I will come for you (repost)

I watch her. Daily. I know her routines, and I know when she goes to sleep. I stand on the street, hidden in the shadows, but I see her. I see how she pulls her curtains close. Does she know that I can still see her? I see her silhouette undress. The shirt that glides off her shoulders and how she shakes her head. Her hair falls in long waves down her shoulders. I see how she unclasps her bra, and I wish it would be me doing it. But I am doomed to stay in the shadows. Is she aroused, or is it cold in her bedroom? I would like to taste her breasts. I am sure she is very sensitive, and it would make her moan. She pushes down her skirt, and I long to see her like that. One day I will. I won’t hide forever. Once, not that long ago, I worked up all my courage and asked her for the time when she passed me on her way home. Her icy blue eyes stared at me as if I was the scum attached to her Manolo Blahniks. Her slender fingers brushed the cuffs of her stylish trench coat back and revealed an expensive watch. She answered curtly and was gone before I had processed it. Her voice was deep and raspy. Really sexy. Ever since that day, I imagine her moan my name. Maybe even scream it in ecstasy. One day she will. I am sure about that. I wish I could see more of her than her silhouette. All too soon, she turns off the lights, and her room is bathed in darkness. I wonder if she sleeps naked or if she puts something on when she turns off the lights. One day I will go upstairs and find out.

Why not today?

I managed to get a spare key to her apartment. I stole her best friend’s purse because I knew she had the key. It was too easy. I have never used it before. But I will be using it today. Oh, this is so exciting. I am going to see the woman of my dreams soon. She will be pleased to see me and invite me to stay the night. Of course, we will not sleep. We will be busy making love. Yes, making love – not fuck. She is my only real love. My soul mate. It’s a good thing I remembered to steal some chewing gum this morning at the newsstand. I put a stripe in my mouth and let the minty flavor take away the furry feeling on my tongue and teeth. It’s a struggle to chew because of the many missing teeth in my mouth. She will love that too. I can kiss her with my tongue without too many teeth in the way.

I am already on the right floor. How can she live in a building without security? Every creep can walk up and break into her home. It’s a good thing I am here to protect her. I sit in the shadows of the street lamps every night, and I wait until she turns off all of her lights. It’s just to make sure that she is alright.

Not so long ago, she had a male friend over. She tried to make me jealous. She didn’t even close the curtains. That’s how I know that she has milky white skin, and the aureole of her nipples is a dark shade of red, almost brownish. She’s a natural blonde. She wanted me to see it, and it turned me on so much. That’s how I know that she is waiting for me too. She put on that show for me, and now I am here, putting the key in the lock, and I am ready to surprise her. I try to be as silent as possible. I don’t want to wake her up just yet. I want to surprise her, see her sleep, maybe inhale her scent. I am planning to cut off a little of her hair as a souvenir. She will not be pleased, but if I do it while she’s sleeping, she won’t even notice. I remember where her kitchen is and look through the drawers to find scissors. Her kitchen is not as neat as I would have expected it. The dishes from her dinner are still in the sink, and there is half a glass of wine on the counter. On second thought – she must have left it for me. I drink it in one go and lick the rim of the glass. She drank out of the same glass. Some of her DNA is going over into my bloodstream now. I feel euphoric. She is in me.

In the dark, I have trouble to find the right door, but soon enough, I find it. It’s not closed, and I sneak in. Her breathing is calm and even. Almost hypnotizing. She is only wearing panties. The sheet that must have covered her earlier is a mess and not doing its job well. I bend down over her to smell her. I want to memorize this moment. I let my nose roam over her body, paying particular attention to her genitalia. The scent of woman and sweat arouses me further, and I stroke myself through my clothes. I can’t hold back a moan. She stirs in her sleep, but she doesn’t wake up. She parts her legs, and her slip moves a little to the side. I am sure she did it on purpose because now I can see her most intimate secret place. I am going to taste her tonight. My cock strains against my pants, and I have to free it. I let out another groan when the chilly night air blows over its precum drenched head. I imagine it to be her mouth and her breath on me. Will it ever be more than just a fantasy?

I still clutch the scissors in my hand and remember to cut off one of her locks. When I move closer, my penis touches her shoulder. Her hot skin and her naked body are too much for me to take. I rub myself faster and come all over her breasts and shoulder. Some of my release lands on her face and in her hair. She looks good like that. She is such a beautiful woman christened with my semen. She is mine now. I marked her as mine.

