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Author Archives: Ajay Vyas

About Ajay Vyas

A self-proclaimed wild child with an inquisitive mind. I lead with my heart and allow life to follow. I'm a realist and a dreamer. A lackadaisical perfectionist. One of the 'crazy' ones. My life is organised chaos, driven by a sense of purpose. The Love Relished with ink  is my creative outlet and a platform through which I hope to learn more, raise awareness, inspire change and broaden perceptions. An unconventional blend of mindful living with a spicy twist of the taboo, LRI  is thought-provoking and encourages a journey to and through our higher Self. Intoxicated by a mesmorising sense of unraveling, I invite you to open your mind and your heart on the journey to leading a more mindful and abundant life. I Write about relationships. Something which happens in our everyday life. A keen observer of human emotions I feel them myself as I pour the words on paper. The readers connect with emotions which they feel in their heart. Blogging is my second nature and I love opening myself through my blogs. Happy reading. I have done my Enggineering in Electronics and communication .Completed my MBA in Banking and Insurance from Panjab University ,Chandhigarh. Presntly working in ESAF Small Finance Bank as a Senior Manager . I love travelling beside it ,Love to intract with people and to know about them and learn from them.Love to study about diffrent cultures and history behind it . Connect with me to know more about me . U can also follow me on instagram -Nodoubt_complicated Twitter -@aj14vyas

When Two Damaged People Love Each Other

These are the ways we love each other.

We are sitting in the same room, not talking. You are playing video games and killing dark things on screen, whilst I am writing away every violent memory that has crept through my mind in the last ten minutes. There is no pressure of conversation. There is no necessity in this. It is simply being and we are both dealing with our demons in our own ways. The difference is, we understand that – without talking about it.

We are leaving a restaurant in the middle of Delhi (C.P), after a beautiful day and I see her, the girl who haunts my memories. My whole body withers in fear and as you look up in her direction, she is gone like she was never there, just a memory. You wrap your arm around me as we walk, not asking any questions just understanding. Later, Facebook reminds you of a memory you would much rather forget, and as I pull you close into a hug, I can feel the storm shaking inside your body.

We are in a Doctor’s office and you’re silent. I know how much you hate it here and how everything about this place makes you need to hold the broken pieces of you together even more fiercely. I touch your hand and you look up at me, lost, then look away again. The silence isn’t the problem. The memories are, and it takes someone who hates being in this room as much as you do understanding that. You say to me “I’m sorry I brought you with me.” I smile and squeeze your hand tight. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I didn’t fall in love with you because you were perfect. I fell in love with you because you were so honest and you never ever hid your damage.

We are lying in bed, both wide awake, not sleeping. Caught between nightmares and the moon, the Sandman has forgotten us completely. After a while of restless shifting, you get up and go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I stay in bed and watch the ghosts of our pasts shift in our bed, waiting for you to return. When you do, we chase them away with a midnight film – an old black and white movie. We both know that getting up tomorrow is going to be a pain, that we will be exhausted at work – but there is no fighting insomnia when it is immersed in our bodies so deeply.

Some days, we look at each other like we are about to say something and then stop – almost as if the clock in our heads have told us not to speak about it yet. The difference is, there is no pressure to speak about it until we are ready.

You see, the way we love is different because we are broken. Whilst others love in flowers and songs and conversation, we love in silence and helping each other pick up the pieces. Our love is a quiet journey in healing. Our love is where we wait for the other to fix themselves and help them grow slowly.

You see, we are damaged, so we love a bit differently. These ways in which we say ‘I love you’ aren’t perfect. But they are balm for healing, a balm for dark memories.

You once asked me, “How can you love something as broken and damaged and unhinged as me?”

It’s easy, my darling, you are damaged and broken and unhinged. But so are shooting stars and comets.

