TheBattons.com

Come to me oh hallowed sun
And let your light wash over me.
Take away the pain from one
And let my soul fly far and free.
Leave the sorrow that I have sung
And clear away the heresy.
Come to me oh hallowed sun
And let your light wash over me.

Come to me oh blessed moon
And let your light show my path.
Take this love that is my boon
Before it turns into my wrath.
Comfort me and heal my rune
So that my heart won’t be as daft.
Come to me oh blessed moon
And let your light show my path.

Come to me oh radiant star
And fill my heart with joyous glee.
Rip from me this awkward scar
Which I want no one else to see.
Make in me a wondrous par
So that I can simply be.
Come to me oh radiant star
And fill my heart with joyous glee.

Come to me oh void-filled death
And walk with me until the end.
Take from me this pain and breath
So that I can see what I truly dread.
Take my mind so love can’t stretch
Its painful talons into my breadth.
Come to me of void-filled death
And walk with me until the end.

Come to me unconditional love
And show me what it means to live.
Let my heart soar like a dove
So that my life i can truly give.
Soak my skin and fill my blood
And let nothing else take its place again.
Come to me unconditional love
And show me what it means to live.

For a few weeks now, I had been toying with my Vixen, knowing full well that nothing physical was going to happen between us. Oh, the tension was there. There had been times when I stayed the night over at her house and slept in the guest bedroom. On a couple occasions, she had crawled into bed next to me to talk, and make comments like, “I need to leave before…. Yeah…” Of course, I wanted nothing more than for her to just rip my clothes off and have her way with me. But I had promised to try and behave, though it was the hardest set of actions I had ever tried to perform in my life.

She was gorgeous beyond all belief, and for me, it was more than physical. I had strong feelings for this woman, and I wanted nothing more than to charge into the open and exclaim my affection for her. But it just wasn’t meant to be, it seemed. Tonight had been one of those nights were I was staying the night. We had agreed to watch a series of movies together, have dinner, maybe a nightcap, and call it a night. Sleeping over at her house was a huge help for me because she was closer to work, and on a Monday were traffic was going to be bad as winter weather started in, any help was appreciated.

We had a pretty robust dinner, and we both had our choice of drinks. We had been teasing each other rather strongly, until she commented, “We need to calm down now before something happens.” I wanted nothing more than to tell her to “shut the fuck up” and let the teasing turn into more. I was respectful of her wishes, and went into a cold spell. We went to bed moments later, and though I knew she wanted me, and I wanted her, we went our separate ways. Though I fell asleep quickly, I wouldn’t stay asleep for long. A couple hours had past, and I woke up from a very erotic dream I was having about my Vixen.

But apparently I wasn’t the only one who had thoughts flying in their subconscious. My arms and legs were fastened to the bed by straps of fabric, lashing beneath the mattress. I couldn’t move for the life of me. I looked around for a moment, and saw her sitting on the bed next to me, completely naked. She leaned over, nibbled on my earlobe for a mere moment, and whispered, “you have no idea how horny you have me.” I chuckled for a moment, only to realize something new was happening. My Vixen had purchased herself a new toy, and has she sat there on the side of the bed, she was fucking her with for new vibrator.

I was hard instantly. I struggled as hard as i could to free myself, but to no avail, I wasn’t going anywhere. She moaned and sighed, cupping her breasts with her free hand as she moved the vibrator in and out. She was enjoying every bit of her teasing. I begged for her to let me go, even proclaiming she could do whatever she wanted, as long as I could be her vibrator instead. “Oh no, you are going to witness this.” She moved the vibrator faster and faster, bringing herself closer and closer to orgasming. She arched her back as the sensation moved over her. She cried out loud, “Oh fuck!” as she came.

And there I was strapped to the bed, unable to do anything. She slowed for a moment and looked at me, “Are you going to behave?” I bit my lower lip in frustration, my rock hard member at full attention under the blanket. I knew that if I said no, she would continue to torment me more. I sucked up my frustration, and grunted out a “yes.” She moved over on top of me, straddling my chest. She looked down at me with a wide grin and chuckled, “be a good boy and clean me up.”

She sat on my face, thrusting her wet clit against my mouth. I did what I could to lap up all of her juice, flicking my tongue against her clit as fast as I could. She was starting to get close again. She started to grind her hips on my face as she started to come all over my face. She turned around and rolled off of me as her body calmed. Laying next to me for a few moments, she leaned over, cleaned my face off with a towel, and chuckled. “I’ll come and unstrap you in the morning.” As she left the room, I cried for a moment from the sheer frustration of the experience. Collecting myself after a bit, I fell asleep, dreaming of ways to get back at my Vixen and her devious behavior.

