I am never prepared for my reaction to him.
The walls I had only got taller, stronger, after the last "relationship" showed itself for what it was. One sided, full of games and devastating long past the end.
I ran from this one because of that one. I ran fast and far and he kept up. For every new brick I added to my wall he tore through three. I didn't even see it happen, it just did. He breaks in, in subtle ways, and lingers in that space that I keep for me. It should make me nervous, and it did for a time, now it just is and it feels serene.
He has a way about everything he does, it is demanding without demand. I can feel what he expects, what he needs, no words, just knowing. No thought, just reaction, and there is freedom there.
He reads me, in a way no one else can. He somehow just knows, everything, all of the time. He sees my fear before I feel it, addresses it before I am aware it was even there, and three more bricks fall.
He strips me, from fear, from insecurity, from clothing, from inhibition, all at once, without effort. It just happens. He MAKES it happen. And then he touches my soul, with a look or a thought and I tremble. He reaches out without my knowing and my soul flies free and I am whole again.
He makes no demands for my submission, he simply claims it, as his, because it is his. Because he decided it was and spoke it into being truth. He speaks things into existence with a whisper, brings them into reality with a thought.
He sees me for me and embraces me as I am BEHIND the wall that no longer stands as a barrier for him, even if it appears solidly to everyone else. I hold a place for him that no one else can or will ever hold, and he tells me that with every glance, every touch, every whispered "good girl" and I know that to him I truly am irreplaceable. Lip Service does not occur in his world, in this world that we share.
His possession of me is outright. He wears my soul like a second skin and I his. He is always with me, always in command, always my first thought. I am grateful. I am free.
