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I can love you just like he can…
Even though I can’t remember what the voice sounds like, this plea, the desperate need in His stunning blue eye. The short cropped blond hair, army style. Go figure. The non-descript black long sleeved shirt and pants. Blue-black. I can’t describe the abject terror that whispered prayer instilled in me. Nor can I explain the longing. I wanted…still want…need Him. So bad it physically hurts. We had made so much progress. I could hear Him so clearly. I ran. I pulled myself so fast out of that dream it took my breath away. Or maybe He did. Underneath, around and on top of my own feelings was the soul crushing sorrow. The pain of heartbreak.
And I knew immediately I had done Him a serious wrong. I frantically called to Him. Begged Him to come back. That I was sorry. I was just scared. All I got was silence. Cold, icy, wintry silence. For months after that He was gone. I would call Him, wait for Him. And nothing would come of it. I had hurt Him deeply. In a way that I still don’t think I could understand. My whispered reassurances are all I can give Him. And my courage. And my sacrifice. Now, like a Gorean slave there are elaborate details and movements involved. And finding the courage to do what is asked of you, with no question as to how or why, just simply to please Him. Because He asked it of me. And that should be the only reason I need.