She wakes up, I startled her, and she stares at me with wide eyes. I know that they are blue. I would like to see the color again, but it’s dark in here. Her legs and arms begin to flail in a weak attempt to cover herself. I tell her that I am finally here and that I understood her invitation. I sit down on her bed and feel the mattress dip under my weight. The heat radiating from her body is palpable; even through the layers of my clothes, I can feel her. I run my hand over her torso and pay extra attention to her breast. As I predicted earlier, she likes it when I knead them. She whimpers and whispers, “Please, please,” her voice sounds different from when I asked her for the time, but I guess it’s because she just woke up. My hand wanders further south and comes to rest between her legs. She closes them, trapping my hand over her heated vagina. I stroke it with my thumb. She whimpers again. I let my nose roam over her neck and lick it. She tastes salty and like soap. I love it. It’s intoxicating. But there is something else. It feels like panic. But maybe I only confuse it with the taste of arousal.

She starts to move more. Almost as if she is trying to fight me. But she can’t be fighting me. I love her. She is my soul mate. She pushes me away hard, and I lose my grip on her. She plays hard to get. I smirk at that. I love it when women do that. I get closer to claim what’s mine again, only, this time, she slaps me in the face. That was not nice. Not nice at all. I only want to love her and protect her. “Get away from me,” she screams and slaps me again. I start to wrestle her on her bed and come to lie on top of her. I know that I am a stout man. She can’t get away from me now that I trapped her with my own body, but she catches me off guard when her knee collides with my balls. The pain is blinding me, and I course. I slap her face to make her see sense. To make her stop. The more she fights me, the more I slap her until she is finally lying still. I tell her that I will put on the lights now. She isn’t protesting. I guess she understood that I am here to worship her. To love her.

In the dark, I try to find the light switch. I blink when the bedroom is illuminated. What I see now is not what I have expected to see. She is covered in blood. Her body and her bed are drenched in it. I look at my hands; they are colored crimson from her blood too. Her face looks bloated, swollen. Her eyes are open. Staring at the ceiling. Filled with fear. I didn’t do it. I didn’t want this to happen. I love her. I fall down on my knees and weep. I didn’t want this. The scissors are impaled in her neck. I must have stuck them in while we were fighting. I can’t remember anything.

No matter how many gushing wounds she has on her face and neck and torso, she is still a beauty. I let my hands wander across her body one last time. I want to memorize her and lock those memories inside my mind. Her skin is colder than before, and, strangely, she isn’t breathing, but she looks peaceful. I will miss her, but now, she will be forever mine. It gives me solace.

I get up from the floor and put my limp dick inside my pants again. It’s time to leave and hide back in the shadows. She’s just asleep. Only sleeping. Yes, that’s it; she is resting. Tomorrow I will come back again. Maybe she won’t fight me as much and just lets me in. I know she wants it. I pull the scissors out of her neck and cut a thick lock of her hair off to put it in the pocket of my coat. I don’t need the scissors anymore and drop them on the floor. One last time I kiss her red lips. I expect her to moan or respond in any way, but she stays silent. She must be exhausted. Quietly, because I don’t want to wake her up, I leave her apartment.

It is dark and cold outside. I see that I forgot to turn off her lights, but she will certainly do it herself when she wakes up again. I sit down on a bench nearby and pull out the lock of her hair. It’s soiled in blood, just like my hands and clothes. But it’s okay. It’s her blood, and I will put off washing it off as long as I can. It’s a part of her, after all. I sniff at the hair, and I have an instant boner. Freeing myself from the confines of my pants, I rub myself until I find release.

Tomorrow I will visit her again. The thought of touching her again makes me shudder. I smell my fingers; they still hold the scent of her skin and of her blood. I am made to love her, and soon, she will see it too. And then she will love me too.

Sunday Scribblings #16 mountains

We are running and running, hiding in the mountains,

I hear myself breathing your name

A sound barely above a whisper.

Far away from the reality that will crush us,

We are giving in to our secret desires.

The flowers you brought to romance me

Are scattered all over the floor, damaged by our hungry passion.

And I moan your name,

It rolls heavily off my tongue.

Our lust reverberates from these walls,

It is seeping into the floors; invisible to the blind.

And I scream your name in ecstatic bliss,

Flying high, then crashing down in waves of emotions.

The night is falling outside, stars shining bright.

I sign my name across your heart;

It will be protected by the ghosts of the mountains.

###

Written for Aaron’s Sunday Scribbling. Take a look at his blog, or consider using the prompts that are published each Wednesday to write, too. Prose, fiction, poetry, non-fiction, essays… everything is allowed.

And finally…

I first shared about my intention to publish my novel early this year, but a couple of setbacks made me drop my imaginary deadline.

