‘You’re not married but you won’t sleep with me.’
‘You are married.’
‘That’s my problem.’
‘I’ve done it before and it became my problem.’
‘I fell in love.’
It was a long time ago. It feels like another life until I remember it was my life, like a letter you turn up in your own handwriting, hardly believing what it says.
I loved a woman who was married. She loved me too, and if there had been less love or less marriage I might have escaped. Perhaps no one really does escape.
She wanted me because I was a pool where she drank. I wanted her because she was a lover and a mother all mixed up into one. I wanted her because she was as beautiful as a warm afternoon with the sun on the rocks.
The damage done was colossal.
‘You lost her?’
‘Of course I did.’
‘Have you got over it?’
‘It was a love affair not an assault course.’
‘Love is an assault course.’
‘Some wounds never heal.’
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The Calamitous Glory of Desire
You looked at me with fanciful eyes of possession. Or so I say. Did I look first? Fantastic comments cajoled their way to our pensive lips and incantations of passion mouthed their alluring silences inside my head. And perhaps in yours. … http://www.kosmogonic.wordpress.com