coffeelove

A story of love, life and pain for you.

The weather today has been particularly filled with memories.
I told her how my threshold for pain has increased, emotionally, physically. She thought it was a generic trait for us.
That is what you did, this is what you made me. But I doubt you even care, whenever I gave you what you wanted, you left. Left me aching. Wanting. I don't know if I want it any other way now.
Don't let it go to your head that I still think of you in bed but I find myself still half asleep, with my hands over my head, my lips brushing against a memory of your shoulders towering over me, how you would tangle your fingers in my hair and make me look up at you. So many times I had to bite my lip to keep the words from escaping me, if I told you I would loose, I would never be able to go back.
And I remember that winter, you ordered me out of the car and pulled up my skirt, your hand came down so hard on my cheek, the cold making it sting even more and I thought I'd never breathe again. You murmured into my ear that you loved me and I think my heart broke because I knew you were lying.
I try to imagine what I could have been like if it weren't for you. If you didn't shape me, imprint my life.
Would I then be satisfied with luke warm?
I would never have experienced pleasure in that way, so I am grateful. But the pain my love, the pain that made my heart bleed every time I looked at you.. I didn't need that. Anything below hot, stinging pain, buried deep in my chest, and I can't feel it.

Love, B.