r/EyesOnlyWriting

Note: This is an excerpt from American Dream.

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.(41)

We moved through the hushed corridors of the museum like ghosts escaping a tomb. We were strangers again, or at least people with an unresolved history of past hurts. Although I acted as normal as possible, I was still suspended in a post-traumatic stasis, my nervous system misfiring after a year of operating in safe mode.

I almost felt like I was walking in a dreamstate, it seemed so long since I had seen him, and here he was now, in the flesh; even as he walked beside me with the closeness of his body heat, I kept a careful distance as my body remained a fortress of involuntary tension, a legacy of the island, the psychological and physical torture of the open-air electronic prison, and the calculated withdrawals I had mastered to survive.

As we turned to look at each other from time to time, there was something frighteningly striking in his eyes that conveyed so much emotion; dark, sultry and filled with a tangible fire. His eyes always had a strange power over me to make me sense him even if I wasn’t directly looking at him.

He immediately noticed the tremors in my hands and simply reached out and took my hand, his grip firm and grounding and led me away from the digital flickers of the gallery.

Let’s talk outside, he said, as he led me toward the heavy, analogue silence of the garden in the back entrance.

After walking in silence for a few moments, he finally led me to a familiar reclusive spot, a stone bench tucked beneath the sprawling canopy of ancient trees where the surveillance of the mainland felt, for a moment, like a distant signal. It was a place we had been to before, that same spot on our first date, years ago.

It was a gloriously sunny day outside, the sound of leaves swaying in the wind and birds chirping in the background. No one on the outside who was looking at us would know what had really happened to us.

As we were sitting, the Champion finally spoke, I know about him, [the Soldier]. I saw a scowl of pure, unadulterated fury cross the Champion’s face; a dark flash that mirrored the conflagration I had seen in his eyes across the gallery.

He thought he could just take you from me, his voice vibrating with a low, dangerous frequency. He thought if he pushed hard enough, he could break the connection between us and leave me for dead...

He turned to me, and the weariness in his eyes was replaced by a raw, jagged honesty. He spoke of the months of silence between us as if they were a death sentence. He had fallen into a downward spiral, a descent so steep that he had almost been lost to the void. The weight of his health crisis, coupled with the soul-crushing worry for my safety, had pushed him toward the edge of the abyss. He confessed, with a voice stripped of all heroics, that he had felt suicidal — the rage and the helplessness of knowing I was being held in a world he couldn't reach had nearly extinguished his light.

I never abandoned you, he said, his jaw tight. But I knew how he tried to take you. How he tried to make you believe I was gone.

I sat there, my body still locked in that untrusting state, waiting for a new form of control to begin; but it didn't. Instead, the Champion just held my hand, his thumb tracing slow, steady circles against my skin, waiting for my internal firewalls to lower. Slowly, the architecture of my resistance began to soften. The jagged edges of the past year started to blur against the absolute sincerity of his presence. He noticed the shift; the subtle relaxation of my shoulders, the way my breath finally reached my lungs.

He turned to me, his touch as light as a whisper as he brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. The rage was gone now, replaced by a tenderness so profound it felt like a healing frequency as his shiny, dark eyes bore into the most hidden parts of me.

It’s been a long time, he said, his voice a low anchor in the quiet garden. Too long since we were together… but, I would like for us to try again.

He leaned in closer, his gaze locking onto mine with a vow that bypassed my intellect and spoke directly to my heart.

Tell me what you want, he said softly, whispering in my ear.

After what seemed like an eternity, all the conflicting emotions rearing its complicated head, and attempting to assimilate everything that happened in the past year; I finally answered after a labourious conclusion based purely on intuition.

I answered quietly but definitively, I would like that.

Good, he said, and squeezed my hand.

Then he pressed his head close to mine and said, When I finally make love to you again, I’m going to make sure that you never think about him again… I’m going to make sure that when I kiss you, and am inside you, and as my tongue laps over every wet spot on your body, that you’ll only think of me… you will only remember that you belong to me and that you are mine.

His teeth grazed my earlobe and he looked deeply into my eyes before kissing me gently on the cheek; then he took my hand and kissed it before we got up.

The certainty in his words sent a shiver down my spine. Despite my confused state, I had this strange feeling that I was going to fall in love with him all over again. The trees were still swaying in the breeze but the open air electronic prison didn't just feel far away; it felt irrelevant. The Champion wasn't just reclaiming the territory away from the Soldier; he was restoring my soul.

 

(Footnote 41: Ernest Hemingway; “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places,” is from his 1929 novel, A Farewell to Arms. In the context of the book, it is a reflection on the resilience of the human spirit in the face of the brutality of war and personal loss.)

