She was a Hadron Collider, and I was a hyperactive Tardigrade.

She was like a loon call at dusk. Scary and forlorn but seductive as a cicadas droning in the darkening twilight. She was like a 1950’s mom with cookies and an ice cold glass of whole milk, but then you notice she’s naked under the apron and is sporting a jeweled buttplug in her ass, wanton and pussy spread the soft sounds of moist skin being pulled apart…. Like no one had told her it was night, as if she sang without time.

That is always what it is with her. Like singing without the worry of time.

We could be in a snowstorm, an earthquake, a tornado…and I know we are always going to have a fun time together in this apocalypse. 

She is my starlit lover, my enchanting evening, my simple honorable love.

She is mine. This I know and it’s a weird feeling. I have never felt like anyone was mine. Was someone that I…look I know this might sounds bad, but that’s ok. But there is her that is who she is and likes and dislikes and whatnot.

She is mine. I do not mean this in a wishy washy sense. I mean this is a life or death sense.

Mine.

And that is a very different thing than just being with people for a bit. Because this feeling was never obtained. This possession. This ownership. It is threaded through our entire life. Such a wonderful thing, possession when used the right way. I never knew I wanted that or needed that. This violent embrace and kiss. 

I know that this means she is mine, every night, all night if I would like, but sometimes I just want to hold her hand and lay next to her and read books and talk. And sometimes my cock is balls deep inside of her ass and all she can do is grunt, like some dirty slut drunk on my cock as I fuck her mercilessly and blow my cum deep in her ass, and I feel her legs squirm as she feels my sperm spurt inside her, a high pitched keening coming from her mouth, as I push my forehead hard into the back of her head and cum for her. Gasping along the back of her neck. 

But it not only means this, but it means that when we go out, when we dress up…it’s for me. It’s to turn me on, entice and seduce. When we are laughing and joking at dinner, it is me she has eyes for, me who she flirts with, me who she takes home and there is never a worry. Not one second, that she would stray. I look at what is here, not fears, and I know she will always come home with me.

You would think I would use this to my advantage…I do. But just to love her more. To blossom correctly.

Does that make sense? Sometimes you meet people and you don’t grow. And sometimes you meet people and the way you grow is so perfect and good, you wonder why you hadn’t thought to do this by yourself.

Here’s an idea for you to ponder. I think there are times in your life where you make people better than they are because it helps you live forward in your life. And there are other times where you meet true super heroes, true god and goddesses and creatures and things.

I think she is a True thing. I do not need to layer anything on her. Like a Roman god she came out fully formed sans the perpetual hard on.

She is a true thing and I am a non believer. I’m not Christian, Norse, Pagan. Not Buddhist or anything else. But I’d worship at her temple and suck her pussy through every timeline I could find.  Through every plot twist that would come along. We are Inseparable, like those dogs that get stuck together but sit there panting and smiling. Content. 

She is class and elegance. She is dark and violent. Her anger sets my scalp aflame. Her sadness breaks me. Her laughter is my swan song. Her smile…favorite canvas to paint on.

That is not to say that she is perfect, far from it. But she is perfect to me. I say that, I do. I say that with the full knowledge of her frailties. Mine. At one moment she could be a China doll, posed above a windy cliff, perfect and timesless and the next, she is the light on the end of her blade as she falls from the sky. She is swift and light as lightening. My own peregrine, My own sweet frightful and she doesn’t know it. She is my mountain as well as she has her own.

I am crazy. I know that. I seem nice but if you talk to me I’ll tell you stuff I’m thinking about that will change drastically tomorrow. She takes it all and loves me anyway. Doesn’t even try to keep up. Just enjoys the whole package. That is honor. That is joy and love and strength. That is power and worth.

You…you don’t get it, and I’m sorry if my words are Insufficient. I’ve been trying to tell you little by little, it all doesn’t ever feel like enough. She is my absolute favorite and always will be.

Can you sit on the couch on any given night and laugh so hard because your partner is so funny that you can’t breath? I can.

I’m sorry. This isn’t bragging in the traditional sense but I guess it is. Think of it like hope really.

I don’t think I ever deserved her. I think it was a fluke, a mistake in the universe, a flip of the coin and I stole her away. Mine. I look around sometimes and I can see the tangible luck that was really involved and I am very thankful. But I do not deserve her at all.

Look she is a highly educated, highly motivated, highly intelligent woman.

I stare at the trees for hours and make up funny stories. I walk around and take pictures of weird shit. By all sense and purposes I should probably be a serial killer, or a criminal, but I just find places to read and do hobbies really. My hobbies are every hobby in the world. I do not know why she chose me.  Honestly I don’t. I’m taking it. If you have ever been dirt poor you know what I mean. I live to find life. 

You know when you have something so good it’s worth fighting for. Rich people don’t understand that because possession for rich people is different. It is “this is mine because I own it.” It’s a side thing that is expected, for poor people it is almost always found, or just taken. For poor people it is a gift from heaven, not a status symbol.

”This is mine…No. She is mine for as long as she will have me. “ and she will have all of it. And that is a a very long time. 

Like finding a real jewel in a pile of costume jewelry.

Or replacing the fake grail with the real one.

You do a double take.

And yes she drives me bonkers, crazy. She does this stuff…ugh. Mmmhph makes me so mad. Just so happy to piss me off. 

Worth it to have her as my partner, worth the world. She’s crazy, but my crazy. My bird, my Valkyrie, my beautiful, beautiful Frightful.

When I say that to be with her is to know god it is not to say that she is doing something beside breathing. She is not. Some people perform magic, and some people are magic. She is.

Whether she is regal and proper sitting by my side telling me not to embarrass her and to stop being a ragamuffin…

Or when she is biting my earlobe jacking me off from behind as she buries her hard cock into my ass, I feel her breasts on my back, big spoon, and I shoot streams of cum on the bed sheets and her fingertips, the feel of her fingertips rubbing together, loving the silk of my orgasm,  or as she cums on my cock, as I fuck her and grasp her breasts and cover  her mouth tightly with my hand, air pushes out between my fingertips and makes me push down harder,  as she gags on her orgasm.

Mine. In every sense. And that is a truly a wonderful thing. And when I am done she lays there exhausted and satisfied, legs spread open, a pool of cum seeping from her pussy, he pussy glitters and jumps. Cum drips down and pools and she is the most lovely ravaged I have an ever seen. She looks back over her shoulder, mouth slightly open and then lays her head down satisfied again.

She worries and worries about being replaced…for a newer model, a better model. One that has cruise control, maybe a few more usb outlets, electric not gas.

Some things are just timeless. Her worth is timeless. I will never need another for as long as I live. 

Nothing, absolutely nothing compares 2 U. Jesus Sinead chill out.

But it’s true. This is where I belong. Forever and ever. Don’t care much what you think about it, this is where I stop. Sit a spell, and wait for you to stop worrying.

I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, and you truly are the treasure…not I. 

You are the reason I sing 80’s love songs all the time. You are my 80’s love song.