One of my great flaws is obsession. The pain wrangles my flesh and spirit, causing an intense fixation until it self-annihilates. Nobody has ever been more delusional, preserving hope of a possibility somewhere, all those years. A small possibility that it was more than it was. It just seemed so did it not?

But it is not.

The struggle of acceptance- fighting off the chills and aches of lost hope; "We are on parade for daily battles."

On a bleak random day, the sun will rise and it will not hurt anymore. The memories may remain, but the pain will depart from my bones. Leaving me weary no longer.

I am learning to be gentle.

I am relinquishing my brittleness and abrasiveness.

They never served me.

I was never schooled in the ways of softness.

Nobody showed me how to hold my lover without crushing them.

How to caress their supple flesh without bruising it.

Nobody taught me to voice my sharp-edged feelings out in a bubble wrap.

To say "I am angry" or "I am hurt" or "I am scared" without summoning a lightening strike.

It is one of the hardest things I have to do.

Blood-infused sexuality.