Gargoyles on rooftop

Weathered into cats

He stands on the side street

As still as a bat

She strides up to him

Pleasant to chat

Her clothes shimmering

Loose shades of jade

Scent of Florentino

Brazenly unafraid

She prattles in floating notes

Entrancing him to sleep

Day turns to night

Florence in black and white

He is the blackness

Infinitely deep

The gate now open

His mansion a keep

She turns on her light

With uncanny sight

Not shuddering a fright

He's not what he seems

Vampyre in dreams

Goth painted lips

Figment of deathly kiss

Smoky mirror puppetry

As if sitting at her vanity

She touches her hair

He sees beauty rare

She catches his look

And laughs in a squeal

Squeaking with joy

A flood of well wishing

Gushing and gushing

Chirping a torrent

She can't even look at him

Squealing well wishes

Paroxysm of delight

Ecstatic plight

"Same to you," he says

We'll meet again one day

He walks away

Darling

Goodnight

Dear,

There is so much love stored in my bones,
love I am rarely given credit for.
Perhaps, if I ever find you,
I will finally have somewhere to place it.
I will give it to you,
all of it,
my love.

Sometimes I wonder about you.
If you will ever become real,
or remain only a silhouette my heart insists on believing in.
Either way, you live within me already,
a fragment of my mind,
a tender piece of my heart.
I promise you that.

I bite my tongue before it betrays me,
and swallow words that were meant to be spoken,
sharp words that cut on their way down.
I hate the taste of that pain.
I truly do, dear.

When I finally find you,
can you be all ears,
and let my weary tongue finally heal?

I crave you more than anything.
I ache for the day you move through me,
lingering the way light lingers on skin at dusk.

And when you finally trace the outline of who I am,
I hope you recognize
that I have been waiting for you
in every restrained breath.
Long before I knew your name.

I know you will be fluent in me.
My love.

Shimmering in the trodden streets of a damned city

As the streetlights drown in the downpour

Of an eyeless goddess

Weeping for what will be lost and forgotten

Just as those who had mistook her mercy

As a repeating example of forgiveness

By taking her eyes, her mouth and her fingers

Let the black miasma of man leak from her eyes

Let your cut tongue roll out of her mouth to swallow

Each blasphemy and cursed individual as her penance for

Allowing us to smile at the great misery

Of our own demise

Let each of her fingers countdown when her wrath will arrive

Let it bloom black dahlias and bless us with divine retribution

We beckon thee to descend to or arise from these sunken streets

And repeat your same folly once more and hope for change

Goddess fallible, forgive us and weep your black tears once more

For when you do, for when your heart aches for our sins

We will never forget you

You will always be there and we will cruelly pray for you

Blindly heed our prayers and accept our deepest desires

As mankind is and always will be… the creation

Even the world wants to kill

We will make sure of Goddess will continue to live

Despite us killing you so long ago

Rot slower and give us your ears this time

It won’t hurt us, we promise

Suffer for and with us

Have us prosper with your love and strength

Goddess whom we never thank

Will you ever come to love us as much as you despise us?

She entered the forest

Seeking elixir of immortality

Silver ankh hanging from her throat

She found him sitting on a rock

Sinistral strum of his guitar

Black hair, dark eyes, pasty white

He knew the secret of what she sought

He pointed to the ankh

"That's an Egyptian Tao cross"

She hid her eyes

Covering her secret self

She told him what she wanted

Hadn't she?

Did he take her for a Joker?

The moon has two faces

She's the one facing

The other Cat faces away

Both seek the Horned Bat

Yes, here is the key

The secret is an apogee

If you can but see

One of two Dreamers

That she be

Ancient pedigree

Persephone

We were walking through the narrow, cobblestone shadows of Tribeca, the city’s frantic noise fading into the heavy, humid hush of the late afternoon. You were wearing that light flowery dress — the fabric was so thin it was a goddamn crime. It didn't hide a thing; it just acted as a taunting invitation.

Every time we stopped, every time I pulled you into the shade of a brick alcove to taste you, my hand found its way to your behind. I wasn’t just holding you; I was claiming you right there in the street. I could feel the searing heat of your skin through that floral print, a pulse-pounding signal that had my blood roaring in my ears.

By the time we stepped into the supermarket, the simple task of picking up a few items for dinner had become a form of exquisite torture. I moved through the aisles with a raging, persistent erection that was impossible to mask; a raw, physical proof of the hours I’d spent pressed against you.

As we stood in the checkout line, the polite mask of being a normal couple was slipping. I wasn't thinking about the groceries; I was thinking about the absolute carnage that was going to happen the second we cleared the threshold of the apartment.

I barely got the door shut behind us. I didn't even let you drop the bags.

I spun you around, shoved you face-first against the wall, and dropped to my knees behind you. No teasing. No warmup. I buried my face in your dripping pussy from behind, tongue fucking into you like a man who’d been starving for months. You cried out, legs shaking instantly as I devoured you, sucking on your clit while two thick fingers drove deep inside you.

