Change as In June

Something in me changed a while ago.

Better yet, something changed me a while ago. My ability to exist only when someone thinks of me, for example, is the same it was before those times of fake lust and godliness, of anemia and blush. Many times I've thought of doing whatever I had to do to bring those times back, hoping they'd lead my way into the numbness I miss so much. Only thoughts. If I let them become more than that, I'd be washing those stains of shameless lust. I'd remember, intoxicated, every time you breathed the vice that fills my mouth, or twist your fingers inside me until it hurts so much I have to smile.

Something changed me a while ago, and the frustration of leaving a whole era behind sometimes reduces me to tears.

Only tears. If I let them become more than that, you could forget to wound me with your tongue and swallow the escaping euphoria. I can't let you forget that, the moment you do you'll be forgetting yourself, and we'll be back in the times of fake lust and power, of anemia and gore. And they will lead me, inevitably, into the numbness that hurt so much. Now dry these tears, they haven't changed. Then start a new ritual, charged with disenchanted words and wordless spells. Twist your fingers, wound my core...hard enough to make me smile.