My Lover Brickwall

My Lover Brickwall
We had nights that defined the term unbridled passion. We’d kiss each other so hard, so intensely, as if it were going out of fashion. Even in the dimness of light, the fire in each of our eyes shone so intensely, and so lustfully bright. When my mouth was on him, our eyes would lock. His gaze on me of glee, made me never want to stop. I loved the way he smelled, the way he tasted, and when I mounted him, I loved how he panted. It was like a competition, the thrusts he granted, that hit the spots that made me feel enchanted.

The next morning he’d awaken me by entering me. All I knew at those moments were that this was how life should always be. After the high of lust making, I experienced withdrawal. No worries, usually a round or two more followed. I truly enjoyed his beautiful smile. That alone, made me go on for more than a while. I would then ask for coffee, or rather insist that he’d make me some. He’d tell me to be patient that coffee and other treats were sure to come. After he showered, I would take mine. At his garden patio, raisin toast, cheddar and feta cheese were some of the treats on which we would dine. A savory meal, almost as good as the treats we had shared on the previous night. The conversations we shared were also a big part of the delight.

As undeniable as our passion might have been, trying to open him up was a sin to him. The tidbits of past loves gone wrong, the music of monsoon’s going on and on, were the crumbs of emotions he fed me, that were there all along. Though my eyes and my smile would almost disarm him, his preferred weapon of choice, his strong smile, would win. I would try to dig a bit more deep, only to caste myself a small bit of grief. It’s not that his tales were filled with deceit. It’s just that after displaying his charmed grin, I knew he would not let me in. And no, I would not weep, but frustrations in me, surely began to seep.

Time and time again, we’d both come back for more. We desired more of the passion that glued us together and was never a chore. Something so natural and beautiful and intense, there was never a sense that it was simply a performance. Only when I wanted to know, what was behind those beautiful eyes was when I began to realize, that that would never materialize. The wall that separated East and West Berlin had come crumbling down. But the wall he had created was layered with emotions by the pound. Even the Great Wall of China historically had some intruders. But my lover Brickwall had been through it all. He would let know one in, his wall would not fall.

I once let my own wall come down. I expressed this to Brickwall, how I felt, and he was like a mute, almost making no sound. One of his bricks must have stumbled, not crumbled, he would not allow himself to miss a step and tumble. This rare moment of stumbling allowed Brickwall to express to me, how much he enjoyed our ecstasy. He enjoyed my eyes, my smile, and our conversations. But no more than that, so that neither of us would have the anticipation of expectations. Alas, I knew it was time to move on. He did not want this, but he knew he had to go along. My lover Brickwall who I had enjoyed as my very own, I apparently had never known him at all. We would miss one another, but we both knew, never to call.