 
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Posted by on March 7, 2020 in random thoughts

 

Reach For You


It’s the middle of the night and that anxious feeling is eating a hole through my stomach- it’s as if all the trauma of the world are just echoes of my own trauma, and I don’t know how any of this can be ok. I want to reach out to you, but I don’t want to rob you of the precious reprieve that is sleep- in slumber we’re all safe from the horrors that lurk around every corner, and haunt the doorways of every door. Tonight my heart is pounding, breaking, fading, and I don’t want to be a burden to you. But I tentatively reach out and find you are there, like you always are. You’re a safe place where I can put down all my anguish, you’re loving arms where I can rest. But sometimes I find it hard to believe that it won’t all disappear. If life has taught me anything, it’s that nothing can be trusted. I stomp down on you to make sure you’re solid- you don’t budge one bit, but you bleed and silent tears find their way to your chin. And I’m sorry, you know, I’m so sorry. My fence-checking is brutal. I have no excuse. I seem to hurt what I love to make sure it’s safe and solid. Like taking a bat to a tank just to make sure. I know that I’ve done the wrong thing- I always wear my mistakes openly. I don’t shy away from what is my responsibility to claim and rectify. And you know, if I could take it back, I would. But somehow you seem to understand. You wear scars of a similar design, only you never sink to dark places- you simply trust I am solid because I say so. But I’m the tester. I’m the deplorable checker. I’m the one who can’t believe in the ground beneath my feet or the air in my lungs, without proof. I’m the inexcusable. I’m the trauma-coated dry wall with a hole punched in it. And you’re…
Simply tender. Effortlessly loving. I wish I could be more like you. But sometimes I find myself crouched in the shadows, snarling at things that aren’t there. And how am I supposed to trust that I feel loved, when I’m not even sure what that’s like. How do I prepare myself for ruin, if my guards come down all the way. Even the broken pieces are broken, and there’s not much left to salvage. But what there is, is all that I have.How can I believe you won’t turn these broken shards to dust, and just leave me hollowed-out? I have always fled before it could reach that bitter point upon the horizon. I’m a runner with soles worn all the way through. And now you’re asking me to take off my running shoes, and stay in one place with you. And you know, I think I could, stay. With you. But I’m not really sure what that would be like, but I know what I see in my mind’s eye. It could be beautiful, if I could trust in it. And my trust is expensive and rare. I just need your soul in exchange. Nothing more. I promise.
I wake to find anxiousness feasting on my guts, and you know, I didn’t want to be a burden. But I reached out for you to find you were there. Whenever I reach out for you, you are there. Now if only you could do that, unfailing, forever. I might begin to believe that you’re not going anywhere. But when I call to you, you answer. When I reach out for you, you are there. I’m trying not to runaway, but it feels so safe to disappear…

 
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Posted by on March 5, 2020 in random thoughts

 

Love me in a paragraph,I will reply you in novel

You are my love story
and when the world collapses around me
I want to get lost in your arms
like in the pages of a book
and I want to be your hero,
want to explore
all of the scenarios of our own book
and I want to live through the prologue
right up to the end.
In the chapters of my body
I want to tell you the story of true love
as through you all of my fantasies become reality.
My love, together we will determine
the contents of the book
and only with each other
our story will end happily.
My darling, you will be the author and heroine
and I will be the hero
in our one intriguing story
while the end is still to be written
and love is like having popcorn-moments:
where we must first go through the fire
before our story can really qualify
as a real love
as there need to be a little romance,
some tragedy,
lots of happy moments,
some misfortune,
times of prosperity,
at times a bit of unhappiness
to appreciate times of joy
and some misunderstandings to know each other better
and a lot of passion
to find beautiful moments
and lots of making-up, my love,
to determine the outcome
of this blockbuster a love story.

