Master’s Masterpiece

He said he’d buy me a collar then we’d do erotic things.

I wonder what those things include.

Would he instruct me to gracefully kneel and lift my hair?

As he fixes the collar to my neck, would his rough finger tips graze the tiny goosebumps on my nape?

Before he walks around to stand in front of me, lifting my chin so he can see me

Staring into my eyes so he can see us

Clearly.

Because I am now his submissive.

A reflection of his dominance,

A result of his care,

His masterpiece.

3 AM

It’s 3 AM
Do you know where your lover is?
I do not.
Chances are i never will.

I haven’t written anything of substance as of late. Just blurbs in an effort to get my fingers moving. I’ve been going through a trying time in my love life and it’s all I can think about. It’s funny that I say “love life” because this part of my life was devoid of fiery love or passion. This part of my life was more about companionship and parenthood.

I want to write it all down and send it to the universe but I fear that once it is written, it cannot be undone. There is something in me that believes in order for he and I to get past this, I must not put it into the universe. I should hold it close to my heart where it hurts the most.

I have been keeping the details pressed against my chest where it seems to be causing a full body reaction.
It hurts to breathe,
it hurts to blink,
it hurts to sleep,
it hurts.

My companion is banking on me wanting to do anything to rid myself of this pain but this betrayal is a fine two edged sword sharpened with manipulation and deceit.

Here I am writing about how I feel but not about what has happened.  I forcefully pulled back the magician’s curtain and now the magic is gone. I want to rewind everything because the knowledge of the deceit is more painful than the speculation.

We’ve been down a similar road before and I managed through that. I just don’t know how in going to get past this.

Mental illness feels like

for me, at least, the constant desire to be physically immobile while your mind is in a constant race. It feels ungrateful, negative, heavy, and confusing. Like I’m two steps from snapping but three steps from clarity.

I just want to lay down. I just want to cry. I, i, i, me, me, me — selfish. So I beat myself up for not feeling up to life. I berate myself for not owning my accomplishments and learning from my failures.

It’s so complicated. You need to pray, they say. You’re in a funk – that’s a good one. One step at a time. One day at a time. One loss. One win. I’m tired.

So I keep moving forward because I have to. Because there’s a shred of dignity that doesn’t permit anything less. But I am tired. I am worn. I feel negatively about many things. This, I assume, is because negative things happen.

You are only to speak positivity over your life!! That one is my favorite but I don’t think that is the answer. The brighter side of things still feel incredibly dark.

Scraped knees, shattered heart, bruised ego. It’s the smallest detail that weighs the most. Deep sighs to relieve the heaviness of all this. And still only for a brief moment.

Loud music & sing-a-longs mask a deficiency in happiness. Really I just want to feel better.