Little Black Book

He is finally home. Our lovely little studio apartment off the main strip. Not much to behold, but the character is unquestionable. Laden with spider plants and Himalayan salt crystals interlaced within the random kitschy tapestries. Something is different tonight thought, he comes home later than usual with an ominous heaviness surrounding his being. His aura is cluttered and chaotic. I can feel the air is heavy and his mind is full. Sighs and heavy breathing give way to tears which in turn carve a path down his face to a ravine of regret. Deep circles under the eyes tell a story of a thousand lifetimes, lived and died, all in a night. I am ready to receive him, ready to have his soul poured into me. The bath water is drawn and the candles are lit. A subtle scent of spruce and cinnamon permeate the heavy atmosphere of our oasis. The sobs begin to echo through the dense air of our once light and playful abode. Kyler was a beautiful and playful soul that always knew he was destined for something magnanimous. I have been his keeper for the last year since he acquired me. I knew it was love at first sight when I saw his gaze rested on me with a softness that caressed my very being. Since that moment we have become inseparable.

I reside on his antiqued black walnut desk right next to a raw amethyst crystal to set the environment of our most sacred space. The writing nook is where the soul is bared for all things ethereal to behold. A realm where the divine hears and listens in a way that only the divine can. Tonight is a night that I will keep within my covers for only the most intimately experienced to touch. The bath is over and the time has come, my favorite part of the day, Kyler and I will come together in union and our souls will meld in a way that only twin flames can. Wrapped in a terry cloth towel and still dripping from his aroma therapy bath he sits down in his grandfathers chair. The lavender aroma from the essential oil bath is still palpable. He sits down and his alabaster skin is crawling, the bath didn't seem to help with dissolving the stress contained within his being. I am growing concerned with my love. His lanky 135 pound frame shifts to the side as he deftly reaches into his weathered brown leather bag and pulls out a stack of 100 dollar bills. Kyler places the money on the table with a quivering hand, which in turn moves past his jade green eyes up to his jet black hair. He shakily pushes his hair back from obstructing his view only to reveal more tears. Kyler then faintly whispers under his breath “twenty thousand dollars.” I can't take the tension any more, why would so much money cause such an upheaval of raw emotion. He mourns.

His trembling fingers begin to gently caress my weathered black cover. Supple fingertips run the length of my body and then begin to curl around my surface. I am pulled open and I fully reveal my soul, ready to receive all of him. He takes his fountain tip pen and begins to transfer his consciousness to my inner most being. There is a sense of anger and rage as he applies the pressure on my body. I am taken aback by this rarely seen side of my soul mate. Kyler begins to use his words to describe an encounter with an older gentleman named Tom. A slender silver fox working in finance, Arabian descent and very slick with his dialogue. Born with a silver tongue and a suave exterior, Kyler was smitten. The pen presses harder as Kyler reveals the trip to Tom's residence. I feel an almost undetectable trace of moisture, it is a tear, the caress of his salty tear on my bare skin gives me the full picture. This is a crime, my love has had something precious taken from him, a fracture of his soul has been ripped from his body. I mourn.

Kyler begins to reveal after the trek to Tom's place and a few drinks later he was feeling excited to gain the affection of a beautiful human. They have drinks, a glass of red wine together. The pen then begins to lighten its assault on my skin and it is revealed that there was seemingly fruitful conversation. How Kyler and Tom discussed the proposition of kids and a family, the ideal living circumstances. My love had found his love! Or so he thought. The pressure begins to build once again on my now writhing flesh. My skin buckles, I don't know if my delicate skin will tear under this assault. I will be here for my partner. The story continues after drinks at Tom's bachelor pad. After the wine Kyler began to feel funny, at first numb, everything had began to go black and Kyler woke up on Tom's couch with no clothing. An over whelming sense of filth and violation had began to creep into his soul. The pressure continues on my delicate and well crafted skin, constructed of the finest paper, I stay willing to receive. As if my love had heard my solidarity in this scenario, the pressure subsides. Kyler begins to put his clothing on and the overwhelming sense of shame gives way to despair. My love reveals his confusion as to why he is experiencing shame rather than rage. There is a stack of money on the table with a note written by Tom “thanks for the memories.” Written in beautiful script Kyler can only appreciate expert penmanship. This only makes the matter worse, why doesn't he feel rage! I feel rage flowing through my pages, yet the feather touch of the pen when Tom is mentioned draws me into the realm of confusion with Kyler. What had happened? Twenty thousand dollars and a fractured soul? Is this a fair exchange? Kyler begins to weep and reveals one final thought to me, his deepest companion, he simply ends our night with one simple phrase; “I miss Tom.” I am steadfast and stalwart in my dedication to my love, I will always be his little black book.