 
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Posted by on February 22, 2020 in random thoughts

 

The feelings you ignite in me

It’d been a little while since I’d seen you. I had been counting down the weeks, then the days, and then the hours until I saw you again. There was a jittery feeling inside my stomach as I wondered if we would feel the same as we did the last time we saw each other. But the moment I saw your face all those worries washed away, replaced by happiness and excitement. You were here with me again! In the flesh! I could see you smile and enjoy being in your presence. I was an ocean of different feelings all tumbling about; nervous, excited, scared, grateful, shy…and many other things. But one of the feelings that kept resurfacing over and over again was a hungry, almost-painful need to be physically close to you. I needed to be alone with you. Locked away in a bedroom, together, between sheets…
My face felt warm at the thought. My heart began to quicken at the mental imagery dancing through my mind. I couldn’t help it- I’d never in my life experienced such an intense and overwhelming blend of physical and emotional attraction. And even though our hearts were enmeshed, our bodies had yet to follow. The butterflies flitted madly in my stomach and I briefly wondered if I would even be able to work up the courage to take you to bed. Maybe another visit…maybe another time…
And then you kissed me- slow and smoldering, soft and hungry, deep and delicious. I knew then that I’d battle through my nerves- whatever that meant. I’d peel out of my clothes with shaky hands and a feeling of light-headless if I had to. But I couldn’t let you leave again without your sweet scent being absorbed by the pores of my skin, leaving me bathed in your fragrance; the remnants of being claimed by you. You couldn’t leave without making me yours through a carnal take-over. There’s a sort of branding that comes with physical intimacy: enmeshed hearts are validated; love pours onto the sheets and echoes through the heat-filled room. Energy intertwines and the outside world sees the glow of unification between the two. And so, it wasn’t a mere want. It was a need. I needed to have you and be had by you. But I was scared.You make me nervous. I feel green and new and unsure- as if all my experience and knowledge and skill never existed. As if I were approaching you as a virgin- this thought amused me and I found my lips curved up in one corner, in a smirk, at my own idiocy. I am not a trembling virgin approaching the big, scary unknown. I am more of a little vixen with a tongue of gold and deft fingers to match. But under the heat of your blue-eyed gaze I am a trembling lamb. I am unsure of myself, doubting my skills, doubting my ability to please you. Doubting that you will really want the landscape under my clothes. I draw in a shaky breath and I feel a little queasy. I half-laugh, and for a brief moment I can clearly see how ridiculous I am being. But then the fear rushes in again. But I want you. I want you so terribly it’s all I can think about. But my nervousness is relentless and I come to fear the moment when we’re alone, when the sheets are waiting patiently to drink up our love. When you’ll finally see me stripped bare, of everything. The moment finally comes when we are alone, behind a closed and locked door. Daylight is right outside the blind, but we hold each other without the lights on. There’s plenty of light in this room and there will be no hiding- I briefly entertain the idea of chickening-out. Of waiting until another time. But we kiss, it’s a kiss that moves electricity down my body and makes the insides of my thighs warm and wet. You suck my tongue into your mouth and I moan softly, melting into this sensuous moment. I’m still nervous but the intensity of the feeling is muted by the ravenous hunger I feel for your touch. Our lips and tongues dance in a lustful assault and I sigh with relief as your fingers make their way down my body; where their wet and wanting target is dying to be hit. A thrill moves through me as your fingers move past the waistband of my underwear and slip downwards, meeting with the slickness there. My knees obediently draw apart, granting your fingers easier access.I quietly suck in a tiny, sharp breath of surprise when you push your way inside of me, and it feels so good it’s all I can do not to steal control and push myself down on you, taking you deeper inside of me. The butterflies in my stomach seem to have icy-razor wings and somehow the fear and nerves collide with lustful wanting, making for an overwhelming inner-climate. But I don’t want you to stop. I might die if you stop. My head swims in sheer pleasure as your skillful fingers feed the hungry mouth between my parted thighs. I could let you fuck me like this until I soak your fingers in cum, but this is only the warm up. This is only the beginning and my skin is already warm, I can already feel my heart pulsing wildly in my throat. I’m already soaking wet