There are thousands of ways to describe you, and at the same time none at all. You are ink without paper, wind, earth, fire rolling around the world, using, twisting, and abusing hearts and minds. Free in some senses of the word, and at the same time so constricted you can hardly breathe.
You long for freedom. It's always been your one unattainable goal – to act on every whim and impulse you have, to have no-one holding you down or chaining you back to the old pecking order. Your boundaries are set to instruct and guide you, but you only ever saw them as bars. Unlike the people who surrounded you, wearing wigs and beautiful dresses, you sensed there was something beyond all that was your world.
And you wanted it. Didn't just want it – needed it. You saw me stumble into your life, then just as quickly slip back out again. You wanted me, didn't you love? Me, and everything I stood for. I felt your breath on my lip as you gazed defiantly into my eyes for the very first time. I heard your harsh words, but I saw your eyes taking me in, and I felt you wanting it.
I saw you that night. Through a haze of rum and roaring flames dancing and bowing to the night around us, I saw you. Your arms were up and you were whirling and singing and dancing and laughing. Your hair flew out around you in a tangled, spun-gold mass of fire and in that moment, for the first time in your world, you were free.
I have never desired anything more than I desire freedom.
Kissing her felt like everything was falling into place for the very first time. There were voices – exceptionally loud, some of them – screaming that something was amiss, something was wrong – but I ignored them. Her lips on mine tasting so curiously sweet. One hand curled at my neck, caressing those screaming voices away so easily.
I never let myself realise what she was doing until I felt the cold band of metal about my wrist. And even before I opened my eyes to see the defiance once again written into every angle of her face, I knew every real intention in her mind.
But there was something about me, love, wasn't there? When you looked at me for the last time. I could feel it in the touch of your hand, see it in the dropping of your eyes in hopeless, hopeless desperation. Breath – ragged, sharp breaths with the pain of what you was doing to me. But you always were willing to do whatever it took. We are very much alike, you and I, love, and in that moment you knew it. "I'm not sorry," you whispered, and I had to smile. I never thought for one instant that you would be.
"Pirate."
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- Mooncheese xxx