It had been a few days since my verbal screw up and I didn’t know exactly what to do. I knew she needed space, and I gave her as much of it as I could. You don’t just blurt out something like “I’m in love with you” and not expect some type of recourse. I didn’t want to push her any further either. She was my Vixen and I would do anything she ever asked. It surprised me that a week had gone by, and no word from her. A simple “Hello” or “I’m still alive”? Nothing. It was the longest that we had gone without taking to each other. I was really kicking myself in the ass for saying what I had said, but the damage was done.

Another week had gone by before I finally got a response. “We need to talk.” I was shocked by the simplicity of the phrase. “Damn right we need to talk,” I mouthed in frustration. Two weeks and no acknowledgement. Two weeks of brooding, wondering if she was okay. I was a bit taken back to say the least, but my mind started to calm enough, allowing my heart to start rejoicing. Apparently I didn’t do explicable damage. Or at least, my emotions were conveying. I texted her back, “When and where?” My palms were sweaty from anticipation. My mind kept screaming, “Give me an answer already so I can deal with this shit!” So when the text came through, “Can you come over right now? If you’re free that is.” My fingers flew faster than my mind had control over. It’s funny how they say mind over matter, well apparently they are wrong. My mind didn’t matter, my heart was in control.

I replied with “OMW”, a simple little anagram for “I’m on my way.” I hopped in my car, my heart was fluttering like a hummingbird, a thousand miles a minute, and no sign of slowing down. I kept thinking to myself as I raced over there on a Friday afternoon, during rush hour no less, that the traffic had better be cleared, or I was running a bitch over! I know, it’s not exactly the most poetic thing to say, but it was to the point none the less. And as I drove, the roads started to clear. Rush hour had been little more than a jog down the park. The traffic, monstrous as it usually is, was nothing more than a steady stream of cars, flawlessly moving from point A to point B. “Thank god it’s Friday,” I mouthed as I drove towards my destination.

It had dawned on me after some time, that all of the traffic lights that I had hit were green all the way through. My heart was jumping up and down for joy. Someone, or something, was watching over me, and was trying to reassure me that everything that I wanted out of life, the woman of my dreams, was about to confess her love for me as well. Little did I know that life has an unexpecting turn of events planned out for me up ahead. As I drove into her drive, the sun was shining. The birds were chirping. Life was great. Everything was right in the world.

It wouldn’t be til later in life that life as we know it is very ironic.

Everything was going relatively well. The day before had been an eventful and full of accomplishments. The night was well lived; a night on the town with some friends, a decent karaoke bar filled with a song list that would revival most music production companies. I had invited several of my friends to come out and join in the fun. And to a surprisingly decent turn out, my friends and I had filled a corner of the karaoke bar with a mass of cheers, jeers at one another, but overall genuine friendship. And as the night grew on, friends came and go. It wasn’t until I saw her, my Vixen dressed in black, that I finally got up and sang. The night drew on, lyrics were flung through the air as darts hitting their bull’s eye.

It was getting lately, and the night had been full. So getting up, I excused myself from my friends, who continued to drink and have fun. I smiled to my Vixen as I left. She smiled back, though she had a look of discouragement as I walked away. The night had been fun, and my departure was at the right time. I went back to my place and relaxed, unwinding from the intoxication and the joyousness. I brought out my laptop and started to stroke the keys on the device with a flurry that usually comes from a story brewing in my mind. When I had finished, I waited a moment, knowing that my Vixen would read what I had placed on my blog. My Vixen and I had come to an agreement that we would be nothing more than friends. No longer would there be physicality between us. She had her gaze elsewhere, and I was trying to focus on myself.

Hitting the PUBLISH button on my blog site, my words were out there for all to read. The posting had been a personal reflection on events that had transpired over the year. I still don’t know why I even posted an actual blog, but it felt right. I placed the laptop in it’s cradle on the nightstand next to me, and turned on the music so that I could sleep easily. Smashing Pumpkins played first on the random AutoDJ embedded on my music player. I fell asleep rather quickly as the lyrics echoed through my mind. I dreamt of my Vixen and the things I’ve wanted to do and say to her for some time now. My subconscious and I had been at odds for a while now, so the images that I saw was my subconscious fighting back against me. And though they were a pleasing site, and echoed against my soul more than I had ever hoped for in regards to my Vixen, I knew I was dreaming.

