While in the throes of love making and to this day unbeknownst to her

I cried

Have you ever made love that was so beautiful it brought tears to your eyes?

The experience truly defies any words that I could muster to stain this paper

A truly indescribably communicative journey

The unfettered exchange of pure love, joy, and honorable pleasure

I sometimes become muddled in doubts as to whether it truly took place

And what is worse,

 I question whether I would ever be able to find it again…

I cried

Tears of joy for how stupendous,

agreeable and honorable it could feel to be with her

How I would at certain moments, gaze lovingly at her just to assure myself

I was actually with her

She were my gift beyond measure,

My joy made flesh,

Being with her gave a new dimension to the term special,

It felt so natural, and completely devoid of any manner of mechanics or superficiality

Like we were supposed to stay there in that moment forever; unendingly

I cannot, nor do I wish to dismiss the erotic bliss that so deliciously ensued

However to linger on the point would do her and the experience injustice

I cried too because I knew she would never allow it to last

I knew she could see what I saw,

I knew she could feel or had already felt what I was feeling

I had seen the tears well up in her eyes before for the same reason but not until it happened to me

Did I fully understand it?

I knew the look came from a place of love

Ray Charles blindfolded could have seen that

The difference is she could never be convinced that it could last forever or

That she was worthy of it lasting forever

In fact the poison paradox is that while striving to find happiness;

The purely golden apple of unconditional love

Once she tasted its sweet fruit she quickly denied its sweetness and discarded it for the worms of heartbreak to eat away at its core

She never felt like she deserve what we possessed and actively tried to

grind the kernel of contentment to make her bread

I too had moments of insecurity

When these moments like fungus broke through the soften soil and the demons of doubt plagued me

I would question whether she maliciously wanted to hurt me?

It was until much later that I realized that I was simply a catalyst

She hurt me oddly enough because she loved me more than anyone she had ever loved before

She wasn’t trying to hurt ME; my pain was simply an unfortunate by-product

Friendly fire, or a bullet’s ricochet

A loose string on the frayed garment of emotional agendas

No, she was only trying to hurt herself by pushing me away.

A self induced punishment inflicted by a hanging judge without fair representation

I cried for that too

I cried because I couldn’t save her or help her fix her broken center

©2010 j. k. bradford