In the bedroom of my life there have been many travelers...and many more who have not graced my sheets. One such occupant has stepped into the doorway of my inner sanctum to never have warmed my bed. Riff stood insainly tall. Was devilishly handsome and captivated my every fiber. He challenged me without saying a word and was my other half without being too alike or different. He followed me without question, and yet seemed to lead the way.
When we were lost I looked to him, and it was then that I realized he was the reason I had strayed.
His eyes told the story of his soul. Riff had been there and back again, without the hobbits and wizards. The boyhood charm mixed with a man's mind was immediately noticed and challenged. Youthfulness and pleasure poured from him and gave me great hope of hitting 28, without taking care of oneself...
I saw the first line drawn then into the second...it wasn't to be the last...
Riff's calculated moves were a part of the dance his life was made of. He couldn't let anyone in for fear of showing himself. The tragedy was that he wanted to show someone everything. It was too sorted a past, too much for anyone to handle...
...a breath came and he knew something would slip...tumble, fall, glance, recover...
His body had one defect that drove me wild...a sunken in chest...it was a birth defect that had caused him great unease as a child...but was unique and exposing of the flaw that was his current life...
He called out of the blue whenever he called and had good intention...never would he admit that, because for so long the shadow of his past would haunt him...tell him stories that this could not be it...
...it was a lust unholy...No that could not be, it is pure, no how can I be pure...
the door to the bedroom remains open...for one it is an open door to explore, two a door that is open must be walked through, three a door walked through must be closed if either to leave or to stay..........
This is too hard for now...
Lestat
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