We arrived at the gate.
Any moment now he will go through there and that will be it.
Our physical connection for a few months – interrupted.
“I love you.”
A whisper is released from my lips.
“”Go on”, he says, “and don’t look back. Don’t look back.”
I nod but still can’t get myself to turn around and leave on the spot.
With sudden tears in my eyes I crave his infinite embrace. A kiss of souls touching and a gaze that says more than all the words in the world:
I will always be inside you.
He looks at me. moved.
“Ah, come here.”
He cups my face and gives me what I yearn for. The sobbing grows intense in my chest. Sitting there waiting to burst out. But with all might I hold it back. Still, a few tears make their way out into the airport lights. A crunched up face in struggle to remain calm and strong.
I remember something I once said to the man I later married.
“Don’t be sad over having to go. Look forward to when we meet again.”
Now, twentysome years later I take my own advice, with a heavy heart and a deep joy.
This mix of love and pain, the bone deep connection we share even over such a distance, fills me blissfully.
A dagger to the heart.
All encompassing, all over me, inside of me.
It is this bond of emotions to drive one into heaven and hell all the same.
It tickles enticingly.
Here. In my heart.
Between my legs.
A bit of devastation and overwhelming ardor.
Both so intense that sometimes I doubt to grow old.
Yet I reckon, just like the last time, we will meet again and it will be even better than the time before.
But it still hurts like hell.
The disconnect from feeling his presence all day around leaves a feeling of incompleteness. When he sleeps or eats or plays or watches porn.
When we talk face to face and when he fucks me into oblivion.
When he chats and laughs at crazy things and wows the great inventions of the world.
When I hear him take a shower and the kitchen pots and pans while he cues up yet another Vietnamese dish to die for.
To watch him sleep and hear him mumble.
See him make funny faces at the girls and hook up another gaming console for them.
His claim over me and his warmth within it.
The love that pours out of him in cascades.
And the round tip of his cock emerging in dusk’s glory.
So finally, with harsh steps I turned around and walked away.
Finally and painstruck.
But not for long.
This is a new beginning.
As all new beginnings it holds great opportunities along the way.
It’s about the yes’s to agree to and to welcome those opportunities created.
When I entered the door to my place it was still filled by his soul.
Most of his things are gone.
Yet it is nice to be alone for a while.
My daughters welcomed me back home.
They were happy to see me quite content.
And then I saw it – on top of my bed – a package.
New play things!
This will help me get over the few months along with that perfect clone of his cock.
Down to the frenulum.
Just the way I drip for it.
Being taken care of even in his absence feels heavenly.
I feel embraced.
In almost every way possible.
What else can I do but love him…
– Diana M. Joice