My mother taught me the way of locking in. A woman in this household, she said, does not weep. We simply stare, and continue living. The way of martyrs, she renounced.
Do not let emotions fail you, an iron clad-rule behind this door. A woman in this household, is built to be strong-willed. There is no room for weakness here. My mother shows so. Play before get played. Abandon and be desired. Pick yourself up and dust off the softness. Vulnerability is a sin.
I soon became the master of my own escapes. I do not admit. I do not administer. Tried being insatient and inanimate, I release myself from the satisfaction of intimacy. I do not need what is unnecessary.
That's why when i met you, it was some kind of salvation, a world of unknown to me. I'm still not sure how i ended up falling, but, falling into you feels okay.
We sat in front of McDonalds at 4am half drunk. Life was airy and we were exploring steps. Heavily intertwined, we tweaked and burn. You were there outside of my class, a breath of fresh air to the boredom of coffee shops, and late nights lonely became lunch partners.
For once, i dived into a mind not mine. It felt liberating. Burden of locked words and emotions were laid off and melt in your existence. Heat and skins and everything otherworldly merged, it was ocean, it was the sun.
Yet, in my mother's language, i was utterly defeated.
Before long, i found you filling my ribcage. It was full and crowded, pressing my lungs. I find myself blaming cigarettes for the lack of air. And words, they were blooming in and out. Every touch of yours in my soil is fertile, it covers my entire body, i became something else.
I no longer knows the world outside the grasp of your fingers, and yet i was exhilarated on being wanted. I was stripped naked down to my core and out of my own independence. World became ours. World became you and me. We peaked and reached.
You see, the thing is, my mother never teach me about the danger of addiction. She was an addict herself, on principles and ideals. She did not warn me about being blind, nor warn me that heartbreaks comes with pretty eyes and soft words.
I ignored all the red flags because your fingers were dripped in it. I became fond with red. As the color of your lips. As the color of the clothes you wear when we first met. But being stripped means being sacrificed. Dependant and high.
Is loving you ever the right thing?