I can still remember the first time our eyes met, we never spoke in words yet we knew each others troublesome secrets and desires. I knew the first time that I read your mind beneath your cold icy stare lie a venerable shy woman, who could never trust again, whose innocence had been used up when she was a child, who had endured the indignities of a mean oppressive father who saw his daughter as an albatross around his neck after a night of drunkenness with a stranger, your mother, a distant self serving vain women of privilege.
I remember most of all the beauty of your very being, the piercing blueness of your smoldering eyes as they read my soul, your waist length raven colored hair, as it cascaded down over your shoulders, the ends licking at the subtle delicate curve of your hips as you sat, obscuring your voluptuous breasts which were hidden safely away from prying eyes beneath a soft cashmere sweater.
We often sat in silence, never speaking in words, yet knowing what the other was thinking, the electricity of wanton desire to taste each others flesh, to cleave to one another’s souls upon a bed of lust; I would often wonder how we had found one another.
How did two lost lonely souls, who could never trust, never reveal our true selves and speak like a normal man and woman sit in silence, and not act upon our desires, our animalistic nature to reach out and consume each others soul? Was it coincidence or fate which brought us together? I don’t think that we were ever meant to know.
I will never forget the night it happened. The night we all came together, you, me, our gang of friends we shared socially. As I folded my cards and lost yet another round of poker to the other participants in the game, I remember staring through the open passage to the kitchen where you stood at the stove stirring the gravy for the evening holiday meal. How I gazed upon your being, drank in your essence, lost in a trance as the very presence of you pulled me in, transfixed, you took me back, took me back to the time when I was a child, when I had seen you in a dream, how you had helped me, healed me, took away the pain that was always present in my heart ever since that one fateful day in the barn when an older boy had spilled his milky white seed upon my face after forcing me to take him in my mouth.
As my soul filled with your warmth from across the expanse of the apartment, I remember that you slowly turned in my direction and smiled. The look in your eyes, warm, your guard down, the cold icy stare had melted and I was able to gaze deep into your soul and understand your pain, understand how you had been hurt, how as a child your innocence had been taken in a mad rush as a schoolboy twice your age had molested and raped you in the empty basement at school, destroying your virgin hairless flower, spilling his evil seed into you, laughing as he pulled his bloody cock from you and wiped it off on your small tender thigh where his grip had left a swelling bruise.
The dinner you prepared that night nourished me as we all enjoyed the holiday feast you had delicately prepared. We had made some small talk as we all sat and shared the meal and drank wine from crystal glasses. As we ate, our eyes spoke to one another; once again, we shared tortured memories that no one else at the table could probably comprehend. Whether we wanted to face the reality and tread where we knew the power between us would be too strong, you and I were both kindred spirits, cut from the same spiritual cloth, yet so damaged that silk thread would not have done justice to our open wounds.
After the feast, over coffee, and the chocolate cake that you had made, our eyes secured the deal between us. Our pact was that we would never speak to anyone of our pain, our torture, but we would share it only with each other, drown in it, letting our souls meld together in order to heal the wounds even if it meant that the power within our souls would drive us forever apart, knowing we would not have the strength and will to control the desire to consume one another and that one or both of us would parish.
Later that evening, our friends and I bid you farewell, and thanked you once again for an excellent meal, for your warmth and generosity, although I knew better, knew the cold torment which encased your soul and that the reflection others saw in your eyes was merely a ruse, your shield of armor against the world.
I lingered behind as I often did, not wanting to face the chill of the cold night air that awaited me. For I knew that within the walls of your house, your domain, I was understood, I was welcome, I could stay as long as need be, keeping to myself, not having to speak, not having to share my thoughts with anyone.
I remember as the last of our friends, stepped over the threshold of your humble abode, I stood, frightened like a young school boy to face the outside world, my eyes searching for yours, finding them, the cold icy frost that you displayed for the world gone, inviting me to look into your soul to nourish you, to quench your being.
