“There can be no peace of mind in love, since what one has obtained is never anything but a starting point for further desires.” ~Marcel Proust (1871-1922)
Our love affair began innocently enough at the dawn of adulthood for the both of us.
Igniting a flame of friendship that burned fiercely into a blaze of passion for nearly two decades. Time and circumstance led us on divergent paths, but the fire never diminished.
Despite the darkness of our lives and the distance that had grown between us, the intensity never dimmed. In fact, the realities in which we lived merely served as an accelerant that preserved our flame and nurtured our feelings for each other. Until it burned like coals, no longer light and flickering, but deep and unquenchable.
The heat of passion unwavering against the night, pushing out against the cold of loneliness, drawing us closer together and leading us to become one.
A simple touch was all it took for me to etch my name on your skin. Invisible ink from my fingers bled into your soul, and I never forgot the way you felt and quivered beneath my touch.
You later trapped the poetry I wrote on your flesh with tattoos that concealed our secrets. Years would pass before I’d touch you again, only this time I penned a love letter on the inner walls of your heart.
And you too, inscribed your affections on me. Searing my skin with kisses and a caress that leaves me longing for you. Your lips drank from the well of my soul, and your body lured me into the depths of your secret chamber that belongs to me and no one else.
In your absence, I roam the universe without a star. In your presence, I yearn for the embrace that reminds me of where I belong. In the silence, I ache for you to the point of being a broken soul.
My heartbeat falters, my breathing is shallow, my will to live fades, but the fire of love and passion burns deep, fueled by the desire you ignited.