He’s near

He’s near.

He’s very near from you. You can feel it. And oh, his breaths on your neck, his fingers trails on your forearm with meticulous precision, careful not to touch you, but has enough force to make you feel his presence. And sometimes, when your dog has finally stopped barking, you can hear his voice, velvet and soft and quiet, murmuring incoherent things to your ear, his lips stroke on your ear nimbly, as he emphasizes things, even though he knows that you’re not hearing him at all.

He’s near, and you can feel him.

You lay on your sides, your eyes closed, your mouth parted as you try to shove down everything you feel about him to your inner-body.

You want to move your hands, you try your best to apply strength and make your hand move backward, just to make sure that he’s right behind you, like you think. It may not be true, he may be just your imagination, but you think you’ll like to take risks.

You’ve been waiting too long. You’ve been longing too much.

You’ve been suffering too hard.

He calls your name, and the hairs on your nape stand. Goosebumbs suffuse on your entire skin, and you’re very much aware that he’s not something normal. He’s not a creature like you. He’s far from what you call human, even though he has been one years ago.

And yet you don’t care. He never forgets about you. He comes everynight. He doesn't late. He pays attention to you.

He calls your name again, in a more coherent undertone this time, and you think that he’s perfect.

This is it. This is the time of the day that you expect the most. There is your boyfriend and your mother and your father, and your everything. And indeed, they have tried their best to embellish your day. But none of them ever have the same effect that he has on you.

You don’t even know his name.

Something cold and forceful has touched your hand. For most people, this might be the point when they start screaming and refuse to be in the same place when they’re touched. But you’re not like most people. You’re special, you’re the one, and the only one who knows is him.

Him. You don’t even know his name.

He opens his mouth again, you can feel his lips on your ear, cold and damp and shivery, like he’s just fought a blizzard. A tremor runs on your backbone, and you can’t help sighing. You want more. More. More. More. More of his voice, more of those touches from him.

You want him to own you.

You’re not opening your eyes, you know you’re not going to see anything. But with eyes closed, you can still fantasize. You can still draw the man whose name is unknown to you.

He looks like Brad Pitt.

He looks like Leonardo diCaprio.

He looks like the most handsome man in the world that you’ve seen in some magazine. You don’t know his name, but his face always lingers on your mind.

He’s perfect, and he wants you so badly. So badly. So badly.

He calls your name again, and you think you almost lost it.

‘come with me’, he says. ‘come with me, and leave everything behind.’

Oh, you want to. You want to. You really want to. There’s no problem leaving your boyfriend behind. He’s abusive and he kicks you a lot. Your father: he doesn’t care about you. Your mother: she hates you and she loves picking a fight with you.

Your friends: you don’t have any. You don’t have anything worthy in this world. Not even your Porsche. Not even your Gucci dress.

Because, if any of them is worthy, why do you always long for this unknown man to invade your dreams and rape your soul everynight?

‘I want you,’ he whispers, more loudly now, ‘I need you, I need you, I want you, I need you. So badly.’

And then his hands, now becoming more solid, reach for your necks, and traces on it. You moan, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. The hand becomes more violent, but it is so pleasing that you can’t help but wanting more. More and more and more and more and more.

And then you fall.

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You wake up, at last. You wake up and you’re feeling empty and unworthy.

Where are you?

You see nothing familiar around here. You try to look around, but all you can see is a sleeping body.

You. It’s you. You hate yourself, but you remember that you have brown hair and fair skin and a mole under your eyes.

But if there’s you, there, why are you here?

You try to look in the mirror, but you see nothing. You are just a mere air around your solid body. Something invisible, something with no great importance.

And the man? The man? Where’s the man you so love?

Your solid body is grinning. The grin you often imagine the man have whenever he successes making your body having spasms. There is the man in your body. That means you can’t see him yet.

But oh, you want to see him. You want to see his face. You want to see how he really looks like. Now that you’re the same creature of him, you finally can get together with him. But he is being a prick and choose to stay on your body.

Hmmm.. that’s not going to stay very long, though.

You lay behind your solid body, your mouth on your solid body’s ears, and your hand on your solid body’s forearm.

And then, you start singing to him.

‘come with me…’

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