I chose to cross between that boundary of something sweet and sound, for the tainted and unexpected, I fell in love with the raw unpredictable excitement instead.
I'm no stranger to toxic love, I've known enough and seen enough to know that it gets exhausting. You swap your light for those quick fixes and if you're not careful, you burn out and loose your shine. I brush the curtain open, the net slipping between my fingers. The sunset’s left a purple flush in the sky.
This kind of love is not sustainable, toxic love is more like a drug. You get hooked on that next fix. You'll take the god-awful lows, just for a chance to experience that ethereal bliss again...
I woke up with dark thoughts brooding in my mind this morning, it's an intoxicating obsession, "love can so easily cross the boundaries of hate, don't you think?"
Sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference, hate consumes us in the same way as love. I know that love can be cruel, a poison-filled rage and wild passion all mixed into one bottle.
I know that love can be uplifting in a gentle way and encouraging. It can be kind and compassionate, but I ran from that. It felt strange and uncomfortable.
Underneath my clothes, there is a mystical side to this love. It consumes me when I'm all alone. Passion is something foreboding, for me at least, the rest is unspeakable. But a love like this is not made to be talked about on other people's lips. Our time together is invaluable to our soul bond with each other.
That very darkness is mirrored in myself. I need you, but I'll keep that to myself. Love was never what it seemed when I was younger. It was complex and difficult to understand.
I have to get up, I can't just sit here all day. My mind is whirling so fast right now, I imagine seeing you soon, it feels like there's a storm approaching, a sinking feeling in my gut. I can see it in my mind, somewhere in the distance, rolling in from the shore, with a thick purple mist. I never did like thunder.
I know you'll be charming. You'll wear that blue sweater that brings out those gorgeous hues in your eyes. It’s like someone has lit a bonfire in my head and it’s difficult to get my thoughts into words. I watch the clock but time only goes backwards.
My camera is gathering dust on the shelf so I pick it up. I run my fingers along it. Photography is a quick release for my difficult thoughts. Sometimes my thoughts hold me captive.
"Our love can be lustful, or vengeful with hate." you say, while I rest my hand on the counter. Those roses that you bought me, the ones that looked so good in the vase from Anna are wilting by the window. But when I look at them, all I see is the past. I like the beauty of nature, it makes me feel at peace, just like those wilted roses..
I’ve been thinking a lot about the sacredness of space recently. The warmth of our intimacy and how your fingers running down my spine can cause such electricity. I never treasured my space until I aged.
I find it unusual how the closeness of another human can conjure such feelings deep within a soul. The lingering of each breath on my neck. "Did you know that skin is the biggest organ of all?" I asked. I always did ask too many questions.
If I could just shut my mind out and focus less on my imperfections I'd be more in this moment,, with you. I would find the ultimate bliss I'm searching for. That heartbeat in front of me, I would find a way.
If I could only let go of those toxic habits, it might be easy to delicately place my hand into the unfathomable unknown, I might finally feel connected to something, for once. and we'd have each other.
I guess you can never understand someone else’s mind, the only mind I'll ever get, is this one in my stupid pretty little head. I use to think that life is just a delicate impression of how we capture each moment and choose to perceive the world, we all leave an imprint of our existence when we're gone.
"So, why did we fall in love, if we can't read each other's minds?" I'll never know how you see this world, or me. Your words are only a sweet little inclination of how you really see me, "but isn't that what makes our love so chemical?"
There's that mysteriousness, that's lost in translation, as you look deeply into my eyes. I pick up the knife.
A short story about toxic love.
Soul bonded valentine
Our hearts are awash with a chemical glaze,
A foreign place for my mind that’s in a daze,
Don’t you think that in the fleeting moment,
Reality beats hard like an injured heart?
And suddenly our numbed impulses meet,
From across the room I hear your heartbeat,
Like a rush of blood travelling down the spine,
Electricity like yours, was made for mine.
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