and desperate to cum from the sensation of you inside me-the sensation your skillful fingers easily demand of my body. My mouth opens to give up a little cry, and then your fingers suddenly retreat. I feel you pull out of me, and it leaves me desperate and wanting. Our eyes meet and I see a hungry look on your face that makes the insides of my thighs impossibly more wet- you’re going to fuck me until I cum on your mouth- I can see the promise burning in your eyes. Your soft, pillowy lips travel down my stomach in a straight line- my head swims and nervousness awakens the razor-winged butterflies in my belly. I’m scared again. But I’ve been made too wet and too hot to care. I see your face move between my thighs. I moan and close my eyes as I feel your fingers push into me again-I welcome them, swallowing your fingers deeply into my starving core. Your fingers work me with expert skill and I swim in pure pleasure which begins to grow steadily. Suddenly your tongue invites itself to the sweet slaughter going down between my open legs. I want to cry out but the sound is choked and gagged by the sensations taking me over. Your tongue skillfully assaults the little bud atop the slick lips your fingers are feeding, and the serpentine movements of your tongue give the hot little bud a heartbeat all of its own.begin to climb the ladder of pleasure quickly, more quickly than I want to. My fingers claw into the sheets in white-knuckled fists, my toes curl and my knees want to snap together like a sprung trap. My body trembles as a ferocious pleasure tears through me, rushing through the layers of all that I am, consuming me like an invisible fire. And then, just as quick as it came, it’s gone. I’m suddenly wrung-out, spent, shaky, weak. Fragile. You move up from between my thighs and come to rest at my side, you lean in towards me and we kiss. I taste my sex on your lips and it fills me with the desire to have my own taste of you. I want my mouth soaked in your sex. I want your taste on my tongue, I want to swallow your desire for me down my throat. My fingers do not savour you as yours savoured me- my tongue is impatient and watering for your taste. I find myself kneeling before your parted knees and I sit back, tying my hair up in itself while I admire the pretty pink place between your inner thighs, the place my tongue so badly wants to be. I lay on my stomach and move my face between your thighs like a man dying of thirst before an oasis. A little moan escapes from the back of my throat as I taste you, but it’s not enough, I want to be inside you too. My fingers push inside you, taken in a choking grip and I look up to read your face, so I can make sure I’m not hurting you. But your fingers claw through my hair and I can hear your cries and feel your hips roll in to meet my movements. I close my eyes and I’ve found pure, hot, unadulterated Elysium. I want to stay here forever with your sex coating my fingers and tongue. I want to live between your thighs, I want my face to be the place where your carnal hunger is satiated.I moan from the back of my throat as my fingers and tongue work on you. I feel your grip on the roots of my hair tighten, you pull my face in closer, shoving me deeply between your legs, and I take my cue and pick up my pace; harder, faster, but consistent rhythm. Your thighs close in around my head and you cry out- the sound ripples through me and I know it’s a sound I want to hear over and over and over again, for the rest of my life. I pull myself away from the heaven between your legs, and I come to lay beside you- we come in close together and we are a mess of interlocking arms and legs. We hold each other in the sweet after-moments as our heart rates begin to calm, and we bask in the glory and intensity of the connection we share; this unusual bond that moves through the unseen dimension, ploughing madly into the physical. I lay with you in my arms and I know I love you with my whole being. I know you are the one. I know that physical love of this kind cannot happen where the hearts and soul haven’t met. And we have met- our hearts and souls are well-known to each other, our bodies simply needed to catch up. I close my eyes and breathe you in, and I am drowning happily in an ocean of love and gratitude. The feel of your bare skin against mine is sensuous and soon I am wanting you again. I lay with you in my arms, your sweet scent and your nakedness intoxicate me. The pink peaks atop my heavy breasts harden painfully and the place between my thighs is already hot and wet again, my wanting for you slick on the insides of my thighs. I look at you and the love I feel is so intensely overwhelming, the overflow turns physical, and I want to make love to you. But my sudden hunger for you is ferocious and urgent, it steals the sweetness away, replacing it with a carnal desire- and I know that when I touch you again, it won’t be sweet- I’m going to fuck you like I’m branding you. Because you’re mine. And these are the feelings that you ignite in me…

