Toys
There were great years in my life as a half of two: Wondrous and tender; exciting and meaningful bits of how I looked at life through that prism of spiritual connections defined me. It’s rather hard to review all I have been to my lovers so I can move forward into a calm and sweet future with my new lover.
Before I met my lover, all looked bleak and I had resigned myself to be a lonesome post in my own Street. How could I describe how meeting someone who loves me without the physical expression of my tears in a succinct way? I find I cannot.
How the title of this story becomes clear is about all that came before him; I was a toy. Couples and random strangers left a mad mark on my neck during the intense artificial love we had. Well, this time is about asking for those purple marks because I want them. Because I am proud to belong. Two big male chests that beat together and the different smoothness of our hands belie a trust, respect and surrender we have both agreed to own until the end.
Waves of fear and an unbecoming uncertainty have made me close my eyes to feel rain on my face. What sorrow there is in good-byes to my toys. I leave them to be played with by others. From now on it’s two, not just one.
Text: © Orlando Barahona
Image : © Tony Alter/Flickr
Image : © Tony Alter/Flickr
This work by Orlando Barahona is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
