There are moments that seem, at the time, so inconsequential but turn out to be the moments that define us, change us. An action and reaction that set in motion life altering decisions and causes the mind and body to change. A relatively limited interaction that reaches into the infinity of the soul and converts it.

She was that for me.

I thought she couldn't be real. Her sadness and yearning bled through her words and across miles to reach into me and touch me. Had I met someone as beautifully broken as I, someone who could understand the plaster smiles and endless parade of pretending?

She's moving on top of me, her hair falling forward brushing against my cheeks and shoulders like angel feathers. Her breath is hot against my ear, her small whimpers of desire and need coursing through me like lightning bolts of lust. I feel her sex hot against my leg, the liquid of her arousal spreading across me like rain across a desert. I soak up her offering and demand more as I turn her beneath me to lie under me.

Our eyes lock. I'm drowning in their unfathomable depths.

What is she thinking? What is she feeling as her eyes fall to my lips and flicker back up to my eyes? Her hands slide into my hair and pull me to her, our lips meeting softly as though any more pressure would pop this moment like a child's bubble that dances delicately along a breath.

My hands are on either side of her head, holding me above her as I fall deeper into her kisses. I'm shaking under the weight of my feelings that I hold inside, unspoken and unrequited. Her nails scratch lightly across my scalp and I moan against her lips.

I pull away and look down her body, each peak and trail hungry and begging for my kiss and touch. Without pause I bow my head and take a nipple between my teeth, my tongue flicking across it in hard licks. She arches and releases a breathy whimper, her hands holding me tightly to her. Her legs spread further as my questing hand moves gently down her side and trails across her thigh, searching for the entrance to my own personal heaven and hell.

My fingertips graze her sex and we both gasp. She is so wet for me; her body responding passionately where words fail. I pull her nipple between my lips and suck deeply as my I slide my hand to cup her, her heat spreading across my palm like a sacrament. She pulls my head into a kiss and as her tongue slides across my lips I enter her in a shallow thrust, my body melting as her sex pulses and clings.

She throws her head back, her eyes closing briefly before locking onto mine as she thrusts against me. Her moans and whispered pleas are like my personal pied piper. I follow her down the road she shows me as I slip another finger beside the first and travel further inside her. Curling my fingers I read the rough ridges of her body like braille, the language ancient and written in the depths of primal need.

My name is pulled from her lips as I fuck her harder and faster, my thrusts corkscrewing deeper inside of her. The sound drives me to claim her, to take her and own her in this moment shared between us. Her arms twine around my neck and she pulls me close before scratching her nails down my back. I lick and nibble her neck, my breath panting and hot against her as her legs wrap around me holding me tighter.

She cries out as I stop my movement. Turning, she looks at me almost accusingly before pulling me to her in a kiss that sears in its intensity. I felt as though she branded me in that moment from the heat that flowed between us. Her eyes swim with emotion and I try to capture the unspoken feeling. She closes her eyes, shutting me out, and I feel a momentary sense of profound loss.

I move down her body, my lips and tongue worshiping her as I move slowly inside of her, keeping her body high and wanting. I can smell her arousal and it makes me almost growl with the ache to taste her. She pushes her hips towards me and without hesitation I run my tongue up her slit. She tastes divine, earthy and sweet, fresh like rainwater rolling down sweaty skin. I devour her, my lips and tongue working against her, lifting her body towards ecstasy as she trembles beneath me. I am a penitent, asking for her love and forgiveness while performing stations upon her body.

My fingers begin to move within her, fucking her growing tightness with a determined single focus. She reaches down to me, her fingers holding tightly to my hair while her body fucks my face and hands. She cries out, the sound piercing me, circling within me like a prayer as my name falls from her lips like a chant. She releases against me, her nectar flowing into my mouth like a solemn offering to take the place of emotions she will not return.

A moment. A point in time where I was more and less than I've ever been, a moment that changed and defined me, released me from delusions and fantasy. She is my savior, my affliction, the darkness that consumes me and the light that blinds me.

And she will use me again and I will gladly come to her call. My body, heart, and soul falling at her feet like a supplicant ready to prostrate myself for her sexual blessing. I am not in denial. I know there is no other way than this: where she exists so to do I.

Sometimes I look back on the beginning of this and I try to pinpoint the moment I fell. I tell myself that it can't possibly be the first moment I saw her. But I know it is. Something about the way she stood there alone while the world moved around her in a lurid dance of seduction drew me to her. She was against a backdrop of humanity, the world painting itself around her as though each passing second a stroke from a brush.

I felt the abyss in her gaze and yet I willingly looked back.

The world turned and I knew it was on the verge of spinning out of control but I was helpless to tear my gaze away.

I knew she didn't love me but that she was in love with the idea that I was in love with her. She needed my attention, needed to know that I would debase myself for her, would sacrifice all pride and reason for just the idea that she could love me. She was in love with my world, in love with the ideas and freedoms that surrounded me, but she was almost contemptuous of the feelings I had for her.

But, like a dog rebuked and kicked, hiding in a corner, one soft word and gentle gesture and I was kneeling before her, panting and licking while she croons to me, her hand cupping my head and pulling me closer. I tell myself this is love and I hold onto that thought like a mantra as she comes undone beneath my mouth, my lips, my hands.

She was in love with the way I made her feel, and my heart decided it was enough. When she was crying out my name and calling to god in the same sentence I felt it was enough. And it was until it wasn't. Until I tired of the come hither, go away. Until I tired of never knowing where I stood and what I should do. Should I call? Should I text? Would it be welcome? If I didn't, would the missed monosyllabic answers she would give suddenly become barriers between us? Would she let me silence lie between us becoming an impenetrable barrier?

It's almost feral the way I long for her. At times, I attach her body to my hands and mouth, and she willingly melts to me. The animal in me feels satisfied as she purrs in submissive pleasure. I twine my soul tighter to hers but the red cords of fate come undone no matter how many knots I tie. I am undone by my heart's desire and unmade by it as well.

I think that one day she will look at me with wonder as she discovers what has been in front of her all along, that one day she will understand that she is the embodiment of my heartbeat, that I have always been hers. A dark part of me wants the day to come so that in that moment, I can rebuff her, snub the feelings and light the kindling of her shame as has for me. It hurts me deeply to understand that my love is now bound by regret and shame, that I can no longer love her as innocently and wondrously as before, but that now the love is equal parts hate.

I'm lost; a stranger on her path with no guidance, the light lost behind the storm that rages tempestuously along my way. I can see clearly behind me in the place where there is no she and I, but I drop my shoulders and steadfastly turn forwards to brave the torrential rains and winds. I won't leave her, I can't. I fall further under her spell, curses dripping from her lips as she places her venomous kisses upon my lips. I am her thrall, willingly sacrificing my happiness for hers, willingly guiding my heart and head towards a hell of my own making.

She's my Sword of Damocles. She's my Odyssey.

She's my Swan Song.