by Robert J. S. T. McCartney
Lust. Love. Sex. Drugs. Power.
So many fantasies we, as people, do we create by the hour.
We quit, wilt, and die.
Too often are we forced to bend a knee or be pressed down onto the firm mattress and be ravaged by life’s atrocities.
In my time, I’ve been led to a world wonder. Where I’ve experienced an intimate relationship between lovers: life and death.
Caught often in a lie, as we lie entangled in a mess of sheets and heat.
Where do we profess and confer our love and become engorged on each other.
Tasting a sample but taking the package, we wallow in this momentous excitement.
Ten years, it’s been ten years since I’ve become gluttonous on this punch drunk love diet.
Where sometimes there were suppliers of supplements that offered a chance at a change of heart and soul.
Opinions made and traded, save for those whose face was a cancer in our alleged “detestable and fictitious” love affair.
Savage, were they and the threats made, we moved far. Where we ought, and brought not the reprehensible acts, nor stayed the course of that which tarnish our voyage.
Still do, I feel the same; still do I look you in the eye; still, do I feel the fire within.
Still does my heart beat; still does my breath stop; still, does my heart belong to you and only you.
For there are many fantasies that we experience every hour…
But none may compare to the one I live every passing moment I am with you, nor can words be formed into the sentences to describe the euphoria; yet bittersweet life I spend with you.
For I know… that one day it’ll end. Therein lies, though, hope…
That I’ll find you again in the waking mortal world.