I take my make up off. I fall asleep in a bed that doesn’t belong to me. I listen to Emma Shapplin but I couldn’t make out any French words, I close my eyes, and the tears have come out from no where, trailing down my face. At the absence of my heart, I listen to my brain. And my brain is telling me everything is going to be all right after all.

Last night I told you that I received a post card from my heart. I told you before millions of times, my heart is on sabbatical, traveling the world, having a great time. My heart sent me a post card I told you, and it said “great coffee, in Prague now”. You laughed and called me “being silly”.

My heart has been on sabbatical. I curved up in your arms. My nakedness against your skin.  You took a deep breath and held me tight. I look into your eyes. Your hazel eyes covered by such long eyelashes, your skin soft, your whole body breath the youth that was once my own. I’m not sure what I’m to you. I’m older, wiser (maybe), intriguing, and attractive. You took me in with such gentleness, that caressing sends such a large pleasure into my spine, I stretched like a cat. You were such a wonderful lover. I breathed your youthfulness and intended to transcend it into my own energy.

My heart has been on sabbatical. I realized that because I no longer have the drive, the inspiration to move onto what once was precious. I can’t love anyone, when I barely have the energy to love myself. You are the skilled one, the one with more faith, the one who’s convinced that I’d be happy if I was your girlfriend.

“What do you want?”

I asked.

“I want a relationship.” You answered. “I want you to be my girlfriend, me your boyfriend.”

I wrinkled my nose.  The dreaded word called “relationship”. I once was convinced that those young men knew what they wanted, but I was wrong.

“You know I’m not ready for that shit!” I was impatient.

“Then I will try harder.” You said.

I love having sex with you. You were energetic, enthusiastic, talented, and you satisfy my increasing appetite. You were one of the few.

I remembered the first time we went out. Dinner at this fusion restaurant by Union Square. You brought me beautiful flowers, standing in the middle was a single dark red rose. I was surprised. I smiled and talked rapidly. After the dinner we went to see a movie. I curved up in the seat, head on your shoulder. I took your hand and held it. I kissed your hand and rubbed my face in it.

I remembered you took my hand and held it really tight. I remembered you stared at me, intensely across the bar, and you smiled when I looked up to find you.

I have no more faith. No more faith that what I want is out there. I feel cheated, deceived, played. I am angry still towards myself, for having let my heart hanging out there, for having let my vulnerability to take over my better instinct, to have fallen for the wrong kind of guys, to have let my guard down, to have been so easily convinced that I was loved once, or twice.

I love your body. The way you make love to me. I love seduction, seducing you, having you serve me and please me and then vise versa. I want indulgence without emotional attachment. I want to feel the freedom of fucking whomever I want to fuck, I want to laugh, I want to feel the strength, and I want nothing serious, or heartfelt, I want none of that. I want to be goofy, light hearted, I want to have no expectations, I want to just enjoy life.
 

The heart is on sabbatical. The soul is crying for the very last drop of tear. I take it that there are no more doors. I take it that I have no other choice. I take it that you like me a lot. And I love the way you adored me so. I love the youth you radiate. I am the vampire that is sucking your energy away. I no longer know what love can do for others. My day is full of darkness. You shall no longer see what’s the weak, and tomorrow, tomorrow is full of magic. I am the black widow, I dance, and you follow.

The torch is lit, and the candle is burning. My crying soul has been eaten alive, I can no longer feel any pain. I’m on a mission to destroy faith. You are my younger lover. I summon you with my magical figures, I take you in and suck you alive. You surrender to me, you are mystified by the illusions, and you think you are up for the challenge. I am crying inside, for you, for your faith, and for my own lost soul.

But outside, I’m as happy as I can ever be. I enjoy you so, every night we spend together, I enjoy you so, every kiss we exchange, I enjoy you so. Don’t look inside of my eyes, you will only see a mirage.
 

You are tall, Scandinavian blood, with light blue eyes and a skier’s built. You spoke with that northern European accent, you steal stars from me when I look up to find you, by the ski slopes. In my car, you take my hand, slowly massages each figure. You ask, “how’s going my snowboard princess?” You hide yourself behind the shining, reflective sunglasses, but I sense your eyes dancing, those intense blue smiling eyes. You never fail to call. You are my regular Wednesday night caller.

I met you on a dreaded night. Towards the end of last year, the love affairs with two different men who I loved equally and intensely broke into disasters.  I had exhausted myself emotionally yet at the same time I learnt that I had let my emotional self destroyed me.  In limelight, I recognized my weakness was my own strength, however, I was with the wrong type of people who had taken advantage of my own strength and in return destroyed me emotionally.

The heart has been broken twice this year – and it’s only February. I can not risk much more. I tell myself that I’ll lay low and listen to the music instead. I can afford to spoil myself now. I can take care myself even better. I have no one but myself to report to these days. And I find myself wonder if the true love does exist.

I have no answers. My inspiration died the day when my heart is broken into millions of pieces. I had been taken advantage of – not once but twice. I had no one but myself to blame, for I had fallen into the romantic notion so hard – and anyone in my life at the time would have received my undivided attention and burning passion.

Now I know that I’m no longer the one who needs to pray. I know just the right thing to say, I know what button to push, I know how to act, when to call, when to write, when to close my heart and just let the nature take course.

Sublime love. Would you take my heart and break apart like the rest of them did? Or would I be the one who will eventually break your heart? I have no answers. I simply am here, today, receiving you, your tenderness, your caressing, your phone call and  your late night visits.

For two plus years, I’ve lived in the past, and my shadowy figure had disallowed me to see the present, the one truth that I forgot to memorize. I forgot about myself. I forgot that I needed to love myself more than loving the other. I forgot that I had never been part of his life, and everything else was only a burden to my own remorse.

For two plus years, I searched for the unattainable. And I loved someone who never loved me back.

At night now I still dream about him. He got older, less fit, he sought me out from the crowd. At night I still dream about him. He wanted me then, in my dreams, I was finally his lust again. At night, I met him again at F&A, he looked good though much older, he looked at me and he asked me to write a book, and I said “yes” to him, I can never refuse him. He was my one and only. But then he faded into the background, and then he disappeared just like the way he entered into my life.

In more than one ways, I wonder if I could sustain your interest in me and my interest in you. But I know the truth is, I don’t care either or. I am drifting in a motionless state.  Every day I wonder when I can be back to the state where I can write again. But I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.