My Mistress War
I will always think of her. Sometimes fondly. And sometimes with disgust and hate. When I wake up holding onto my wife, I think of her. In the quiet hours when I’m alone, it is her I am with. She is always on my mind. She is all I think about.
I miss her, and the way she smelled. When we were together I hardly slept. She would keep me up all night. And now, more with every passing day, it is during the darkest hours of the night that I lay awake thinking of the time we spent together.
Her hate kept me warm when I was cold. Her rage fueled me, drove me, and drove me crazy. Her screams still haunt me, something to never be unheard.
She made me a man. She took what innocent and childish ways that I had, and replaced them with a lust and desire for the forbidden. I still want her. I still need her. Nearly a decade after our first encounter, and I still feel her presence everywhere.
With her, I felt as though I was exactly who I was supposed to be. I always knew what I had to do. And life was simple. Not easy, but simple.
And then it was over. I knew I would never see her again but I could never have expected how lonely I would be without her. In nearly every room of my house there is some sort of memento to remind me of her. My body carries scars and tattoos for her. I close my eyes and I see her. When I sit in silence I hear her screams.
I want her. Always. I need her. Never again.
She was my mistress, and will be always.
My mistress War…