Then last week, I didn’t have to go to work because there was no work for me left to be done… I was angry. Very much so. I felt useless and unneeded – and those are things similar to rejection – I can’t deal with them. I had to do something, and I dove into my manuscript for Heart of Stone. There was still a lot of work to do, and I did it. It took many hours, but in the end, I got it done, and I think/I hope there aren’t any typos left.

Upload, publish done.

That was the easy part. The cover had been done long before – I designed it myself, with a picture I took myself too. The picture inspired the title of the book.

The hard part was sharing with the world that I had written a novel that is almost 300 pages long. (291 pages of story). But, with a little shove and a lot of convincing, I did it. I shared on Instagram, on Twitter, and on FB. FB is the scariest because there is only family and people I really really really like. Their opinion matters.

And wouldn’t you know? They didn’t even ask about a synopsis, they simply asked where to buy the book. They will be surprised to read an English same-sex romantic novel. But, that they offered some support, albeit driven by curiosity, that means the world to me.

By now, Heart of Stone is available as paperback and ebook on Amazon worldwide. Mid-August, I will receive 10 copies that I can share and send around the world. One is already spoken for. 9 are left.

Heart of Stone – paperback version on amazon.com

Heart of Stone – kindle version on amazon.com

(Clicking the links will lead you to amazon.com – you will leave this site.)

I am proud of this achievement. It took me a while to come to terms with it, but yes, I did it. The first copy of the book went to the UK, to North Wales. That man bought his copy before I even told the masses that my book existed, and before I had the chance to correct the final typos. His copy of Heart of Stone is truly unique. And I will never forget his generosity and kindness.

Now, I will have to see if I can come up with a next book. There is only one older story of mine that deserves to be made into a paperback, but I am not sure if it will ever happen. Every Second, Forever. It is about a man who catches HIV and his journey through life, living with the virus. But, that book was written even before Heart of Stone, and therefore it is out of date. We’ll see what will happen.

Heart of Stone – it is out now, ready for your eyes. It will hit you right in the feels, I promise.

Dear stranger,

Who would have guessed five years ago that our dance would still continue? Months of silence, weeks of unconditional love. Who would have guessed? One of the voices in my head insists that it is not five years because we have silent months, and yet… We always find our way back together.

I obviously won’t forget you, why should I? And you can not forget me; why should you?

Whenever things are happening in my life, I want you to know. I want to get in touch and tell you, but I don’t. I hold back. Recently, I learned that I am holding back much more than I thought I was. It’s weird, and yet… I still maintain that you are the only person on this earth who knows me bare. You are also the only person who never judged me, just encouraged me to be the best version of myself I can be. And for that, dear stranger, I love you. And I will continue to feel that way.

Are you there? You used to ask that question. My response was always the same: I will always be there. Promised.

Yours sincerely,

Sweetie

Where is my light?

Where is my light?

I lost the sun, the moon, the stars,
now I am following a map with no directions.
Like a seed that is never watered,
parched lips – starving for affection.

Where is the light?

And I exhale my last life’s breath,
Giving it away to make you stay.
Can you feel me now?
A kiss from your soul will end the everlasting night.

Where is the light ?

I am running, but my legs aren’t moving,
wishing to be in someone else’s mind for a while.
Like waves that are licking the sand,
Tasting what is missing – unable to hold on to the things I find.

Where is my light?

I woke up with a poem in my fingers.

Darkest light

Original draft of this third poem of the day – including spelling mistakes and my poor handwriting. Written on a napkin while making lunch. (May 24th, 2020)

Touching skins

And

Kissing souls

Seeping into one

Soaking in each other

*

Touching skins

And

Kissing souls

Drowning in fantasies

Creating eternal/ ethereal memories

*

I could die in your eyes

I could float in your arms

*

Touching skins

And

Kissing souls

Desperate connection

Bleeding lust

*

Dire thoughts

Floating darkness

– our kind of light.

come on, go!

I let you get to me

And now I am broken.

Do you know I wasn’t happy there?

In the shower, in the kitchen,

I was never myself

And I hate this feeling

I was never my own.

I said we’re done

But you came back to catch me.

Did I ask to be saved?

Quit playing these games.

And if I crawl home

Hiding underneath the street lamps

My sins will be concealed.

I reek of all the things I didn’t do.

Strange times – it could be worse.

On a leash, in a line

Almost forty years and my demise is near.

Carved in skin – made a of love

Falling off a mountain…

I will fly. I swear I will.

My last remaining decisions.

Who knew?