Drop Your Feedback as writing after so long now 😃

 
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Posted by on February 21, 2020 in random thoughts

 

The Storm

A moody disposition. Deep, penetrating eyes of obsidian that rage with silent hell-fire. Powerful and sky-sweeping. Strong and guarded. Damaged and broken.
He is the man who desperately wants to be a father, but who never goes anywhere without a rubber in his pocket.
He is the man who wants to love and be loved, but pain is all he knows.
He is the cold and unfeeling creature that eats up pretty things and spits their bones onto the cold, tiled floor before daybreak.
He is a hunter that doesn’t need to hunt. His prey lay themselves at his feat, begging to be devoured.
He is the man who can have whatever he wants, but only truly desires what doesn’t want him.
He is a memory fading quickly.
He’s a body to be buried.
He is a trauma to suppress.
He is just Storm to me. But a God to everyone else.
They say he didn’t quite recover. That for a long time the only snacks he brought home to munch on were blondes with heads that didn’t clear his shoulder.
They said he gave his liver the work-out of a lifetime, and corroded the lining of his stomach.
They say he couldn’t sleep in his own bed for months…
They say.
But who the fuck are they? Who are they to say?
He is the man still fighting with a dead man. His father’s ghost hangs in the corner of every room.
He doesn’t drink to drown his demons. He drinks to let them loose so he can have a break. His body is a temple, but inside there are sights that will make you turn away. There are things there you’re not allowed to see.
But I caught glimpses. His father’s ghost held me down against my will and stole a part of me.
My body was another playground, until a Storm arrived, leaving the ground soaked in blood and regret.

 Storm is black ink down the back of my throat that I am trying to cough up.
Storm is a nightmare wrapped in a dream, encased in a nightmare, cocooned in cobwebs from the past.
He is obsessed with hygiene, but leaves a mess everywhere he goes and on everyone he touches.
From the outside, he looks just like another pair of combat boots, walking the pavement of a Garrison city.
He is strong but fragile- splintering without warning. Spun glass that looks like titanium.
He is a battle hardened knight that would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat for you. Just because.
He is disappointed and confused.
He is healing, far away.
He is the subject that I’m ready to put down now.
He’s a dappled dream that I gently lay to rest.
Who the fuck is Storm?
Honestly, I don’t know anymore…

 
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Posted by on February 20, 2020 in random thoughts

 

सुनो जान

सुनो जान

चेहरे को दोनों हाथों से थामकर पहला चुंबन माथे पर देकर मैं देर तक चेहरा ही तकता रहा तुम्हारा।
कुछ कहना चाहता था मैं किन्तु तुम्हारे लिए अलंकार नहीं बचे थे पास मेरे। शब्द पीछे होकर रह गए थे, नज़र टकटकी लगाए जम गई थी उस पल।
माथे से सरककर मेरे होंठ तुम्हारी गहरी आँखों पर आए जबकि मैं आँखों की तारीफ करना चाहते हुए भी ना कर पाया और छोड़ दिए नयनों पर होंठों पर लगे‌ सुर्ख लाल के निशान।

मैं सिहर गया था हमारे अधरों के टकराने पर जब तक कुछ संभल पाता तब तक तुम्हारा चेहरा मेरे सीने पर अपने होने को साबित कर चुका था।

चेहरे पर मेरे रंग की तरह जमे हो तुम। मेरा सांवला तुम्हारा गेंहू आ मिलकर कुछ तीसरा गढ़ देता है जो उगते सूरज की लालिमा सी रंगत मुझे दे जाता है। रंगत ये तुमसे ही है। तुम्हारी आँखों में काजल से लगे हो, काजल का काला और आँखों का धूसर मिलकर एक तीसरा रंग रंगता है, ।  होंठो के नीचे  काले तिल के रूप में बैठे हो, दूसरों की सीधी नज़रों को आने से रोकने के लिए। 

