The last day the I ever saw The Ex's face , the wind blew strong scattering raindrops like diamonds against the windowpane. I didn't know it was the last day I would see him but maybe he did, it was beautiful all the same. Sadly his life was over before I ever knew it was time for goodbye. So soon?
Right Now? That's it ? That's it.
I loved everything he was, plus the hope of what we could've been, minus our addiction. Maybe I just made this all up just one day too late but I thought our hearts held first class tickets to the land of happy ever after. Even after his death, I always hope for it to get better, waiting for that one day when it goes back to the way it was, when the joke is on me and I never lost at all. I will wait until forever for nothing possible, just because it's not time to forget you.
Once I am healthy again, maybe our fight could be counted as one of the major triumphs of love and survival?
Regardless of my recovery, it won't bring you back and don't I know it.
It's just never quite the same with me here and you, flying above with the angels, just beyond the castle made of cloud and sparkle.
I close my eyes as I feel something warm trickle down my cheek.
"It's just the rain ..she says.. brushing her tears away."
So much happened before this horrible day. I might add The Ex and I were not together at the time of his death.
We must travel a year prior to this when I met someone else, a client in fact. I met Marcus whilst working in a grubby little motel on the south of town. Marcus was aged in his early thirties, attractive and athletic build, probably attributed to his passion for surfing and a healthy life. When we met, I gathered he was rather shy and awkward in my presence. I filled the gaps in conversation with my own special brand of warmth and ease.
Unfortunately, he was also the type of client that methodically plans the finer details of the booking; the style and texture of my lingerie , the dialogue that we exhange during sex and of course the precise order of events that would comprise his precious thirty minutes of 'ressurection'. Marcus became highly aroused as he spent hours posing me in enticing positions, my legs splayed on the limp and dusty mattress, as he watched my fingers play between my legs. I always found these clients particularly tiresome after a long day working and with the Heroin fading away, so did my patience. I tried to play nice for the majority of my regulars, but it was was only money that made me go back for more. Requests from my clients were rather vanilla; clothes pegs on nipples, peeing, smacking, fantasy scenes, bdsm, high-heels and red toenail polish and stockings and lingerie, almost standard requests in the Game. (Golden Showers less common, more expensive and very hard to do whilst on Heroin as your bladder is supressed) Even though I could tell Marucs was not entirely pleased with my attempts to ignore his gentle probing, he still touched and caressed me, sometimes going so deep inside to find the affection and intimacy that I never know existed.
I noticed something different happened whilst 'entertaining' Marcus - I came.
I hardly ever orgasmed with a client, mainly due to my spacing rather than any client's lack of talent. However, Marcus could manage to make orgasm every time , some times continually. much to my rising indignation. It appeared that I was ripe for a sexual revolution. Being the cool cat that I am, I suspected early that he had developed feelings outside the professional relationship. Blurring the lines between professional and private was always a fear my boyfriend not myself indulged in.
Dating a client was something I was opposed to - almost a personal turn-off. I never thought I could date a client - it just seemed so pathetic and last resort. "What man pays?" I would ask myself.
Well, only some of us know the answer for sure but I digress from my story. I knew I liked him - how?- why I slept with him and did not ask for the money, something I had not done for three years. I found myself creeping around at midnight, meeting Marcus on secret missions to escape to his beachouse where we made hot and passionate sex, gasping in shock as my screams of total ecstasy rose over the crashing waves. Inside my body, I was technicolour and my cheeks blushed from the burden, I never knew I could feel this good. I decided to wait for a while and see how "the relationship' progressed before I told him the whole story - The Heroin, The boyfriend, The Mess.
I'm sure he would understand and love me all the same, maybe even help me escape.
It was a small flicker of hope, the last one left.
When love is lost, do not bow your head in sadness; instead keep your head up high and gaze into heaven for that is where your broken heart has been sent to heal.