Journals: Moving On

And therefore until you find that soul mate who can penetrate your darkest corners, you will always be mine…

The Wise Vice

Dear,

You desire to get over me, but you rather seem to get at me.

You seek to escape the past that held us close even a million miles apart, but assume the easiest route is to indulge in morbid pleasures. To discover an alternative happiness in sensual intimacy. Hoping that this ephemeral orgasmic wave will quell the melancholy void of my departure. One can perhaps erase the scent of the past on the skin, bathing afresh in the shower of hope. But I’ve never scarred your exposed flesh. I haven’t inflicted scars on your naked frailty. All I’ve sought to hold is the uncupped virgin contours of your soul. And therefore until you find that soul mate who can penetrate your darkest corners, you will always be mine.

An empty cup, but in submission to the identity of my dreams, molded curvaceously in the passion of my love.

Yours…

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