There’s never enough.
I have nothing.
I will hurt you.
My language is pain.
My vocabulary is agony.
The voice I speak with is beautiful
because it is yours.
I speak in whimpers,
I speak in gasps,
I speak in screams,
and when your voice fails from hoarseness,
I speak in silent sobs.
I love this way. This is how I love.
Why?
Because I cannot believe that
an angel will love a monster.
I cannot believe that your heart
longs to wrap its warmth and beauty
around something like me.
So I will cut you as you kiss me.
I will rape you as you cry.
I will rip your skin
and fuck you through the wound.
I will draw blood with your milk
as you cradle my head in your slender arms
and hold me to your breast.
This is how I love. This is the only way I can love.
Why?
Because of all the angels,
there is only one that is strong enough,
courageous enough,
powerful enough,
to wade through the fire of my love
and emerge on the other side.
Of all the angels,
there is only one
that will remain
after sacrificing
her everything to me.
Of all the angels,
there is only one
that will accept me,
that will forgive me,
that will eat my sins
and take me inside.
Of all the angels,
there is only one
that can protect me
from myself.
Of all the angels,
there is only one
whose suffering love is stronger
than my starving darkness.
That is why I love like this.
Why?
Because I need to know
if that angel
is you.
{ 19 comments… read them below or add one }
When I watched you walk away yesterday, I knew you took a piece of me with you as well. I won’t feel complete until you come back and return that piece to me. Until you make me whole again, I will wait patiently but every second; Every Second, I will be thinking about our time together.
I will think about how you kissed me on the patio for what seemed like hours. Oh God, your tongue. Your tongue in my mouth, licking my lips. Your hands holding my face still, reminding me all the time so gently that everything is going to be your way. Pleasure or pain, you will decide and I will comply. Your teeth biting my lower lip and being so deep under your spell that I can’t tell whether it hurt or felt good. Your hand petting my hair and caressing my face, ohhhh so soothing. I float off to my happy place when you kiss me like this. I know that I am safe, and loved. When I am in that state and my mouth gets so dry, I can feel your tongue licking my lips to moisten them. Sometimes I can feel you put your finger in my mouth to wet them and then rub them on my lips. Such an act of tenderness and love. Dreamwalker, this is my moment of bliss. This is the space between Heaven and Earth; this is where I fly with you.
As I sit here alone, all I can think of is your delicious torture. I may scream and cry and beg you for mercy at the time, when it’s missing, my body feels numb. I need to feel your touch. I don’t feel without your touch. I am your eager accomplice. I hand you the paddle even though I know I will suffer and scream and kick and cry through each blow. Why? I do it because when I see how turned on you get, how connected you are, how intense your love and passion are, I get so wet and so unbelievably carnal and primal that I feel like I am in heat. My screams are my feral howls for you to come and mount me. Take me, use me and tame me. While I don’t enjoy pain in particular, what I intensely enjoy is that I feel like I am your female and I never have ever in my life felt so unbelievably aroused by anyone as I am you. I have never loved anyone as I love you. I have never lusted as I lust for you. I have never desired anything as I desire your torture. It’s nearing the point for me my love that I am having trouble deciphering pleasure and pain.
As raw and sore and tender as I am right now, all I can think about all day is to hand you the paddle.
I need you to feel my suffering love for you. This is it, I need you to see that I am wading through the fire of your love and emerging on the other side, emerging cleansed and pure in my soul.
That I am sacrificing everything to you, yet I remain at your side, deeply in love and committed to you.
That I accept all of you, not just accept though because I adore all that you are.
If there were something to forgive, I most certainly would forgive you but as I tell you there is nothing to forgive. You are an incredible man, with the biggest most loving and beautiful soul I have ever known.
I will swallow your sins along with my own. Inside me is your home, and I to am home when we connect. You do not need protection from yourself Dreamwalker, you are a protector, certainly not a Monster, more like an Angel. You are my Angel.
My suffering love is most definitely stronger than your starving darkness my beautiful Dreamwalker. You are the light, not the dark. You light my way, you guide me, advise me, comfort me, cherish me, love me and torture me. A lot more light comes in than dark. You light my way through the darkness.
