Intoxicated

Still I drown in your eyes

Chapter 31

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Char

Up to this point, the dream were all I really had, in essence, to be with him.

Every instant I exclude the attention of his sun-kissed aura or the ambience of peace that settled after I tickled his insides. I can still see the picture perfectly illuminating my imagination but it hurt, indescribably.

It pained every nerve in my body, every part of me. To fathom about how much I yearned for it all to be mine again, not just a synapse in my brain soothing my soul and miserable state.

Take me with you.

But the thing is right now I'm stuck in a film roll of my memories, the scene in that bathroom and I can't for the life of me escape.

I'm stuck at the point where I was being selfish, it was my fault. When I assumed it was my time to leave this world and enter the next.

It irritates me that I'm not even in the slightest fixated on the date he left and disappeared from my grasp. I'm trapped within the interior of the day I lost him and he lost me.

It's almost like a video game, I get given different choices of where the situation could lead; if I make the wrong decision, I die but then I get given another chance.

Its repetition is driving me up the walls and I'm second guessing myself every time the reset button is pressed.

I feel like everything I chose to do would have the same consequence, this theory has already broken the trust I had developed for him within and ongoing in our relationship.

I'm hesitant to let my emotions explode onto this blank page as my cheeks are already stained with wet acidic kisses, I'm scowling at myself for crying at 6 am; when I should be getting dressed so I'm not late, again.

Right now I respectively need to go to the coffee shop down the high street and attempt to do my job; before Terrence stops paying my rent and my Boss stops pitying me with pay cheques.

God bless that man. I'm not really sure I would be able to cope without Terry's golden coated heart.

I promise to myself that I'll try to muster up the courage to write something. I know it's not healthy to think as much as I do. I try and convince myself this, but fail to do so, there's nothing wrong in being proactive with your thinking.

I try and soothe Karen's words amongst my dizzied head, but somehow they sound so much better coming from her, the 'Professional Psychiatrist' as she likes to call herself.

Although it helped that she was one of Mum's people, one of those family friends who you call aunty. Somehow I just wish she could solve this equation for me.

I walked out of the complex, inhaling fresh air that somehow fails to reach the air vents in my apartment.

That reminds me, escaping. I ditched my last appointment with Karen to torment my thoughts a little while longer. Maybe I should call her?

Somehow I speculated to myself that it would be hard to look back, but as soon as I tap my pencil to the leaf of paper lying in front of me, it's almost like I can't for the life of me stop:

03/11/13

Fearfully we interlock our ravenous lips frightened by the exposure of our facial organs spreading into delicate pleasured expressions.

Tenderly I inspect him, longing for our mesmerised trinkets to lock; for the connection of two bodies infatuated with obtaining contract with one another across the mind field of space inches between us.

I explore his eyes for the curious travellers controlling his every notion and reaction, but somehow I lack the courage to really question him.

I hadn't heard the vibrations of your vocal chords in weeks; clueless sentences stammer protruding out of my discouraged shaking voice box but you fiercely block my secluded sound waves from entering with a deafening silence.

Your Adam's apple soul crushingly responds with a definite restraint, almost as if your utterances have been coated by a strait jacket layer.

Gaps between our bodies could be filled with echoing laughter; even so he choose to pull the trigger on the sensation to rekindle the dying bonfire flames eagerly being extinguished by the murdering water droplets escaping your shy tear ducts.

I knew how I would escape your drilling stare, I would be alone, I would be in control and I wouldn't care.

Drip by drip the hazy moments of pleasure soak my lucidity, a breeze of smoke clears my head welcoming nothingness which decorates the empty space where emotion should be furiously stirring.

As I plunge defeated further into the spine-chillingly freezing bath water your presence is executed from any further train of thoughts.

The glistening pools welcomed my skin in an embrace, which I needed.

I needed comforting.

I needed contact, but you had already given up on anything other than your own requirements by then.

Inside the glistening relieving aqua my hair skips to the ripples of gravity; because briefly my pulse maker has been given a long well-deserved siesta, sending me into the mind-set of a peaky faced angel craving one last breath and clothed in a robe of prickly goose bumps.

As I lay with a phase of disbelief submerging my gaze and plastered across my angelic visage; everything appeared so radiant and symmetrical.

I hadn't felt like this for an eternity. I felt freshly bathed from all the sinful soot you had covered me in.

Lazily I switch my body to airplane mode, hoping for a tranquil journey across the bear skyline and far away from you.

You're here next to me -eyes gawping at the lifeless matter floating in a pool of lust that has quickly rotten into depression. My reflection finally enters the back of your mind and the festered emoticon is ripped out into the open, exposed for once.

I wish I could smirk in response to your heart being so vulnerably displayed on your sleeve. I'd spit venom on it if I could and watch it obliterate back into darkness.

But now you've been force to feel something and regret is worn with clarity across your guilty demeanour.

It was almost as if I could watch the scene play out from a narrative perspective: you delicately scooped me out of the freezing water and surged to resuscitate my lifeless body.

I felt genuinely guilty when you started to sob with real hard emotion, I hadn't seen you feel anything in weeks. You rubbed my existence away from the knowledge of your horizon.

I was surprised you even recognised me.

The months we had spent apart now felt like year; you'd age with sadness. It was like you couldn't have pushed the blade deeper into my gut even if you tried.

After wrapping towels around my exposed limp body you continued to breathe life back into me.

I could feel our sudden closeness reviving my spirit and I wanted nothing more than to be back with you. Your eyes shut in finality as you no longer knew what the right thing to do was.

You look so handsome in this upset state, it reminded me of why I was so attracted to you in the first place.

In brief interludes of this moment, you looked so innocent and lost. I wish I could have caressed your face in reassurance that everything would turn out for the better.

You noticed my chest begin to rise and fall, a significant sigh of relief escaped your exasperated mind, I could tell.

You rushed off to phone the paramedic and left me alone, still not conscious. I had no choice other than to just watch the scene play out.

My heart was in my mouth and I was ready to make it up to you, but somehow fate had decided to punish me a while longer.

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