Aching Obsession

I watch as your eyes close every few seconds, your head bowing down and then snapping back to attention. You’re on the brink of slumber, knowing you need the rest but not having the heart to fall asleep during the Chemistry lecture. Oh your heart. Such a good heart, young, alive and beating strong. Lazily your eyes roll to the back of your skull, and you sit up straight, rubbing your hands on your face to awaken your senses. But your mind is overpowering and within minutes you give up the struggle.1

From across the room I watch you. The fluorescent light softly highlights your handsome features. Your head is laying gently on your slender arm. The long black lashes of your closed eyes leave the faintest shadow on your golden skin. Maybe I’m the only one to ever realize this. I remember having that golden skin at my mercy. The warmth and softness of it still lingers on my dry lips. 2

I knew your heart and soul before you even set eyes on me. I knew about the pain lodged in your heart from your mother leaving you when you was a young boy. Something had awakened inside me and I was compelled with the urge to take that pain away. To chase the sorrow away with kisses. The sorrow that had built up over the few years of your life. Yes, how few were the years compared to my own. None of that had mattered to you. You had been entranced by the beauty you beheld in your eyes. My voice had been so promising, so enticing to your young being. You cared not of the danger that could very well become of you.3

Oh, but I loved you. My soul was aflame by your gentle ways. You was soft where I was hard, strong where I was weak. So gentle, yet made of iron. The perfect combination to the vault I had been searching for a millennia. Many nights you sat in front of my fire with a glass of my 14th century red wine and talked with me about the wonders of the world. How the freedom of this country’s government was truly a dictatorship. How the spring leaves of an oak tree looked when light shown through them. We shared the same views. Along with those views we shared laughs, caresses, and secrets. After awhile I was satisfied with our bound trust. I was crazy about you. So deep was my love for you that I was ready to reveal what no other mortal had ever known.4

You left me after you knew my true nature. I had looked at you with hesitant eyes as you stumbled and stuttered, backing up against the wall in fear. You took no heed in my words, my promise that I would do you no harm. Though my heart was speared with the deepest amount of pain I had ever experienced, I respected your request. If it was what you wished, I would do it in a heartbeat.5

Now I stand a few yards away. Your steady heartbeat is a comforting memory. Now one is aware that I stand in this room. The professor’s voice drones on, the soft scratch of pencils is detected by my ears only. And you, my lost beauty, have only the slightest knowledge of my presence when an enticing voice speaks to you in your dreams.6

“You’re still mine.”7