I will shower you in love. I will overwhelm you with love. I will speak to you in your language of love. I will speak to you in whimpers and gasps, screams and sobs. I will inflict myself on you in a way that will take your breath away. We have both traveled long roads, many bumps, but after long journey’s, our paths meet and we have come home. Finally, we are home, both of us. Please don’t take too long to get back here, I need my missing piece to feel complete. I love you.
As Bob Marley once said…..Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.
Your writing is beautiful Dreamwalker, it is music to the soul. After getting to know you through your writing, I imagine there are many different sides to you. I find your writing incredibly honest and erotic. I imagine that you will find this one who will suffer for you, and I am sure she will be a very very lucky girl. The beauty that you write about Mr. Walker, from what I can see, is the beauty inside you.
I am a follower of Oatmeal Girl and because of her have found your amazing writing. I am speechless. I don’t think I have the words to describe how touching your writing is. Thank you so much.
Thanks to Oatmeal Girl I found this post, and it is truly beautiful… And so are all the other posts I read this far… In some inimitable way it means more to me than I could possibly say. Thank you.
Thank you, dear Louise, for saying that. Hearing that I touched you means more to me than I can say. I often wish I could find a way to convey how receiving a comment like yours makes me feel.
A Sadist and a Poet………I think I’m in love
If you are, then we should talk, my dear worm.
You’re a girl, right?
I’m a girl alright.
Nothing against my gay brothers but I’m straight so a statement like that pack a much bigger punch coming from a girl. “Worm” could conceivably be referring to, well, you know…
Dreamwalker, I’m a fan and I hope, a friend of Oatmeal Girl.
I am moved by this, both your writings have similarities though from the opposite sides of the fence.
You are both reacting to your perception of beauty, people who write about beauty with such talent, are, for me, almost irresistible.
Warm hugs,
Paul.
Oatmeal Girl is something else; she writes the way I think. I think the way she writes. It is such a treat to befriend someone who is so much like me and still so very much on the other side of the fence.
I will learn a lot from her.
Thank you so much for your heartfelt comment, Paul.
I read your words this morning.
At breakfast.
With coffee.
In a hurry.
Much too fast.
And they made me feel so much that I said I’ll write you later, I’ll tell you later, I’ll try to pin down later exactly what I felt. So I just read them again. And I cried.
OK, min vän. I’ll try to be dispassionate. This is brilliant. And I recognize it. But from the other side. What you say about your angel wading through the fire and coming out the other side… taking you from the inside… it isn’t exactly what I’ve said, but it reminds me of it. [I just erased some parts that are not for me to say openly. But... you provide a window.]
You got me from the beginning, though. That brilliant, brilliant image of you speaking through her screams. Through her suffering. Through the sounds of her pain.
This is so rich.
There is so much here.
It is beautifully written.
And for those who haven’t given themselves to a man who wants – who needs – their pain, your words are a window into why some of us do.
Thank you so very much.
No, thank you, my new friend that I have known for so long. You know that I admire your writing-style and praise from you means a lot to me.
The beautiful Sin Doll inspired me to write this with her poem Telling My Monster. I just started writing and at the first “Why?” I realized that my subconscious was talking to me through my own words. This is truly why I love the way I do.
I know that there is one woman whose longing to give is greater than my need to take. I know that there is one woman whose suffering love is greater than anything I can muster up.
She will wrap her body and her heart around me and my assault will make her cry and scream in agony yet she will never let go. Instead, she will hold on to me tighter, walking straight into my teeth and my claws and she will assault me right back with irresistible love, with implacable softness, with gentle radiance that burns me to cinders.
And she will be mine.
This is such a beautiful post. You always have an amazing way with words.
Thank you, dearest Gray; it was so good to get to discuss this piece with you over lunch. Time really flew, didn’t it?
I regret not pinching you more; I bet you are always wearing form-fitting pants just to mess with me.
That almost, very nearly, made me cry. Thank you.
Almost? Almost?
I’ll have to work harder next time then, I suppose.
Oh man, please hurt me. What a beautiful post.
The thing is, I only see the promise of the beauty in her heart. That is what I write about and I can’t really take credit for it. If what I write is beautiful, it is because I write about beauty.