I awoke strangely with the brush of a silken hand against my skin. An unseen arm wrapped around my mid-section, pulling me against the body behind me. The scent of lavender wafted over my nostrils, the scent instantly gave away who it was that was behind me. I kept my eyes closed as I felt the lips of my Vixen brush against my neck. She gently kissed, sending the hair across my body into a state of perpetual arousal. “Did you mean what you posted?” I knew she would read what I wrote. I nodded as I moved closer into her grasp. “So everything was true,” she questioned. I could hear the hint of doubt in her voice. “Every word,” I reaffirmed her with a groggy voice. She started to cry. I turned almost instantaneously in her word, placing a hand against her cheek.

I explained everything to her, why I wrote what I had, and what it all meant. She calmed and climbed under the covers next to me. We lay in each others’ arms for what seems like forever. “I hope you know how hard it is for me to not want you,” her words break the silence, striking me in the heart. “The more I lay here, the more I just want to have my way with you.” Her words were everything that I wanted to hear. “I want no one else but you,” I exclaim. They were true, they were real. I wanted her, more than anything. I would give my last breathe to just be with her right there. But I held back, I need to be the bigger man, “but it can’t happen. I promised you I would complicate things.”

“It’s too late for that Rocky,” she was right. “What you wrote tonight complicated things.” I knew she was right, but I needed to resist. I need to restrain. Even when we kissed, I held back. She could tell. I just wanted to let go, instead I started to tear up a bit. “I am in love with you, but I don’t want to ruin what we have,” she was shocked by my words. They just flowed so easily. They just came out. I didn’t realize what I even said until later. We laid there for the rest of the night, cuddling and never letting go. When I woke, she was gone. I, at that moment, realized what I had said. “Shit,” I yelled out. I said the right thing at the wrong time. Something I’ve wanted to say for a bit now, but never had the nerve to say it.

I didn’t even text her as I went about my routine for the day. The ball was in her court. I knew how I felt, and I knew it was true. I didn’t however know what she felt, but I knew I complicated her life. The only thing running through my mind was how much of an idiot I was, a normal self-deprecating ritual I performed on a daily basis. I felt in my heart that she didn’t feel the same way towards me, but only time would allow that realization to come to fruition. But I knew that I would do anything for her, or be anything she needed me to be. But boy, did I fuck up.

I must be doing something right. The more I post, the more my ranking with Alexa drops. So, post more blogs I shall. For those of you that have continued to read what I post, and from the responses that I get from you, I seem to have a way with words. So why is it that to those that I care about, I can’t say what is on my mind without fumbling all over myself. A friend told me that my writing seems to be therapeutic for me. That the more I write, the more of myself I work on. I write not because I want to primarily. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the words that I write when I write my stories. I see the evolution that takes place before my eyes as a few simple strokes of the keys change and grow into something magical.

I write because I need to. I need to express myself, and if I can’t express myself the way that I can, using words, then how can I express myself at all? I understand that I am changing personally. I am focusing my efforts to become a better person in such a way that I feel that I am growing. I write because I have to express myself. I try to explain what is going through my mind so much with spoken words that I end up either making absolutely no sense OR I say the exact opposite than what I intended to say. I write because it frees me, it breaks the ice around my body and lets me just breathe.

Everyone knows of my stories, of an amber haired Vixen that has had a profound affect on me. Yes, she is real, as real as you or I. She is the most gorgeous soul that I have ever had the pleasure of bring into my life. She is beyond comparison, and I would give my life to spare her’s if I had to. She has been a friend, a confidant, a mentor. She has been a personal heroine of mine. She truly is a blessing in disguise. When we met, my life was in turmoil. And though I haven’t told anyone this, I was at my wits end and looking for a way out. I had nothing to live for anymore because life was no longer beautiful; life was no longer worth living for.

And then I met her. We talked for a little bit, and I just got this feeling. And as much as I know that she will read this, I still have to talk about it. She came into my life at a time when I had lost all hope. My life was going no where, spiraling out of control. The long kiss goodnight was close at hand. Then I met her in real life, a meeting of chance to be honest. It was one of those things of “hey I’m not doing anything, let’s meet at this place” and sure enough we met. I had a phenomenal time with her in that first meeting, that I forgot the pain of just existing.