मेरी उंगलियाँ तुम्हारे बालों में अटक कर उस पल को वहीं रोक कर दुनिया के रुक जाने का एहसास देती हैं। दुनिया का रुक जाना कोई कम बात तो नहीं। इन पलों में मेरे बोलने से तुम्हें सख़्त ऐतराज़ है, ‘क्यों बोलती हो? क्यों कम कर रही हो इन पलों को अपने शब्दों से? मेरे साथ बहो बस कुछ बोलो मत।”

मेरे सीने पर धरा तुम्हारा चेहरा दुनिया की तमाम चाहतों और सुकून को चिढ़ाता हुआ मुझे किसी फ़रिश्ते को अपने आगोश में लेकर सोने के मखमली एहसास से लबरेज़ कर देता है। तुम्हारें हाथों में सिमटा मेरा चेहरा… ना, इस एहसास को अनकहा रहने दो।

कितने अलंकार रहते हैं मेरे  तुम्हारे पास मेरे लिए जबकि मेरे पास तुम्हें प्यार करते रहने के अलावा और कोई अतिशयोक्ति ही नहीं ।

 
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Posted by on February 15, 2020 in random thoughts

 

An Atrocious Mess

Why can’t you just disappear? Fade into my distant memories until you sink into the deep recesses of my subconscious, lost to the darkness there. I have let you go a thousand times, and a thousand times you’ve re-emerged, haunting in the echoes of my heart, a ghost to the empty space you’ve carved out there. Every time I place these feelings down, they reinfect me like a relentless disease, taking over and making a home inside of me. Making me sick and numb. I want to be free of you and the pain you always cause, but every time you come back I welcome you with open arms. And I swear to myself it’ll never happen again, but every time…
Every time…
and around we go in this vicious cycle, your door into my life is ever-revolving, ever-disruptive, ever-promising me a fresh wound to keep as a memento of your brief stay. I try to bury you and walk away, but you’re a secret weakness of mine. I’ve only spoken the truth out loud once or twice, it’s hard to hear myself say the words, but it’s true, and it will always be true, there’s something in me that always calls for you, feels for you, bleeds for you.
You’re a beautiful nightmare, soaking me to the bone in glorious, horrific, carmine-red. You’re as beautiful as you are terrible, and the landscape of my feelings for you follows your theme- I feel the aching of deep connection, and the wounding of separation. You’re a pleasure and an agony, a duality I can no longer bear. You crash into my life like a storm bringing rain to parched land, and you don’t leave until there’s flooding chaos, and everything I hoped for us drowns and is swept away.
I want to be friends… but we can’t…I want to be lovers…but we can’t…I want to be strangers…but you can’t. So what are we to do? I want you as much as ever. And I want you to stay away for good. Why can’t you just taper away like a bitter winter and let me enjoy the sweetness and newness of spring? Maybe it’s because in my heart of hearts I’ve never been fond of the sunshine- I like the magic and mystery of a world blanketed in overcast-grey.
But I think to myself often…If we could just strike a balance or learn to speak the language of the other’s heart, maybe we could survive one another. But we’ve tried, we’ve tried a thousand times, and it always ends the same. We always end the same. So I nurse you in the secret, aching places that reside in me, places no one could ever find or guess at. I refuse to speak out loud what hides in me. I let you go outwardly, but I hold you in places so deep I’ll never be truly free of you.
What do you get when you cross a fucked-up soldier with a fucked-up mermaid?
What do you get?
This…

 
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Posted by on November 9, 2019 in random thoughts

 

