Dear Diary

I found it under her bed, it was in a blue box with some pictures of us. I didn't know if I should have just burned it or opened it up to see what she said about me. but I did anyway. now I'm writing in my own journal. its odd how sometimes the ones you love most and keep close are the ones who end up tearing your soul into three. maybe that's how it is supposed to be. maybe that's the way life is. but I found myself looking into this little book, this leather bound lock style book which had every encounter of us. of us only. I could have sworn I was reading something private. I was, I didn't know it would be so different to her eyes. Yet now I know that she did love me. maybe I should have never picked up the book. Maybe I should have never even tried to clean out her stuff. but maybe this is how its supposed to be.

I opened the first page and saw what she had done. A document of our first meeting, our first encounter.

"dear diary, its been a very great trip to California and I met someone. I feel like I'm a little school girl again. each second I was with him I knew that I wanted him, I wanted his body, him with me, I knew I found him. after a long time of misfortune and sadness. I have finally found him. we talked at the MOMA, and we talked about how we loved art. he likes what I like. he does what I do. I'm meeting him for dinner tonight."

i turned the page and smiled as I recalled that night. the day had been great, moments had passed like grains of sand in an hour glass. I liked how she smiled and spoke, her voice was enchanting as if I had known her all my life. but when I flipped the page and looked to the entry it was different. it was skipped and time mattered little. I had turned the page to read about her and me in her apartment.

"dinner was all right, we went to a place called absinthe or something, but I didn't mind. we ate and talked about the day and how we worked. then we went to my place, he had missed the Bart train to the east bay and it was already one in the morning. so I let him stay the night. I swear he looked like a child all scared and alone in a new place he didn't want to be at. But he looked so cute that way. he was innocent, he was scared that he might screw up and he didn't know what to do. I could have laughed at him when I set up his bed and he sat there on the couch blinking and twiddling his thumbs. I could have sworn he was scared to death of me. But I couldn't help myself and give him a kiss. And actual kiss! I feel so happy that I found him, but I have made him more uncomfortable by doing that. I felt that surge of blood blow into his limp organ then felt it stretch and tear in his pants. Like a shaft poking out and stabbing my thigh. I giggled in his lips when he did that. Looking down at it and smiling as he turned cherry red. I wanted to touch it, the hard tube between his legs, but he sat down."

I couldn't help but shake my head when I read that, how embarrassing now that I'm reading her thoughts and that I'm recollecting my courage. Knowing that I could have done something different that night. Now that I think about that moment I realize that maybe it was a good thing that I sat down and blushed, she liked how I was scared and she enjoyed it. maybe that's why I screwed up on this. I flipped the pages and read once more, skipping over that little embarrassing moment. Turning to a page when we had finally been together the night on the boat. The night when we had our first love making.

"he smiled at me and held me close tonight, I could have sworn he was drunk, or maybe I was. But I remember everything. When we went into the room and he laid me down on the soft mattress in the bottom. I wore blue jeans and a shirt, he was wearing only boxers. Funny how he was pretty much nude on the boat and I was fully clothed. I don't like the water. But I did like him. He was smiling as we kissed. I felt his lips curl upwards on mine. His tongue had lapped over my upper lip and my eyes closed. His hands were over and around me, caressing small moments of my bodice and then I felt his hand touch flesh. I blushed when I looked down to my now open shirt and his hand over my left breast. God I was so wet when he rubbed my nipples with his thumb and index fingers. Each little pinch I felt my chest lift with each breath I took. His hands were electric as I shocked under him.

He smiled and began to kiss the right one now, cupping his lips over my nipple and sucking it soft then hard. I was helping him out with the bottom, how is it that he could be so clumsy at times as well. He couldn't get my pants unzipped. I laughed at him for that, it was funny watching him groan in dislike at it, so I helped him with it. undoing them then pulling them down, the look on his face when he saw me clean shaven. He blinked for about a minute then smiled. That's when I felt him cover over my labia. I couldn't breath when his fingers spread my clit open and started rubbing me. I'm shivering right now remembering that moment. I closed my eyes and started to weep from the inside, I loved it how he let his tongue dab my clit first then lick lower into me. It was like I was his toy then. I couldn't help but smile and press myself into his face. Just to tease him as he was between my legs and lapping like there was no future in the world and it was the last night on earth.

I don't think I came, no I think I did, yes I did, cause he was dripping me when he came up for breath. That is so embarrassing to have that happen. I cant believe I did that too. but I know that I liked it. I liked how he tasted me and held me down. I loved how his tongue felt between my lips and in my opening. I loved how he made me shiver even though I wasn't cold. I love how he made me feel like I was on a roller coaster and I was the ride. Both of us laid down naked on the floor of the boat. He didn't like getting head, but he enjoyed eating me out. I think I like that of him. I don't like giving head, and I don't like choking, but I do like it when he licks me. Holding my breasts and pressing his face to my private part, licking me and suckling at my inner juices. Damnit, I have to clean myself again, I will write in you again my friend, don't worry."

I couldn't help but smile now. A sigh escaped me and I sat there on the bed that we had slept in for about a year. The same bed that held memories or screaming. Both from us fighting and from us making love. Now that I really think about it. I should have never doubted her. Maybe its because I'm a man. But each day without her, each day without her here I feel more empty inside and out. Maybe its how men are. Held in and never free. free like women. Free like the ones we love. Thinking about how we first made love was like looking back to our passed. Which sadly is the truth. I did miss her. I do miss her. And I will never forget that night on the boat when I took her and tasted her. When I felt her spurge her juices into my mouth and let me taste her nectar. God how I miss her.