When we met, I was flying apart in a downward spiral, pieces of me being torn away, thrown away, my own self-destructive tendencies raging again, my long held harmful coping mechanisms still intact. I had written about the feel of corsets compressing me, holding me together, and dear gods was that the truth as I had no idea how to do it on my own. I was both desperate to find ground and equally desperate to not be tied down, not be stagnant, not be still, because the stillness made my skin crawl and my jaw clench and the blood curdling screams rise in my throat.
We stood there, that first time, you by the window, your back to me. I’d already taken my boots off and I asked if I could sit down, my body lowering as the words were flowing out my mouth. You said no and I jumped back surprised and somewhat confused as you turned with a chuckle and smirk and came over to me with those hungry eyes and curious hands. It was one first of many that day, in that place.
The sun was still bright and we were in yet another heatwave and when I tried to stand my legs quivered and started to give way and so I plopped back down, rather ungraciously, half embarrassed, half surprised because that was new too.
I asked you to join me and you came, and it surprised me. I didn’t know what to do really and was grateful to have you there with me as the lights and bass fed me.
You let me come and go and
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