I’ve heard of couples who were incendiary when together. Fire and gasoline; fine apart, but explosive as a couple. The sex is so amazing it’s addictive on a cellular level, and they are magnetized to the other, often given no choice in the matter. Their bodies rule all thought; words are absent, only emotional, physical and that intangible thing called chemicals, are at play.

I’d never felt anything even close. Not even dreamt it being possible. Granted, I’d written about it, but I write fiction, and fantasy, and even I didn’t believe the tales I wove.

Then I saw his picture, and a simple image altered the terrain of my heart. Then I met him, and he saw me. I was ecstatic to feel, it, that elusive thing I’d never felt. I let myself fall and was happy to crash. When he touched me, I finally comprehended, and my soul burst into flames. I was his. I was made for him. He was supposed to be mine.

Still, after a year of hot and cold, mean and depressed, alive and dead, on fire and frigid, unbalanced and balanced, insane and pensive, and we can’t make it work. We are too much together, and I’m not enough alone. I need him, not to complete me, because I’m not a partial, but rather to illuminate the darkness and doubt; warm the coldness, restore my will to thrive and return my hope. Alone, I am dull and lifeless, boring and shadowed by gloom. Alone, I am numb and reserved.

He is overflowing with more than any one man can contain. He can’t control the thoughts and whims and needs of a powerful intellect, and an athletic, superior body. His emotions run rampant, like crazed alien creatures. His paranoia rules and his mind sees scenario’s that might exist, but don’t, at least not in the reality we share–if we are together.

Together we are perfect, complimenting the other’s weaknesses and only magnifying the strengths. Together, I absorb his overflow and he finds balance, and peace. I am resurrected, the dead brought back to life.

Yes, we are an inferno when together, but pathetic apart. Sadly, we can’t find together; the intensity is more than either can bear, and so we’ve chosen, apart.

Other posts under this theme:
Peeing with the door open, (home feed for this theme)
Frolic Beach
Loving a Narcissist
It's Sad
Incendiary, (this page)


All roads lead to Payne