Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part three - She's a mystery to me

The night was blurred in the way a fever makes everything hazy and seems to distort time and space. What he remembered was the laughing, a bottle shared of the most wretched liquid imaginable. Fingers found their way to phones as they called others to share our newly gained frivolity as sent terms of endearing love and joy to others were shared while the other giggled and laughed. It almost felt as if they lost their defenses in a manner that would not take a turn. 

The television hummed in the background of their minds as they struggled to speak between laughs. It was a moment not different from any other, they enjoyed their moments together without any reserve or apprehension. They continued to fall among stationary objects wondering what had cause them to trip upon the floor as they laughed their cares away as children often do at the mere mention of simple humor. As Jack and Jill before them, as they taken their falls with nothing to hold fast but each other and the immortality of laughter. 

  Darkness falls and she will take me by the hand
Take me to some twilight land

Where all but love is grey
Where I can't find my way
Without her as my guide

They lay besides each other as they giggled between words. And as all fairy tales there must always be an element of dread that must take hold of our cast least they should lose favor and the tale remain untold as so many times before. Conversation turns and a leap of faith turns into a drunkard's stumble with all the dexterity of one. All to honest words are shared as smiles turn still. They sit in the awkwardness and he realized that he said what he never said he would say again. The moment was too perfect and he'd fallen into a stupor that he swore off at 22 as he would swear off once more a few years pass. 

He stumbled back, not in command of his own sense but as a spectator of his own foolishness. Words may never be taken back, only owned without despair and he had no bravado left. He fell back in an anguished humiliation as he realized that his hands could not hide his error as it hid his face. She leaned in, heavy in breath as her hands found his ordered hair. Her words were soft with understanding and forgiveness as he only wish to be swallowed by the world. She spoke of his great aspects and he shook his head in denial. Treacherous tears flowed freely at her words, burning his cheeks with greater shame as he wished he was not there. He'd worked so hard to keep his wits and defenses up. Spent so much time studying the weight of his words only to have them betray his meaning with simply one glass of strong drink. What was it called again? Why was it so unbearable?

A love so sharp it cut
Like a switchblade to my heart
Words tearing me apart

He remembered shaking his head admitting that he could not recognize honesty and truth in these moments and that no one wanted what had no value. That his kind were only used in moments where it never meant well and they were tossed about as one would dispose of refuse. He could not understand the warmth of his neck nor the weight upon him, he was too involved in begging the forces that were to offer a hasten respite that almost none among Olympus would hear. The warmth of fingers were not felt loosening his restraints. Her words were not heard. Only his own attempts to silence her and or to drown out all sense. How could his tongue be so loose he pondered as she drove his mouth silent with her kiss.

 In the night of love words tangled in her hair
Words soon to disappear

His nature was torn asunder as Triune mind fought for control over a defeated id. The honesty of nimble fingers pull them closer. Breathy whispers escape as eager lips crave flesh and warmth. Skin yearns to be touched with fever rekindled and lust awakened. Physical acts emerge where no words could begin to derive meaning. And yet, a protest emerges. He tears away with inflamed protest and begins to speak. With clothing half removed and eagerness in eyes, he confesses that perhaps this is not best. His lips speak words that his hands call hypocritical as they caress warm, sweet smelling skin. He recants his quick hands and yearning loins admitting that drink may have taken the best of his actions.  Regardless of mutual lust and desire for the other he says that he can not with knowing mind allow himself to do this. He confesses his love to her and all that she means to him, yet he can not ravage her despite how he feels and how his hands still do not give way to his protest. 

He tells her that his actions must not be motivated by drink and that if he is to have her it must be a well thought out action instead. Perhaps ghosts of love past refrained him from moving on. He wanted her all, not partially. He wanted her until he took his last breath and wanted to know that she did also willingly. Small talk is had between stolen kisses and promises as they attempt to return their countenance. They smile, stealing glances at what the other carnally offers. And in a memory that will haunt him for cold nights when the blind blows her name across his face, he hands her laced bra and remarks how awe-inspiring her nipples are. A redden face with sly retort asks him if he is certain as he says watches their covering with only a sadden no to. They continue to speak until unconsciousness take him away. The moment will be robbed of him until time has pass and nothing can be done.

Night falls I'm cast beneath her spell
Daylight comes our heaven turned to hell
Am I left to burn and burn eternally

She will retain the memory even though he would simply forget what came to pass. There will be more moments when an innuendo is hinted and that moles "remain where memory is kept". He would remain puzzled and only wonder what she means. Time will pass as time takes them away from each other only to return them once more. Time has dulled is heart to an extent and she would recover from the loss of another suitor. Only death can bring them together. And only time will pull them apart.

Dormant hearts would only awaken once more creating evasion once more. There will be late hours together on achromatic couches while each craves a moment lost. He would reach out to her only to meet coldness of the moment. And yet, there is always an ache held by one or the other.  There would be hugs held longer than needed, stolen looks and secrets kept by the defensive and the forgetful. In the end, walls that hold them apart will fall and lines will be hazed. They will share abandoned moments of thought and mild drunken moments. He would always feel a piece of himself lost in those moments as he fought stupid actions not remembered and wonder why his heart aches for her in the dead silent of nights. He would write his soul to her and she would only toss him aside. He would resort to methods not his own, but offered by others who remark that there is nothing to be lost. And yes he knows that somehow he has lost enough. Her coldness in these moments hurts him deep and yet he knows not why he remains so close to her.

A fool, a motley fool at that.

She tears again my bleeding heart

I want to run she's pulling me apart
Fallen angel cry then I just melt away

He would abandon all and simply say what his heart could not contain. He would declare his love for her any moment he could, cursing the heavens for why words lacks what he so desperately needed to convey what burns him alive. He know his time is coming to an end and simply watches it slip pass fingers that can not grasp the moment. It is not to be said that they do not find moments of closeness. Teasing fingers and moist lips carve memories not to be forgotten and yet there is a restricted hold on him. She would only tease him in the end and knowing full well that the moment must end, he prepares his heart for the end it will meet.

He must not be allowed to be crushed again.

Not once more.

Distance is placed between them as he know their time is not ending. She distance herself from him, promising to visit and to be close again, yet he know there is another and vocal ques let him know she only distance herself to cut all ties. He hardens his heart once more and is not hurt at the goodbye he receives. Not the sound of voice but a cold social faux pas of a modern manifestation asking him to leave her be and to allow her to learn to love. He lets go without and moves on. It will be months before he would begin to piece together that lost moment.

He would move among the living once more as he was once before, carrying a sense of loss that he could not comprehend. He simply lost a damaged relationship and a girl that may have been something more. He lost her and he simply walked away covering all track behind him, hoping that she would not find him again. Well learned habits would kick in ensuring that he remained hidden as he faced greater challenges at the moment. He would attempt to reclaim his body, struggle to finish his studies and come to the aid of a friend who heart was left broken. He would gather the broken hearts of many once more and inspire love that he never has had nor could inspire in himself. There will be questions asked at which his shoulders would only give a slight rise and quick thought would only change the moment. He could not understand why she remains in his mind for so long until he heard the echos of words said to him repeated to his brother.

"We have too much boy scout in us. That's the problem."

Haunted by her side
It's the darkness in her eyes
That so intrigues me
But if my love is blind
Then I don't want to see
She's a mystery to me