Betrayal.

[xunpredictablel]

|Title| Untitled.
|Rating| R

I can't see your heart when it's beating out of your chest. I can only feel its
thump
thump
thump
massacring my sense, my self-esteem.
manipulating my body into something amorphous,
something you can shape erotic, as you so please.

I can't see your heart because my eyes are closed.
If I open them to see us making love against the closet door,
I swear, I'll wretch, throw myself to the ground in an attempt to get your body away from mine.

Sex is sex.
Making love...
Love is only made to a smooth rhythm, eyes open, the frantic necessity gone, bodies bare...
Whispered words... (didn't you teach me that?)

Where did you go?
Your beating heart has made me blind.
I reach out my arms, wanting naught but to fall into you.

But my arms catch only air as my legs give way.

I fall against the cold tile, sobs making my body jerk, writhe-
I've broken my bones.

You knew I was fragile, but you let me fall.

I can't feel your presence, but I feel your consequences thickening the air around me, making it hard to breathe.

And I can't scream- like a dream where something is stolen and I have not the breath to scream.

The terror etched into my eyes.

[Alicia's Ghost]

I'm glad that for all that is going on in your life, you have the option to expunge the pain here. There are other ways to drown out the delusion, and it's something I've been wanting to tell you for some time: I'm glad that when all is said and done, and all the hurts have been exchanged that you choose this form of healing, of lashing out, over some of the others that are readily available. I've done both, and I can't express enough how much it relieves to not see another form of me in you. Strange as this is going to sound (you're allowed to call me a freak and tell me to never say anything this weird again XD) I do believe in you. There's an inherent goodness in you that cannot be smothered by this manifestation of evil.

Which leaves me with this poem, full of hard edges, frazzled fears, reaching out for something, anything, as long as the emotion is shared, as long as the pain isn't alone anymore. This seems to have become a battle, and the battlefield is your body. Who controls which part? How readily you seem to open up to this evil which has begun to pervade your very senses. He's become a stranger to you, a strange man with the same eyes, the same breath, but the touch is different, the heart is different. Or maybe, and this might be worse, it's not him that's changed, but you.

You've sought more than the physical link of joining cock to cunt, and he can't follow the path to it, can't conceive of anything more intimate and so plows you, fucks you without the ability to reach the heart that's bleeding. You're being consumed, that much is painfully clear, and you're drowning in it. The fear and the pain have always been two sides of the same coin, and he's the one who keeps flipping it in his hand for kicks. I think it's time to heal yourself, to cut yourself free of these bonds. Move on. This is not good for you. But I am in no position to lecture you on the badness of staying with a boy who is not your equal, who hurts you without conscious thought.