As He Explained It

How did we get here? One night, through a mutual friend, a chance meeting in town. And now look at us, we’re here. In this mess. This mess you put us in. This mess your body put us in. You sit there on the floor, on your knees, like a good girl, waiting for instructions from your Sir. Tonight I’m going to hurt you. I’m going to shove you right up against the limits of what you can take and then push you a little further. Maybe it’s to punish you for not wanting me. I look down into your blue eyes, those expectant eyes, those trusting eyes, and I know you don’t have a clue what you’ve put me through. Your rejection has destroyed me. It has emasculated me. It’s fucked with my head and corroded my confidence. You have no idea what I’ve done for you- the lengths I’ve gone to to change for you and be better for you so you’ll want me. Still, you don’t want me. What the fuck do you want? Why do you keep coming back if it’s not me you want? If its dick you’re after, there’s dick closer to home. So what’s this about? Is it the rush I give you? Is it because, unlike the others, I’m not afraid to hurt you? They’re too gentle with you aren’t they? They treat you like a princess don’t they? You hate that shit. Because you’re a slave to your desires. Because you like it rough. No; you need. You fucking need it rough. Do they know that? Do they know how you need to cry out until you can’t cry out any more? You need that sweet release that only pain can bring. But they’re too afraid, aren’t they? Thinking you’re more fragile than you really are. But I know the truth- you’re cold and steely. You’re a kitten on the outside, but wires and gears on the inside. Aren’t you? Mostly, at least. Every now and then I see the softness you desperately try to hide. Every now and then I get a taste of it before it’s snatched away, hidden from me. You like to punish my kind don’t you? You like to punish us by denying us your sweetness, your softness. You don’t trust us. You never fully give of yourself. You never melt under my touch, and I fucking hate that about you.
Why won’t you submit in the way that I want you to? I look down at you now and I see you’re frustrated- tonight I’ve toyed with you, denied you what you want. But now you’re sick of the build-up. You just want the grand finale so you can go home. Now you want dick. Now you want to cum. Get on, get off, get dressed, get out, go. But if I can’t have what I want, neither can you. But there’s other reasons…
“You’re not going to touch me are you?” You ask. I’m a dick so I touch my fingertips to your shoulder. “I am touching you?”. You’re Instantly annoyed. You get so bitchy when you’re frustrated but it’s funny. I’d never say it to your face but. You’d get so fucking angry…
“You haven’t touched me properly the last two times that I’ve seen you…” you complain to me.
Your eyes are sad. You look like you might cry and it gets to me. As much as you’ve hurt me, I hate to see you hurting. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just, I can’t…”
You look away. You’re trying hard not to cry. “Do I turn you off?” You ask without looking at me. I say no, when I really mean yes. I want to fuck you but I can’t. It makes me sick thinking about it. I know it’s me and my own hang up, but everything is different now. Now I think of your body as a graveyard-instead of my playground-and I don’t want to visit that. I don’t want to be inside of that. But I miss you. I miss that. But you fucking lied to me. You lied by omission and now I’m supposed to pretend everything is like it was? It’s not. It’s different now. You get up and collect your clothes. I watch you dress and I can’t let you just leave like this. I stop you and pull you over to the bed. I don’t know how to tell you how I feel or how angry or hurt I am. And I feel stupid even admitting to it. So I just kiss you instead. Deep and hungry. I kiss you until I’m more turned on than sickened by the place between your thighs. I kiss you until I’m ready to push past my feelings and give you what you want. It’s what I want, too.
I don’t think about it. Somehow it doesn’t even cross my mind once. Except at the very end when I watch you tie off the condom and check it.
You’re worried. You’re paranoid. So am I. At least you’ll know what’s going on- I am in the dark. Where you left me. Where you didn’t give a fuck about leaving me. I’m angry again but I pull you into my arms anyway. You close your eyes and I close mine. I imagine that things might be different. I imagine that you stop rejecting me out of fear. But you never will- you don’t trust me because I am a man. And we’ve hurt you so badly you don’t trust any of us anymore. You won’t admit it, but you hate us. Maybe it’s always been that way and you just never realized. But you won’t stop rejecting me because deep down (and you’ll never admit this) you’re afraid of me and what I might do to you. It’s one thing to beat your ass when you want it. It’s a whole other thing to experience the pain of betrayal. And you don’t trust me. You don’t think I can be loyal because of my job and the supposed culture of it. You think I belong to a boys’ club, that I’ll cheat on you or smack you around after a bad day at work. You don’t believe I can love you and meet your needs on any level- spiritual, intellectual, emotional, physical. You look at me and you think I’m lacking. That I’m not good enough for you. You hate me- even if you need me right now- you hate me. And I make you feel afraid. You cry in your sleep and I break inside. I hold you a little closer and your face softens. Your peace is restored. For now. You can’t or won’t believe that I can be different and nothing I do or say can change that. I know I need to let you go. I need to let you go like everyone is forced to do in the end. You’re too painful to want. Wanting you is a fools’ errand. But I still want you even though it has destroyed me. I pretend to be asleep when you get up and dress quietly. I feel you looking over me. “I’m sorry” you say quietly, and your lips lightly press a kiss against my forehead. Then the door closes and I’m left alone in my rejection. I’m left alone in the reality that I am the best I can be- the best I have ever been- and you still don’t want me. You won’t even try. Because I make you feel afraid.

