ahold of, frequently busy, rarely responsive, and frustrating beyond all belief. Torian... I've yet to have here, though I know it will happen. But Torian is female, and not someone I can... casually break? Not the right phrase, it's certainly not casual. I guess you could say I feel protective of her and know that breaking her would cause more harm than good. The last one I truly broke in any sense was Kadin.

Now... now there's Radu, and if you haven't noticed my not-so-slight-at-this-point preoccupation with him you haven't been paying attention. He manages to stay interesting, to stay useful, to stay amusing, even when I expect him to fail. It's quite impressive. And I know I can - and will - break him. I know I'm already part of the way there. And I know that the aftermath of it, as well as the experience itself, will be good. Right. Correct. Delicious. Pick an adjective.

Purge And Repeat

My life goes in patterns. Circles. Always has, always will.

Right now, for example. Right now, as I was then, I'm sitting staring at the tiny box meant to type an entry in, listening to winamp, and thinking about the past. For a while Kadin was almost a replacement for Alex. Then... he was just Kadin. Alex who? *faint smile* He was everything.

I've had people ask me why I'm poly and the main reason is that frankly, I love who I love, when I love, and if that happens to be more than one person at once, ok, that's how it goes. But... part of it... is that all my life I've discovered over and over again how bad an idea it is to let any one person be everything. They can't handle it. Sooner or later, it stops, they're gone, and you're left empty-handed. I got tired of that.

Greedy Girl

It took me a while to be comfortable with the fact that I loved Kadin, and loved Caleb. Two pure submissives, and they were the center of my world, me, the girl who grew up reading Gor novels and still has the urge to switch on occasion. Two slaveboys, and I thought - knew - that without them I would stop wanting to live. At some of the worst points in my life, they were there. At some of the best as well.

Caleb... gods, I can't ever find enough words to describe how much I love him. Even now, knowing he's sitting there near me, knowing I can stand up, tug him off, just curl up with him and pretend nothing else exists, helps. It's what's keeping me from crying, why I haven't had any tears while writing this, though I've come close a few times. I know he's there. I know he loves me. I know he's mine.

For months there's been a hollow place in my heart, something missing, painful, empty. I've talked to Kadin. We've even sort-of-played a couple of times. He says he loves me. I say I love him. I don't doubt that it's truth.

It's just... it's not enough. There's a point where the pain of missing him is only getting worse each time he says it, not better. A point where all the little things, they start adding up. A point where the best thing I can do is just... go.

He's finally got his life on track, a good job, making friends, getting known. Everything he says... it seems like he's got it together, finally. Like he's... happy.

The only time I've actively tried to kill myself since meeting Caleb was after he'd moved down to California, when I was with Ryan... when I had Ryan, and Kadin, and Caleb, and Grr, and Becca, and Nreshan, and Torian, and Nick, and Rhett, and... and I felt complete. Whole.

And I remembered that my life follows those circles. Knew what was ahead, for just a moment I SAW this, saw myself sicker, away from everyone else I know, Kadin gone, Nreshan distant, stressed and frustrated and falling apart. I can remember sitting at Ryan's desk and crying because everything was so wonderful and yet I could see in my head where I would be. And I wanted to die, so I would never have to feel this again, never be here.

Well, here I am.

Here I am.

I'm going to take Kadin back off my messenger lists, off my watch lists, because I know if I don't I'll keep reading, keep trying to talk to him, and it's like when you have a tooth pulled - the only way to get the hole to heal over is to stop poking at it. The only way I'm going to ever be able to get over this, over him, is to just... stop. Now. While I know he's ok, while I know he's safe, while I know he doesn't need me. And just keep believing that.

So. Kadin... you know I love you. If ever things change and for some reason you DO need me, you know my email, my phone numbers, you know how to find me. I won't go looking for you. I promise you, as certainly as I promised to love you, as certainly as I promised to treasure you, I promise you now that I will leave you be. I'll miss you a lot. Being the sadistic person I often am, I hope you'll miss me as well. I... don't have anything else to say.

I'd thought about it, all of yesterday. I'd half-hoped that at least when I wrote this, I'd have someone online I could hurt, someone who I could just... talk... to. Fucking superbowl.

So I'm going to post this, now that I've said it all. I'm going to get a VERY stiff drink. Or three. Or ten. I'm going to go take a hot bath, get quite drunk, and insist that Caleb come be snuggly when I'm done with the bath. I'm going to be ok.

I'm going to remember it all, every moment of it, over and over, until the memories stop hurting, however long that takes. And even then, I'll keep remembering, because the memories are still beautiful.

Iri theunre h'lien, Geoff.

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