Disclaimer: They're not mine. So don't try suing, all right? It'd be like
getting blood from a stone.
I don't know what to do with myself. It's like being under the protection of God or one of his angels when I'm with this man. Or, conversely, under Satan and one of his. Either way, he's wrapped me in the security of his strength, his warmth, his soul. And I'm quite sure I'll never want to leave, not now. Not now that I've finally got him where I want him.
He doesn't consider himself when he does things. He regards everything in a purely "cause and effect" mentality. She'll react like this if I do that, and the like. Not to be mistaken with self-lessness, mind you. He regards himself in survival terms. I can save my ass by doing, or not doing this. Almost like his thoughts concerning himself are purely instinctual, and nothing more. It disturbs me to see that he can function this way, so detached from his humanity. In the end, I suppose that's because of his military training. My only concern, is how will he ever recover all that he's lost?
I want to help him recover. I want to help him survive the loss of the purest and quietest form of himself. You see, when I look into those eyes, those dark, dusky blue eyes of his, I don't see the raging animal image he's come to project. Instead, I see his humanity which, in stark contrast, is quite serene and peaceful.
All of this brings up the question of how he came to be like this, so hard and secretive. Many, as I stated earlier, could chalk it to his military training. Some might suggest it all started when his powers manifested. Others could say he hadn't a shred of humanity in him to begin with. But if that's the case, why start now? Why try to right all the wrongs of inborn sin now after all is said and done?
He looks at me and reads the confusion on my face. He asks me what's wrong, and I tell him that he's a puzzle to me. I can tell he's not quite sure how to take that. At first it looks as though he'll be angry, but he looks in my eyes and those dusky blues tell me he feels the same way. I tell him it'll be all right and we'll help him find his past. For after all, a man cannot truly see his future without first knowing his past. He smiles and tells me to stop using such big words around him, it makes his head hurt.
And that is my Logan, a complete and utter breathing puzzle. A scientific feat, a walking bio-chemical work of art. He is also a man. It is very hard to use that word today in our world of mutants. But he is a man, my Logan. From his wing-tip hair to his rounded toes, he is man. With all of his heart and soul he is man. I know this because I am woman. As we are one in the same at our earliest cellular stage, we are one in the same, now and forever. So whether he was mutant or human, he is man. A man that I love, and care for deeply. I'd fight a god for him, as I know he'd do the same for me.
That is comfort in its own, I guess. I smile at him as he runs his fingers through my hair, his other hand lay flat on my stomach. Our complexions contrast well, his light against my dark. I suppose that's the beauty of it, the contrast of it all. His quiet soul and his raging heart... He's looking at me again, asking what I keep thinking about. I tell him, for lack of "big word", nothing in particular, and he smiles back. He kisses me and holds me close, and I feel safe.
Resolving not to think for the rest of the night, I snuggle in his powerful arms and will myself to sleep. I can think about this in tomorrow, or, more specifically, during the professor's statistics class.
Feedback: navydragon261@yahoo.com
I don't know what to do with myself. It's like being under the protection of God or one of his angels when I'm with this man. Or, conversely, under Satan and one of his. Either way, he's wrapped me in the security of his strength, his warmth, his soul. And I'm quite sure I'll never want to leave, not now. Not now that I've finally got him where I want him.
He doesn't consider himself when he does things. He regards everything in a purely "cause and effect" mentality. She'll react like this if I do that, and the like. Not to be mistaken with self-lessness, mind you. He regards himself in survival terms. I can save my ass by doing, or not doing this. Almost like his thoughts concerning himself are purely instinctual, and nothing more. It disturbs me to see that he can function this way, so detached from his humanity. In the end, I suppose that's because of his military training. My only concern, is how will he ever recover all that he's lost?
I want to help him recover. I want to help him survive the loss of the purest and quietest form of himself. You see, when I look into those eyes, those dark, dusky blue eyes of his, I don't see the raging animal image he's come to project. Instead, I see his humanity which, in stark contrast, is quite serene and peaceful.
All of this brings up the question of how he came to be like this, so hard and secretive. Many, as I stated earlier, could chalk it to his military training. Some might suggest it all started when his powers manifested. Others could say he hadn't a shred of humanity in him to begin with. But if that's the case, why start now? Why try to right all the wrongs of inborn sin now after all is said and done?
He looks at me and reads the confusion on my face. He asks me what's wrong, and I tell him that he's a puzzle to me. I can tell he's not quite sure how to take that. At first it looks as though he'll be angry, but he looks in my eyes and those dusky blues tell me he feels the same way. I tell him it'll be all right and we'll help him find his past. For after all, a man cannot truly see his future without first knowing his past. He smiles and tells me to stop using such big words around him, it makes his head hurt.
And that is my Logan, a complete and utter breathing puzzle. A scientific feat, a walking bio-chemical work of art. He is also a man. It is very hard to use that word today in our world of mutants. But he is a man, my Logan. From his wing-tip hair to his rounded toes, he is man. With all of his heart and soul he is man. I know this because I am woman. As we are one in the same at our earliest cellular stage, we are one in the same, now and forever. So whether he was mutant or human, he is man. A man that I love, and care for deeply. I'd fight a god for him, as I know he'd do the same for me.
That is comfort in its own, I guess. I smile at him as he runs his fingers through my hair, his other hand lay flat on my stomach. Our complexions contrast well, his light against my dark. I suppose that's the beauty of it, the contrast of it all. His quiet soul and his raging heart... He's looking at me again, asking what I keep thinking about. I tell him, for lack of "big word", nothing in particular, and he smiles back. He kisses me and holds me close, and I feel safe.
Resolving not to think for the rest of the night, I snuggle in his powerful arms and will myself to sleep. I can think about this in tomorrow, or, more specifically, during the professor's statistics class.
Feedback: navydragon261@yahoo.com