The sounds we made were fucking obscene.

When your thighs started trembling too hard to stand, I dragged you to the bedroom, threw you onto the mattress, and followed right after. You tried to climb on top but I flipped you onto your back, hooked your legs over my shoulders, and slammed into you in one savage thrust.

“Fuck!” you screamed, back arching clean off the bed.

I didn’t give you a second to breathe. I fucked you like I was punishing the entire world for ever trying to keep us apart — hard, deep, relentless. The wet slap of my hips against your ass filled the room, your tits bouncing with every greedy stroke.

You came the first time with your nails raking down my back, screaming my name so loud I’m sure the neighbors heard. I just hoped they didn’t call in a noise complaint.

Again. 

I didn’t stop.

I guess we abandoned spy craft. This was playing out more like advanced interrogation techniques. 

I flipped you over, yanked your hips up, and took you from behind like an animal. One hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip. Every thrust was a declaration. 

Mine.

Mine.

Fucking mine.

You came again, harder this time, pussy clenching and gushing around my cock so violently I almost lost it right there. But I wasn’t done. 

We were a starving mess of tangled limbs and half-discarded fabric. The air in the room was thick with the scent of Manhattan heat and our own desperation. I’d spent the last hour in a state of absolute torture, fighting the urge to take you in the middle of a Tribeca sidewalk, and now that we were finally inside, the polite bullshit of patience was dead.

But as the first wave of release finally ebbed, leaving us gasping in the wreckage of the bed, I pulled back just enough to look at you. We were half-clothed, flushed, and the sight of you restricted by that ruined dress was a total failure I couldn't tolerate for one more second.

"Stay still," I rasped. It wasn't a request; it was a deadly promise.

I didn't let you move. I took charge of the reckoning myself. I reached out, my fingers hooking into the collar of that thin fabric, and with one relentless tug, I ripped the dress down the middle. I watched the seams surrender, the floral print fluttering to the floor like butterflies. Then, I tore away every remaining stitch until you were completely, breathtakingly naked.

I stripped off my own gear with the same animal energy, casting it into the shadows until there was nothing left but skin and the truth. For a heartbeat, I just stood there, my eyes tracing every inch of you in the dim light.

I took you by the hand and led you into the walk-in shower. In minutes, the glass was fogged up completely. 
I pressed you to the glass and entered you from behind. I pulled down the handheld shower nozzle and held it between your thighs, the targeted spray hitting you exactly where you needed it.

I bit into your shoulder, my teeth marking you as mine, as we started to grind together in a slow, brutal rhythm. We were a single, moving circuit of energy, our bodies slick with soap and water, sliding and slamming against each other with a desperate, heavy friction.

The sound of the water pounding against the tile was deafening, but it couldn't drown you out. Your moans and sharp, broken whimpers were caught by the bathroom walls, bouncing and echoing off the marble until the air itself felt like it was vibrating with your pleasure. 
Every time I hit you deep, you cried out, the sound amplified by the glass and stone until it was all I could hear.

When we came moments later, the world finally shattered. We collapsed onto the shower floor, the water still raining down on us, my legs shaking and too spent to do anything but hold you against me in the steam.

Somehow, you hopped to your feet near effortlessly and told me to follow you. I mumbled, “You have got to be kidding. I can’t move.” 

You turned the water to cold and directed it right at me. I was cursing and stumbling out of the shower a moment later. 

The ice water killed the steam instantly. You were there with the towels. When you wrapped that heavy fabric around me, I finally got it. The cold wasn't an ending. It was a shock to the heart. A way to drag the life back into my blood.

We dried off in a starving rush. Our skin was flushed, steaming in the cool air. We stood there naked. Pressed together. I forced my heat back into you and took yours in return. I was empty. Drained. I should have been done for the night.

But you took my hand. You pulled me back toward the bed.

The animal in me didn't care about the exhaustion. My body just surrendered.

We hit the mattress. All the polite bullshit was gone. No spy craft. No Tribeca. Just the four corners of this bed. We started again like insatiable animals. Raw. Predatory. I ignored the fatigue. It was a savage accounting. A proof that as long as we’re in this room, I’m yours to break.

I didn't care that I was spent. I didn't care about the sun. I just followed you back into the fire. Ready to burn it all down one more time.

Float, demigod,
tell me.
Tell you what?

-

Tell me of up and down
And about yourself
How do you come about?

-

First, I'm in my cups
And float about
Until the bubbles pop

-

I had to shave
off the stubble, but
Without a horizon
I am in deep troubles.

-

You see I am alive,
haven't gone outside
because I'm tired of floating.

-

You sound like a dead rose
Will you rise again?

-

I may, but I do so alone,
If I survive against the ghost
Perhaps my hopes corporeal.
Subdue the inner criminal,
The flower knows
I'm the rose on the windshield.