Hysterikos

Then:

Not sure what is wrong with me.

The closer I get to you, the more I itch and pant.

It was said that my uterus wanders, is choking me, but I know the truth.

Your neglect is the stricture around my throat.

Hysterical paroxysm brought by doctors and midwives never satisfy the yearning rooted in my brain.

It comes from my mind, no mater where it manifests. My nipples may yawn and grow hungry for your touch. My thighs quiver in anticipation of your caress.  My cunt moistens, my pussy walls clench tightly, wishing you will forcefully batter them down.

I have asked you to be with me. Not to only be fruitful but because I am joined with you. We are yoked, albeit slightly unevenly.

Yet you are away. When you are here, you treat me like glass. Chastely kiss me. Lightly hug me. Bid me a good night and walk from my door. Unfailingly polite, always solicitous.

But distant.  For in truth, I am an accessory.

Only that, after all.

Jarring

You called me, angry.

Someone needed to bear your rage; I was closest to you in both space and time.

I was quiet, my lips burning, as you words scraped across my face.

Away you went.

I stared at the wall, seing nothingness.

Each second before you called was a deeper slide into the abysss.

Areyougone?Whathashappened?DidIdosomethingwaitwaitWAITWAIT!!!

You called back, to say you were sorry.

Urgently, you apologized and repeated your dismay at your reaction. I forgive you.

You have not yet discovered I am not strong enough to bear your rage. I do not know how to take it.

As I go to my bed tonight, I am accompanied by the fear that I will show you such a thing.

You won’t understand it at all.