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Best Kind (Nfld part 3)

November 26, 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I saved this for last.

Best kind.

Had to get everything else out first and honestly? The words wouldn’t come.

They didn’t come that night either.

Just a loop.

Boy

Bed

Good

More

Now

Not always in that order.

Sometimes peppered with yes, this.

To be perfectly blunt.

It still is.

I am trying to get my ego to simmer in a downward direction as she is screaming “I want I want I want” in a maddening round with the others.

I kissed him and saw the future in that brief, blissful moment.

 

He was mine for 24 hours, I knew that right away. Or my body did anyways. My mind did catch up, right on time.

I put off writing this because I didn’t want to sully it with facts or details and especially not comparisons.

But, as I have sat at this laptop for 7 days now, and 4000 words have come from my mouth to this place of black and white memories there is one thing that must be said.

I have had sex before.

Never mind the bad stuff.

I’ve had bestial, passionate, raw, might go crazy from the intensity sex. And god it was good.
But there are beasts everywhere and because I am what I am they feel safe to be monsters with me.
The good kind.

I’ve had lightning sex, wherein my body suddenly contains a hurricane. My entire nervous system is lit up and crackling with electricity and my orgasms break the sound barrier and rumble for minutes on end. I become the tides, shorelines breached, swells and crashing waves.

I mourned the first of the two for a very long time. Who wouldn’t?

Then the Last One came and brought the storms with him. I lamented (still do), but with the second strike of lightning in the same place came the realization that if there were two, there must be more. Rare but real. Do you understand?

But this.

This cosmic event that occurred while I was away.

I’ve had a myriad of human experience, I believe in magic, but I’d lost my faith.

It’s been restored.

I have proof of a godlike thing. And if not god, then a heaven.

I have been there.

With a boy I just met, on a white hotel bed, in a place I’d never been.

It was a reunion. Not meeting a stranger.

I understand the idea of compulsion now. My hands flew on their own, my mouth said words I didn’t even think about first and they were the right words. We were magnets, nothing could keep us apart.

I finally got to go home, but again to somewhere buried in my memory. And he had a heartbeat.

So safe and so warm.

I belonged there, with him.

I’ve never been touched like that. Like I was feeling everything beautiful I have ever seen a man do in a movie or read in a book and it was happening to me.

He barely got inside and I had this intense opioid orgasm. First of many. They came like tsunamis.

He was like a drug I forgotten I’d done but used to love and escape to. But no sick, just bliss.

And it wasn’t just me feeling that way. Neither one of us could comprehend what was happening except it was the most right we have ever felt. He kept using the word magic and that’s what it was.

I lost my words.

Found a few.

As I lay next to him, tangled and braided limbs, sated beyond measure I turned to him and said, “Do you think it’s possible our bodies knew it was going to be like this before our minds figured it out?”

He said yes.

I couldn’t stop touching him, even if I’d wanted to and no part of me wanted to stop.

It was the strangest thing.

When we were lying together I didn’t rightly know where my body stopped and his started. When he pulled away I felt like I’d been dipped in ice water and when he came back to me, warmth.

Aurora borealis shooting from our fingers onto the other.

The completion of a circle I didn’t know was broken.

The ecstasy of perfect recognition. (SK)

I am whole on my own, but lying under him, his head on my chest, my arms around him I felt complete.

Like everything was right in the world because we had found each other again.

Caim: sanctuary, an invisible circle of protection drawn around the body with the hand, to remind someone of being safe and loved…

Except it wasn’t invisible. He was flesh and blood and beautiful.

After, we both had a hard time being apart. He went into the woods and I got drunk.
I cried the whole way home.

“It’s having a thing and losing it that’ll kill ya.” Cold Mountain. Said by a blind man when asked what he would give for 5 minutes of sight.

I wouldn’t give a red cent for 5 minutes with him. I would carry a sense of incomplete and loss that I couldn’t ever explain. I’d be forever thinking I left the oven on or something was wrong.

But a day? A whole day with him, feeling him, being IN those moments, having him inside me. Was like being blind and seeing for the first time. Like being asleep and waking up, or more like a euphoric waking dream.

I paid dearly for him before we even met, I know this and I would gladly pay it again.

I think he was put there to remind me that there are miracles. That I haven’t experienced everything yet.

There’s a book series I love and there’s a phrase that gets repeated often
“There will be water if god wills it”.
(Stephen King, Gunslinger)

I’m okay with the idea that I got one perfect day on earth. Sustained happiness and contentment for 24 hours.

If that’s all it was then I am grateful.

He was a gift.

It’s hard not to go running back. I’m sure it’s hard to quit heroin too.

Same same.

He messaged me drunk and said he was coming for me.

I feel like a racehorse at the gate trying not to break into a run back to him.
All straining muscles, I was built for this.

But I won’t. Not yet.

I soothe him like honey and he makes me feel like home.

I’ve lived long enough to know everything is possible. My open, yet tiny, human brain has no idea of all there is.

But I’d forgotten that.

I am 43 years old and the universe gifted me with a reminder.

In the form of a beautiful boy with absinthe eyes.

 

 

 

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2 Comments

  • Reply Robert Wertzler November 26, 2017 at 1:36 pm

    There is a magic in those words and actions that just happen, without forethought, intent, or censorship that can only happen within that circle of safety, on a kind of sacred ground, in the freedom to just BE and love without thought of consequence, or reservation, or “What will people say?”.

    In “The Rhyme Of The Ancient Mariner” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, a very long poem, there is a passage, about in the middle and the pivot point of the tale, that begins “Beyond the shadow of the ship” and ends “the Albatross fell off, and sank like lead into the sea.”

    Along the way in this story of yours, I think I heard a splash.

  • Reply Rishell Graves November 26, 2017 at 9:28 pm

    this is such a breathtaking account of the meeting of two souls…..a true gift from the universe.
    thank you for sharing it in your beautiful way.

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