Tenses (The Smoking Gun)

I laid there.  Reflecting on myself . On us. I was staring into the closed eyes of a mass murderer. I had invited the villain back into my home and now she lies in my bed.  I was afraid to close my eyes.  My car, fresh air, doors, my weapons, above all her face, her moans, and the void that was out love all reminded me of him.. them.  How something I meant so much too had copied and pasted that solidity in another man. Been with me through him and him through me.

I was used.

After chasing the devil down the halls of her womanhood got old. I resorted to watching him cower behind her eyes. I became a monster that even the devil had no choice but to bow down to. Numb, cold, heartless… I laid there and stared at the soul of the woman with the closed eyes and I was scared. I was scared by the nothingness I felt. The void. The ride was over and the spark had savagely clawed its way from our kisses scarring every part of my soul that it came in contact with. I stared and attempted to intentionally bring pain to myself, and it didn’t hurt anymore. It turned me on. Like I was watching 2 strangers go at it. Bring each other to ultimate ecstasy. I gripped, and I drifted with closed eyes, cold hands, warm ears and an erect penis.

 What happened next frightened me. I was surrounded by an audience and this woman’s eyes had opened and her soul was beautiful, her eyes even more so. She stood there like an exotic goddess. Her hair flowed at the winds slightest blow, she seemed to float instead of walk. I was intimidated by her beauty, but I  embraced it as my own. When she leaned out to touch my face I felt every positive emotion you can think of. I was overwhelmed and tears began to flow. I felt something. She made me feel something. She had become my Island of reality in what had become the constant sea of bullshit.

From her touch I had shared all my secrets and she shared hers. Not a word was spoken, but we went together. Flowed off the tongue like Barack Obama. Perfectly in tune with one another. The spectators watched in envy. Some in total awe as we had fallen victim to love at first sight, been soul mates, and got old and died together in one touch. She was all I ever dreamed. She completed my sentences and relieved my tenses. She was love in the human form to the 4^th power times infinity. Most of all she knew the severity of protecting my heart and accepted all of me.  And I…

 Well, I woke up. Sexually relieved and deeply frustrated that my dream had come to past. This woman was real, the realness of the tears on my cheek had reassured me of that. I had felt. The devil could taunt me no more. The knife in my back had become a part of me. As natural as the hair on my head. And for a moment someone had accepted me, knife and all.  And I accepted her. All the while staring into the soul of the woman with her eyes closed.

 A cold sweat had forced its way into my presence. A dream chaser. I wanted to live that dream.  To permanently be in the presence of that Angel. The cold bathroom floor had become a  suitable resting place, and my Springfield XD-9a suitable sleep aid. 2 pounds of trigger pressure had reunited me with my new love and left my neglector a smoking gun.