Rigid

He used to touch me constantly.
He made me feel like I was here for a purpose, the way he would caress me, with such care, such love, every breath he took was wet with admiration and desire. We’d sing together in harmony; warmth would spread through my body, across every fibre, firing every receptor, travelling out into the world.
Our energy was so strong the room would literally get warmer, he would start to sweat within minutes, it would take me a little longer to warm up but I don’t think he minded, or even noticed, he was lost in his own pleasure, the same way I would get lost in mine.
When we first started, the way he held me, made my existence worthwhile. I was at peace, I felt loved, needed. I never knew I could be the source of so much happiness.


Sometimes you have to do what it takes to make peace, make living more pleasant.
When she first suggested I go to see someone, I felt trapped, got hot, felt like that old witch that Gretel kicks into the oven, roasting alive. I was basting in my own anger, choking on a lump in my throat. I snapped and released the energy into a wall, and a small smear of blood from my middle knuckle.
I feel violated after my first session, all those personal questions. I wanted to lie, but I guess I was curious to know why I feel the way I did, the way I do, or the way…
Whatever, I feel fucking trapped and lost.
And the bitch didn’t help, ‘How often do you think about it?’
‘How often do you do it?’
‘Do you put it before your family, your job?’ I answered as truthfully as my tongue allowed. She was a nosy bitch who asked too many questions.


Now I sit cold and alone.
When he does touch me it is brief and without love, lust or lingering desire. His touch makes me colder still, his passion, eroded.
Before there was a ‘them’ it was just he, and he was so much happier. We would go out, spend the day together by the beach, out in the world, where everyone could see how happy we were, we would make them jealous, envious of our bond.
I now spend my time dreaming of the day that he lets me go. Let’s me find someone new, someone who can make me feel that way once again, someone who can make the room grow warmer as we harmonize together and use each other mutually to fulfil our needs, to indulge in unbridled passion.


Sitting in the study ignoring both of them. She yells at me for cancelling the sessions.
‘I don’t need them anymore!’ I yell at her.
But she doesn’t buy it, she never does. I am not sure she ever will, maybe she can’t embrace who I am.
She says it has gotten worse and worse over the years. I feel I have compromised more and more, all to appease her and it has done nothing; only hurt my one true love.
My passion, my desire has taken a back seat to what the counsellor deems, ‘Social Convention’ and apparently I cannot deal with my desires appropriately.
I see nothing wrong, but instead of feeling elated, excited, alive! I feel guilty and ashamed; I cannot move on, fighting who I am, for a woman I thought I loved. How can you possibly love another, who is not willing to understand?
I though, am beginning to understand.
What started as lust, and desire for something new, soon turned to love, passion, a craving, an obsession a need to indulge…
Then the pleasure subsided, compulsion moved in and took its place. But when something consumes you, consumes your life and you allow it, you want it, is there really a problem?
Or is it those around you who don’t understand that level of devotion, commitment, that they are not the ones with the problem?




She is gone; I haven’t seen her for a long time.
Which is good, but I feel guilty, although I know it’s not my fault, you cant help how you feel.
He occasionally sees me more and more and I am no longer left alone in a cold room for days or even weeks on end. I am usually at arms reach and I like that, he shows he loves me more and more everyday.
After she left, our time together was brief and awkward, but it soon began to feel comfortable and secure, if somewhat mechanical.
But the underlying passion remains; it is permeable between our souls.
Our love is stronger than I could of dared to ponder when cold and alone, in a weird way I guess I have to thank her for denying us for so long.
His hand reaches across my body.
I resonate to his touch.