Last night you slept next to an angel.
You said, "I'm all yours," as sleep finally won you over. You remember how your heart was actively attempting to escape through your chest solely through blunt force. You pictured, just for the briefest of moments, that your lungs belonged to the same being, and you couldn't help but realize that your breathing was matched and you wondered in the darkness then, with nothing but sweet vanilla filling ever-flared nostrils, if this was what Love was always supposed to feel like, and whether or not you've just been kidding yourself this whole time, ridiculously unaware that two separate people could possibly fit together so well and so effortlessly. She is a powerful being. That is the only thing I'm truly certain of at the moment. She said,
"I imagined the shape of your penis..." which in itself was something you'd never heard, "and I am glad I was right." She continued, "In fact, I may or may not have masturbated for an hour envisioning it in my head," which was another something you'd not heard... Not in that way. Not like that. Never like that.
She's got a way about her.
You were intrigued and slightly self-conscious, as you did not last as long as you would have liked, which would've been somewhere towards the end of "Third Eye" and not necessarily shortly after the first verse. Then you convulsed, as you've been known to do, for several minutes, trying to regain some semblance of composure, though she solely watched you do so, getting much more pleasure from the view of a man wracked with full body spasms, as that may not have been something she's seen. At least for awhile.
We've both a similarly checkered past, searching for the glimmering Nirvana of the one precious, fleeting moment of pure, white light that sears itself to screwed-shut retinas and leaves fuzzy star bursts doing a dance of spiraling mitosis on the outskirts of your view, that is, when you feel like you are able to open your eyes again. It's not from shame, this inability to keep watching each possible expression and moment, but rather the feeling that you are somehow unworthy of this, that you should never had an opportunity to feel this joy. This all-encompassing transcendence of the reality around you, where worry and preoccupation are surgically removed from your being so very completely that you're no longer certain if they're simply words you've made up in your head to fill the unbearably long years it has taken you to find each other.
At this point in the day, you've stepped away from the book, you may or may not have ingested an additional ten milligrams of crazy calm in halves, you've prepared dinner for forty, and you've realized something profoundly important about the situation with your guardian angel:
Although you've not felt like this in quite a long, long, long, long, long, still unbearably long, long, far too long, essentially your whole life, long time, you've begun to see her true self: though she's had a much more difficult existence than most, she has harnessed that loss into a pure power of healing energy. Which made you come to the aforementioned realization: even though you are well in Love with her, you know that as of just over a month ago, she did not make the wrong decision. He needs her now, at this point in time, more than you. She has the power to bring him back from the brink, and you have the power to genuinely make her happy for the rest of both your days. Herein lies the dilemma. You love her. She does love you, however unbelievable that is to you. He loves her, and she, him, as well. You're sitting in the gazebo in the Woods where the farmer's daughter was married. You're listening to a mass slowly shifting from tipsy to beyond. You feel the energy of the Forest. You just made the thunder rumble appreciatively in the distance. You know that you're better for her, long term. You know she's best for him for as long as she can hack it. The name of the game is patience. Someone said it was virtuous. You think, Fuck you, guy. This is going to be painful.
In the palm of your hand is the power to wash all her worry and doubt and pain and anguish and dark history away and bring her moreso into the Now, while she helps you do the same. You want her so badly for your own that it's terrifying you. The cards were dealt. Now, we three must interpret what we want their meanings to entail.
You're not stepping aside, because you can't. I won't let you. You've made enough mistakes in your life thus far. How about we start figuring out what the right plan of action is for US. Oh yeah, that's right: patience.
The thunder rumbles in agreement.
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