Sincerely, Jennifer x

She was so passionate, and perhaps, that was what I loved the most about her. 

Long nights of dangerous desire. The classic game of cat and mouse. Her echoed cries and sighs surrounded me, as I held her inside my arms, and allowed myself to feel the most divine of pleasures. 

She would play pretend, begging for an end to our love affair, praying at the end of her bed, surrounded by preachy men in dog collars, showering me with wine that had lost its shine and become water, but I knew the truth. 

I could see the telltale glint in her eye as we became one. 

I would trace the charred skin of her slender neck as the silver of her cross captured it, cruel and unkind, but never quite able to defeat my delicate touch. 

She would leave me with scratches, bruises, and a trail of her tears when morning came, but we never truly parted. I would watch her wake, wandering the world, as if she truly belonged there, but we both knew that when night fell, she would return to me. 

I was her sanctum. A solitary moment of silence, away from the whirring, warring world, where she could give up the fight and simply be adored. 

It’s what she had always wanted. 

I could hear it in her prayers. 

I could taste it on her lips. 

I knew her, inch by inch. Every thought, feeling and tiny tremor of her soft skin was shared with me, long before she was aware that I had come to rescue her from the boredom of everyday life. 

She had wished for love, every day since she could speak. So lonely. So lovely. So luscious in her longing that I could not resist granting her wish, and as night fell, I found her, and invited her on the adventure of a lifetime. 

True romance is an adventure. It is a gift, and I am a generous lover. From that first night, she became mine, and no matter how hard she tried to fight her own darkness, she always ended up alone with me, when the sun could bear to look at us no longer. 

I would whisper to her, night and day. 

“Give in to what you’re feeling.” 

“There is no shame in being loved.”

“I will be with you, wherever you go.” 

Sometimes, I wonder if it soothed her, to belong to someone so much stronger, and have them carry the burden of being alive. There is so much peace in never being alone, and though she tried to fight, I knew that it was what she needed. 

I have had many girls, from every corner of the world and every era of time, but they always burn out and break down. My love is simply too much. 

To be adored, is to be consumed, and though each of them is delicious to the last drop, they always leave. Falling from their beds into the dark, cold earth, marked by nothing but grey stone and freshly cut flowers. 

I didn’t want to let her go. I had adored so many, but never like that. Never like her. So passionate, so sweet and so defiant, to the last drop. Both of us aching and crying, hoping and holding on, until at last, she broke free. 

I was bereft, watching the priests prise my princess from my grasp. She shuddered, staring at me with an ungrateful glare, as if I hadn’t thrilled her, and I was sent away, sentenced to wander again, all alone. 

I was cast out, as if the magical moments we had spent together had meant nothing. Cast aside as if I had meant nothing to her. 

For a long time, I was empty, unable to move on from the greatest love of my life. I howled through the halls, my pain, painted across her walls, and her closed eyes, pleading for a way back. It tore me apart, and I made some mistakes. 

I found myself across from a girl who would do for the evening, and I polished her off in an instant. I left a trail of tears, and terror wherever I went, searching for that same old feeling that I had taken for granted, but none of them were like her. 

I watched her, waiting for a window, a way back, a chance, however small, for our love to bloom again. I needed to be with her. I needed to feel her. I needed to love her. 

I am still waiting. Watching by the window, or a little closer, on days where I have the strength. Burned by her rejection, and the cross that watches from above her bed. I burn with desire, and some day soon, she will burn too.