Aquarius and I fuck. It is cold and pornographic. An act designed to humiliate the other, ourselves. He enjoys it, and I cannot avoid it. His anger is quick to rise, if I deny him my body. I don’t care to argue anymore, but it seems it is all he knows to do. It is the only time he speaks. And then, we fuck again. He pounds into me, until I wonder how it is that I do not break. When it is over, we go back to being strangers. I want so much to be truly seen, but he is loyal to his sulk. Aquarius says nothing. It is because I am hideous to look at. It is because I have grown boring. He wishes to be rid of me.
I think I should have a lovely time ballroom dancing. I think I should keep this to myself, before Aquarius slaps me for it. Instead, I will listen as he interacts with his friends. Then, he is alive and well. Animated and colorful. Aquarius the friendship sign. Look at him buzz like a tiny bee, so unlike when we are alone, and he fears a bond that may form. Just the two of us, is not enough for me anymore. He fears what will never be. Nothing is connecting.
If it is so that an Aquarius must love and honor Libra, if the stars have written that when they were drunk on wine, this is the wrong Aquarius, and I must find another. I will throw this one back into the sea. It is the correct thing to do, which only means it will not get done.