I hope he doesn’t read this.

He believed his prime was 20 years past,

I believed it was just beginning,

He was underestimated,

Ridden with scars,

And had seen it all,

I was hooked on every word,

Every thought that dripped from his lips,

And how each was so finely detailed and alike mine,

Every sexual desire that awoke me with tremors,

And left me haunted in the dark with cravings for more,

Every story that made me wish I had known him sooner,

Just to be there, to comfort him and hold his hand,

Every twisted theory,

And it was just as though he was a mind reader,

Or we had known each other somehow before,


I had never met someone that could put me in a trance,

And put me in such a state before,

I was confused and consumed,

Constantly longing for his next anecdote,

He spoke of his darkest days,

His wild adventures,

His ideals,

His deepest secrets,

His cravings,

And his untamed thirst for life,

I saw myself in him more than anyone else,

I saw myself with him more than anyone else,

If only each twisted soul alike were easy to love,

Easy to grasp and embrace,

But he was far from it,

How can two free souls be in unison but fleeting all at once?


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