Tweet
SUMMARY: Masks are hard to be stripped alone.
AUTHOR: Lexie
RATING: PG
A/N: Here's a little something I've written while waiting for my muse to wake up for real. By the way, Chapter 19 of Back from the Dead is up on the Adult Forums if anyone cares to read it.
TOUCH ME
I’d always yearned to have someone in my life who really saw me beyond the masks and the walls; someone who could touch me in secret corners nobody had reached before and make me whole.
And you came into my barren world one autumn morning and it suddenly didn’t feel that withered anymore. Who would have known the jaded soul exiled by his own father to the distant corners of his empire could have so much in common with the principled fifteen-year-old of the luminous smile? But we did. And you recognised my coldness and my cynicism for what they were, a mask just like yours. And you touched me in silent places where words only interfere. And we touched each other in sad places where only whispering makes sense, places which held memories that had shaped us and whose resonance haunted us.
Time and choices, hurting and bitterness pulled us apart and eventually brought us together because there’s no one better than us to understand the world is more than just black and white. It’s in the morning when the darkness of the night still clings that I need you to touch me. And the need grows stronger when the hours elapse and I feel the mist start to wrap me, when the sun sets- the sun whose light reminds me of the way your hair shone once as you stood in my study and put your life in my hands. It is at twilight that my demons start to haunt me and my soul yearns to be touched.
It is in the evening, when we hide from the world, that I fight against the walls around my heart and the son he’s always wanted. It’s when the sun’s no longer there that I yearn for you to touch me the way a child who might never have enough love needs to be touched. For it’s only with you that I feel it’s safe to be the boy she used to love, the son he never wanted.
Surrounded by obsequious minions and back-stabbing acquaintances, I’m the Caesar’s heir lost among the crowds. As throngs grow larger and friends desert me I look across the room and long for your green eyes to find me. A single look. No words exchanged. Just touch me. Touch me when I’m alone and darkness envelops me and I can’t see, when misunderstanding and others stand in our way and I reach for you through time and space.
Your words, your mere presence in the same room are enough. Touch me. I need to know he hasn’t won yet. Touch me. I need to know I can still feel. Touch me. I need to know it’s still me.
Touch me --- gently for I am fragile,
--- firmly for I am strong,
--- often for I am alone.
Touch me and make me whole again.
THE END
A/N: The excerpt in italics belongs to Suzanne Somers’ poem “Touch Me”. Thanks for the inspiration.
AUTHOR: Lexie
RATING: PG
A/N: Here's a little something I've written while waiting for my muse to wake up for real. By the way, Chapter 19 of Back from the Dead is up on the Adult Forums if anyone cares to read it.
I’d always yearned to have someone in my life who really saw me beyond the masks and the walls; someone who could touch me in secret corners nobody had reached before and make me whole.
And you came into my barren world one autumn morning and it suddenly didn’t feel that withered anymore. Who would have known the jaded soul exiled by his own father to the distant corners of his empire could have so much in common with the principled fifteen-year-old of the luminous smile? But we did. And you recognised my coldness and my cynicism for what they were, a mask just like yours. And you touched me in silent places where words only interfere. And we touched each other in sad places where only whispering makes sense, places which held memories that had shaped us and whose resonance haunted us.
Time and choices, hurting and bitterness pulled us apart and eventually brought us together because there’s no one better than us to understand the world is more than just black and white. It’s in the morning when the darkness of the night still clings that I need you to touch me. And the need grows stronger when the hours elapse and I feel the mist start to wrap me, when the sun sets- the sun whose light reminds me of the way your hair shone once as you stood in my study and put your life in my hands. It is at twilight that my demons start to haunt me and my soul yearns to be touched.
It is in the evening, when we hide from the world, that I fight against the walls around my heart and the son he’s always wanted. It’s when the sun’s no longer there that I yearn for you to touch me the way a child who might never have enough love needs to be touched. For it’s only with you that I feel it’s safe to be the boy she used to love, the son he never wanted.
Surrounded by obsequious minions and back-stabbing acquaintances, I’m the Caesar’s heir lost among the crowds. As throngs grow larger and friends desert me I look across the room and long for your green eyes to find me. A single look. No words exchanged. Just touch me. Touch me when I’m alone and darkness envelops me and I can’t see, when misunderstanding and others stand in our way and I reach for you through time and space.
Your words, your mere presence in the same room are enough. Touch me. I need to know he hasn’t won yet. Touch me. I need to know I can still feel. Touch me. I need to know it’s still me.
Touch me --- gently for I am fragile,
--- firmly for I am strong,
--- often for I am alone.
Touch me and make me whole again.
THE END
A/N: The excerpt in italics belongs to Suzanne Somers’ poem “Touch Me”. Thanks for the inspiration.
Comment