 
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Posted by on October 23, 2019 in random thoughts

 

I may have fallen fast

I may have fallen fast, but it doesn’t mean my love isn’t going to last. You know, when I told you “I love you”, I didn’t say it just so I’d know how you felt for me, but because it was how I felt for you, and it still is.

It’s been almost a year I guess since the first and the last time we talked . And it’s been almost a week now since I told you that I would stop talking about us already, but … you’re still the one I’d like to talk to when something bad or good happens to me, you’re still the one I’d love to share most of my talks with. Nothing has really changed, except that we don’t talk everyday anymore like we used to do since we met. I still miss you every single day. I still wish Japan was just here in the Philippines, so I could just go to you during my days off from work. I still dream of you, of us being together, genuinely loving each other. It’s still you whom I want to end up with.

I’ve become clingy. I’ve acted like we’re an item. I’ve become insecure because your ex-bf, whose pictures are still on your facebook, looks more beautiful than me, she’s almost your age, he’s taller than me and he’s had you. I got so obsessed with you until I looked desperate to you. You got turned off. I’ve pushed you away. I’ve narrowed your options, while I got back to zero.

You told me we should take it easy and slow, but I’ve already fallen for you. Was it wrong that I told you so? Was it wrong that I’ve fallen for you before you do? Should I have waited till you have fallen for me, too? Is it really wrong for a boy to tell the girl first, or to do what he is supposed to do? Is it, because it’s unusual? How does it make the boy look desperate or degrade herself? Tell me how all of this matters. My mind is occupied with all these questions I’m not sure I’ll even get the answers for. My heart still hopes, because again, you’re still the one I want to end up with. But I really wouldn’t like to pressure you. Just tell me the things I need to know, the answers, they’re all I need.

 
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Posted by on October 22, 2019 in random thoughts

 

The First Kiss

“You can’t do it.” she teased me.
I was nervous. What if didn’t turn out to be good? What if my throat pretended to be a frog and started making weird noises? What if I sneezed? What if I bit his lip instead of kissing? Fuck! I was nervous? I was fucking scared!
“Shut up!” I said in a not-so-angry manner.
“Nah! Leave it.” she said, patting my hand.
she turned around to leave when i held her hand, gripping it firmly. She turned around. Her eyes met mine. She smiled.
I pulled her t-shirt and she fell on top of me, with just an inch of distance between us. I could feel her breath kissing mine. Her hands were on either side of my shoulders, helping her to not completely fall on me. SHe kept looking in my eyes, deep.
I had no idea about the next step. A minute passed. Nothing happend. Another one passed. She just kept looking at me, waiting, patiently. I closed my eyes, gave up on my thoughts and before i could do anything she spoke.
“Open your eyes.” she said.
I opened my eyes. She smiled.
“We just kissed.” she said.
Was i drunk? Of course not! We didn’t kiss!
“What?” I asked, confused.
“We, just kissed.” she said it again.
I did not understand what she meant.
she did kiss my confused lips within a second but i didn’t understand what she meant.

Now I know.

 
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Posted by on September 20, 2019 in random thoughts

 
 
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