My spark of life was there, and I didn’t realize it at first. Those closest to me know the type of person that I am. I act on intuition. I can make judgments on doing things, or not doing things on just a feeling. And though I have misread my feelings from time to time, I have generally been coasting through life. This woman showed me just from words alone that there was still something to be passionate about. From the moment she started explaining how music was her life, I could tell that she meant every word she said. There was a twinkle, a sense of truth in her words. She spoke like music covered her body, caressed her life in it’s arms and carried her across the winds.

She saved me. Now, I’m not saying that she did any of this on purpose, but she showed me that a person could lose the one thing that they most cared about, and find it after years of being away. She sparked life in me just by expressing herself so openly. From the day we met, to even now, I have not been so depressed that I wanted to just disappear and vanish from life. I’ve had my moments of depression, don’t get me wrong, I still have to deal with my bipolarism on a daily basis. But this woman left such a mark on me that I will more than likely spend the rest of my life thanking her.

The night after we first met in person, I started writing. I tease with her from time to time that she is my muse. And though the definition of the title is accurate, I still have fun joking around with her. I have written a few dozen stories about her, and though a couple of them are not actually about her, most of them are. I would say that a good portion of those stories are completely fictional. A couple of them I would LOVE (and I’m not kidding around by this) to actually experience. I would love to experience them with her, because it’s the only way I see the story coming true.

But anyway, this woman has befriend me in an hour that I most needed. And for that, I have no problem getting on my knees and thanking her profusely. But, now here in lies the issue that has cropped up out of everything. I understand that I have developed feelings for this woman. And I would be honest in saying that these feelings are strong. And I’m absolutely chicken shit to tell her these things face to face because I know she doesn’t feel them for me. Oh, I know she has feelings for me in regards to be a friend, over dare I say on the doorstep of BFF territory.

And though I am going through an emotional time right now with everything that has been going on in my life, I want to make sure that what I am experiencing truly is how I feel. I have to be cautious about my emotions because I’ve tricked myself in the past and I don’t want to do that ever again. But I trust this woman with more than my life. I trust this woman to give it to me bluntly and honestly and not sugar-coat a damn thing. I trust this woman so much that though a woman has violated my trust in such a way in the past, I know my Vixen would never do the same.

I trust her blindly enough to be completely and utterly vulnerable, to let myself break down in front of her and show a side of me that I don’t want people to see. I know I’m broken. And unlike most people that I deal or have dealt with, I know she would never do anything to destroy my trust in her. I’ve only ever trusted someone this blindly before in my life, and though she is gone from us, she was my first-love. And because of what I have dealt with in the past, I don’t trust women at all with my heart. I didn’t even trust either of my ex-wives this blindly. They didn’t deserve it. And I’m not saying that my Vixen openly deserves it either, but my mind, heart, and gut all tell me I should.

I haven’t told my Vixen how I have felt because I don’t want to destroy what we have together. I would rather spend the rest of my life with someone less deserving and have my Vixen be apart of my life, than to not have her there at all. And I know it’s unfair to any other woman out there. Hell, my friend Raven and Aubrey both remind me that “I’ve got it bad for this woman”. And maybe it’s so. But I think about what my life would have been like if she would not have stepped in when she did, and I don’t see anything. She is “perfect imperfection”, a fallen angel to cherish and protect. I would take a bullet for this woman in a heartbeat and not think twice.

But I cannot be the man that I need to be right now. I have so many things that I am working on, that I need to focus on repairing me. The more she is in my life, the more she inspires me to be better. I don’t just want to be a better man for her, I want to be a better man for me. She sees the potential that I have, and she reminds me all the time. I needed that. She kicked me in the ass emotionally, mentally, and to some extent physically. Because of her and those that are closest to me, Derrick, Lee, Kellie, and Allen, I know that I can be a better man. They are my best friends in life, they are my family. They make me better. She has made my life so much better.

I’m not writing this to let her know how I feel, though it helps with the fact that it makes it easier for me to NOT have to speak it to her. I’m writing this because I can’t keep it bottled up inside. Everything that has been effecting me emotionally has blocked my mind from functioning properly. So I hope that I can get back to my stories and grow as an author. I know I am a hopeless romantic. I can wish and dream for the day that might happen where my Vixen feels the same way I do, though I’m sure that won’t happen. A guy can dream can’t he? I want nothing more than for her to be happy. I want her to vent when she needs to. I want her to know that I will always be there for her. I want her to realize that when I say “For you, anything”, I mean it. And as much as I want there to be physicality between us, if there never is any from this point out, I know that she was my “white buffalo”. I kid to some extent. I just want to keep her in my life, in any form she chooses. Because life without her in it, isn’t worth experiencing.