An ice queen that reigns over nothing and no one. Pretending to feel until it takes, and after years of practice, the acting has only managed to take away. I have some emotion now, all of it centered on a man, seeing importance in little else. The day, the night, they are equal in their significance. Their worth is much, just not to me. Was this a choice, or not much of one? How much control can one have over the person the heart desires? None. Our only choice is to surrender and count the virtues a lover may possess. If none, invent them. Live the lie, or the truth will have you whole.
I look at Rick, but he looks away. I want to tell him that he is heavy in my arms. All of him is gold and rubies. He would not feel the same, even if it was a choice, which has been established is not. So, it is fate that must be blamed, placing us together for only one to care.
I am a thing to be explored, and perhaps enjoyed. I saw Rick on my day off, just as I intended. We kissed once, then twice, and once more until it felt forced.
Are there any connections to be made at all, or was I meant to stand alone?
What I did not want to end, he felt was lasting too long. Soon, he expressed his boredom. Kissing was for children, he said. The man was looking for a sex I could not provide. But needing his attention and affection, I would soon beg him to take it. Wanting to punish me with the power I had given him, he would at first reject my offer. And so it is that I not only presented him with my body, but I gifted him my dignity.
Take it! Fuck me!
Not a man once, not a man twice, and once more failing to be a man. He could not sustain his rigidity, excusing himself with an explanation that his sex required a violence I was not capable of giving, through reluctance or inexperience. Fault the woman without dignity. Throw it all on the floor next to our clothes.
Rick soon fell asleep by my side. I knew it was ending. What started in unmarked territory, left me disoriented. With spirit defeated and mind exhausted, I was giving up.
I watched him being carried by his dreams, undisturbed by the destruction of what I had hoped to build. Just material going up in flames. Nothing to see, but a dense cloud of smoke. I began as something undefined, and ended as his whore. I sold myself for his silence, which I pretended meant something he was too scared to put into words.
It is just Anne and I, getting our heads cut clean off. Anne and I, as some type of caricature, figure, worthless archetype. Anne and I, making tea out of men just to drink them up. Anne and I, beginning with power, and ending up with none. Anne and I, realizing men are not sugar.
All that is left to do is to hide what this has done to me, what it has turned me into, until I can become something better, or more vicious. Someone never to be betrayed. A machine that does not break. I will hide what I have always wanted, I have never had, and never will.