Irrevocable Damages

Do you know what I used to think about when I look at you? Do you want to know?

I picture you naked. And I remember your smell. Your small hands, the dainty knuckles. Your baby hairs on the back of your neck, always getting in my way. Your gay knees that wouldn't be straightened. Your eyelashes, so fine but so definitive. That gulp you do, so absolute.

I picture you naked. Defenseless. Simple and untainted. Pristine, even. I picture you naked. And that picture is seared into my mind. I had wanted you back. I still do.

Do you want to know what I think about you when I look at you now?

How much we have changed. And not necessarily for the better. I want to help you find the splinter that you cannot find. And draw you a map out of the puzzle. This Promethean curse you speak of shouldn't matter now. You have paid your due and I mine.

Reach out. Reach out and I will come for you. Until you do, expect that I will try to find MY solace in the ungodly. Just as you.