thedeadpoetprose

[thedeadpoetprose]

The bigot

I met a man on New Year's Eve. He was smooth talking, good looking, he flattered me endlessly. I knew he was playing a game, but part of him looked at me, like I was magic, twirling and entrancing. He was 20 years older than myself. For the record, I am 30.

We spoke all week and agreed I'd visit him on the Saturday. He would provide food and wine, and we would sleep together. Friends with benefits.

On the Friday he added me on Facebook. I quickly discovered a stream of bigotry and bitter frenetic rants. I felt a deep sense of disappointment and anger.

Yet the Saturday came around, and I sat in the taxi on my way to him questioning my morals and my actions. Was I really that desperate for sex, I'd sleep with someone so awful? I thought perhaps I wouldn't. Maybe I'd confront him, we would argue, and I'd leave. Perhaps I was putting myself in danger? What if he hit me, or worse, for what could a man do alone to a young woman In his house? Yet, I continued.

Instead, we talked for hours. Less about his views, but more so of his life, his ups, downs and his passions. An interaction occurred, which led to him showing me one of his favorite video games. I watched intently as this calloused abrasive man, became animated and excited. He giggled and moved with juvenility as he explained to me his winning tactics, giddy and carefree until he caught my gaze.

His shoulders slumped and his head bowed down, he placed the controller on the floor as he glanced downwards. "I'm sorry, this is really embarrassing, I've invited a beautiful young woman over and I'm being weird. I'm boring you. I'm really Sorry"

I playfully pushed his arm and told him not to be daft, and that I was familiar with the game as my dad had taught me. And that sometime I'd happily play it with him. His face settled into a state of contemplating confusion, to which he silently agreed "would you really? Well I'd really like that"

Perhaps it was the wine, or something else entirely but I moved across him to straddle his lap, I decided I'd be intimate with him after all.

After a period of antics of which I will spare the details, we decided to take a break. We both lit up a smoke and drank more wine, laughed and chatted some more.

Mid conversation he paused, he took an apprehensive swallow of wine, looked at me quizzically and said, "if it's alright, could we cuddle? For a moment I'd like to just be close with you" I was amused and taken back by his request. But I slunk down into the covers with him and intertwined myself into him. We talked quietly and he gently twirled my hair. I looked up to him and met his gaze, he told me I was beautiful and that he'd quite like me to be the first thing he saw in the mornings. I studied his eyes and noticed he looked at me with the same adoration as when we first met, but I saw something I didn't that night, I saw his sadness, and I couldn't help but wonder what he saw in mine.

Slowly we embraced again and continued with our intimacy. Once all was said and done, he collapsed down beside me and struggled into my chest. I kissed his forehead and cradled him like an angel harbouring a damaged soul, and he muttered something about feeling blissful and at ease. I felt my golden aura consume his darkest corners. And we lay still for a while.

I called a taxi and left.

The next day I felt angry with myself. Angry that I had met this man's child spirit and felt empathy. My friends were angry that I would associate with someone nasty like him. But try as I might they wouldn't understand. I ranted about how I wasn't going to fix him, and that he was an idiot. It didn't take long for him to cross the line and cause upset amongst my friends and I angrily told him to leave me be.

A few days later he contacted me and asked if I would meet him for an afternoon tipple and to talk things over. I agreed and over a few drinks we laughed for hours, found common ground and he enthused more about his hobbies like an excited child.

We kissed at the bus stop and he asked me, if for now, slowly but surely, I could be his, and he could be mine.

Oddly, I agreed and we made afternoon plans for the following week, and the weekend after I'll spend the night again.

[thedeadpoetprose]

A sad man, full of anger

Everything he touches turns to dust

Pulling the life out of everything all around

Sadness leaking into all the cracks in the room

He looked at me like I was an angel

Sent to save him

But I am not a hospital for broken souls

[thedeadpoetprose]

[thedeadpoetprose]

I accidentally fell in love with a man. He's awkward and for some reason, guarded. He's incredibly silly yet serious. Dispite it being 2023 he smokes a pipe, dresses on occasion quite impeccabley, and talks of wine so segaciously in a way that makes it taste all the more richer. He's eccentric in a way that is indearing, and I think I'd quite like to be eccentric and strange alongside him.

We don't just drink wine together, he is the wine, warming the blood, flushing my cheeks, adding lustre to an evening, getting me drunk and making me feel.

Truth be told, I am an old romantic. I don't share things I write but here I am. I never had myself down as a damsel in distress, I always do things for myself, but as my world crumbles around me, for the first time in my life I want to be saved and he makes me feel safe. I'd willfully lay myself down for him completely and give myself over to his mercy in any way he wanted. Walk into his sea, succumb to his tide, be washed away in his abyss. It would feel less like a woman drowning, and more like a sinking ship settling in it's destined resting place.

That scares me. It does so because Im allowing myself to be vulnerable. As I pour my entire self into this letter I know no aberrant verbosity will change anything. I wish that one day whomever you do find looks at you with the same adoration and awe at your beauty that I do, you deserve that. And if you ever do feel alone or not good enough, not that it's much, but you are always an immortal, devine veneration to me.

I'll never be ready to hear your indifference, but In doing so maybe it will finally sting enough that I could cry it out and purge everything once and for all, and be at peace whilst I sit amongst the mire. I cling to hopes that it wouldn't be that way, but I know hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have. Damn you, spoilt creature, but just know I do not resent you for it. I never could. Now, tell me, is that not just the worst thing you ever heard?

[thedeadpoetprose]

[thedeadpoetprose]

[thedeadpoetprose]

[thedeadpoetprose]