Gothic Soul-Mate Part II of II

Now the conclusion:

             Soon the two friends left us and we were two like souls living as one. We stayed together in that dwelling, where occult came alive and life was nothing more than a dark eroticism from my deepest fantasies, for seven years. In that time he became my teacher, my friend, my confidante, my lover, and my life. He was everything I needed to feel alive- both body and soul.

             Ours was a relationship few could comprehend. The nights of ecstasy, the hours of intellectual discourse, and the time spent learning, experimenting, and just being together. Words between us were barely needed. A touch, a kiss, a look, a motion, could say more than a hundred words ever could. Our methods of communication transcended the verbal and reached levels of such acute awareness that seems so impossible as to be hard to explain. We knew each other’s minds, just as we knew each other’s souls and bodies.

        One day, he and I awoke rather melancholy and I could not explain why. Something this day was wrong, different in a negative way I was no longer use to since becoming joined with this man. I knew he felt it most acutely as well. His cheerful personality, his light heart, and free spirit were weighed down by thoughts so turbulent, it hurt him physically.

         We decided to walk in our favorite place- the ancient looking cemetery down the lane. And so we did. While walking, I took note of his physicality as I often did. He had changed much in the time we were together. His clothes, which he still made himself, had changed. Instead of different materials and schemes thrown together hap hazardously, the patterns and materials were distinct and the embodiment of the elegant man he had become.  Gone was his rebelliousness, his brashness, replaced with understanding and wisdom. His hair had not changed over the time we had been together, still holding the random braids, the multi-colored shades of brown on black. I loved his hair dearly.

            We walked a way down the gravel path within the graveyard. Normally the sight of the old stones gave us peace, today it did nothing. We were both as sad as we had been when we awoke. If I had known how to ease his pain- I would have, but my own was so server that I felt no amount of effort would be sincere enough.  I felt like crying, though I know not why.

             After a while we came to stand by a cement bench that stood just a few feet away from the cremation section of the cemetery. He squeezed my hand and continued on alone and I knew it was something he desperately needed to do. I sat on the cemented bench and watched him as he walked through the cast iron gate the set the cremations apart from the other graves. He knelt in front of an articulately created gargoyle fountain and murmured lowly, so lowly I could only make out his brilliant baritone that always made my heart beat faster for hearing it.

             When he was finished, he stood once more, closed the cast iron gate and sat with me on the bench. Then he just held me. My heart was breaking for him- for me. But why? Suddenly, I knew why. The reason echoed clearly in my head as if spoken to me directly from the gods. He feared my leaving him. The notion was so preposterous as to be laughable. Leave him? He was my soul come to life. How could I ever do that? To leave him would be the death of me, I was sure for I myself could not handle such a tragedy.

               Yet as these thoughts pounded my head- I knew there was a nagging truth to the fear. Something was wrong with me. I was weak and did not feel right. It was unnatural. I looked deeply into his chocolate eyes, eyes that reflected his soul, his mind, his longings and I knew the truth of what was happening to us- to me. It was a knowledge that struck such fear in me that I trembled.

I knew, then, that what we had- the time together, had been nothing more than what we would call a human dream. I was dreaming. No, not dreaming. I was on a different plain of existence, somewhere not attached to my mortal body. I did not belong on this plain and could stay no longer. The life force was returning to my physical self in the world I belonged in so long as my body drew breath.

              I also knew that he had known this truth since the moment he saw me. It was the reason he had avoided me.  He knew that he and I were soul-mates, twin flames and he was not sure if he could stand parting with me when it was my time to go back my mortality. He knew I was just visiting, my stay was not permanent. Yet- he decided to be with me, despite the knowledge and had not once let it affect our relationship once he won the war within himself to finally approach me. I loved him all the more for being able to be with me despite his knowledge. I am not sure I could have been so strong. I do know, though, that was our deep love that had kept me there so long, but I could sustain the connection no longer.

         If I could have given my flesh up to stay with him- my life as a mortal would have ended right then, but it was not meant to be. I had things to do before I could truly be with him and we both knew it. He gave me a weak smile, understanding that I now knew what he had tried so diligently to protect me from. We sat there, for how long I know not. We just sat there, holding each other. No words, no impassioned kisses or caresses. Just pure intimacy in the joy of being held by the one your soul belongs with. Slowly, I felt myself weaken. I could sense my physical body. The world around me began to dim. I was fearful and insane in agony. He comforted me even as he disappeared.

          I knew the moment I reentered my body. I came fully awake, and I cried. What had been merely hours in this life, was years in the other. After my tears had dried, I immediately wrote down all I could remember, scared I would forget him. I need never have worried. The memory is just as vivid now as it was when I experienced it. This happened a little over five years ago. I think of him often, both on what was written here and what I keep only for myself to know. I miss him. I long for him. I wonder if it was a dream, if he was real and perhaps alive somewhere- in this plain or another. I have never dreamt of him again, but I cannot help but feel I will one day be reunited with him. However, until then, all I have is the short memory and the worst cruelty of all- I cannot remember his name. 

(Note: I also added a video to part one!) 

Gothic Soul-Mate Part I of II

This is (based on) a true story.

I have been granted in this life, the rare privilege of meeting my soul-mate, my twin flame, my other half. My soul-mate, in this meeting was within the body of a man. A very gothic man, with a soul as dark as my own. I saw him across the way and my heart nearly stopped. He had long, straight, flowing raven locks of hair, with streaks of cinnamon brown, braids here and there scattered about in a rational frenzy. His clothes were made from different materials, with no set scheme. He looked ancient, but modern, sexy yet subtle, mysterious yet familiar. He was the personification of everything I was, everything I longed to be, everything I felt and desired and loved and it scared me.

It was quite obvious it frightened him as well. Time after time we would see each other as our paths caused us to be in the same place fairly often, but we would never talk to one another. He would steadfastly ignore me; pretend I did not exist, though when he looked at me, his eyes spoke not of disinterest, but something deep and unfathomable. It was something I could not explain. I longed for him secretly. I was fascinated with him. His every move entranced me, called to me, though I refused to show it and I ignored him just as stoically as he did me. Constantly and without fail he was want to pretend I existed not, choosing instead to focus all of his attention on the two friends he was never without and he would avoid me at all cost. His animosity toward me perplexed me.

Was it because I was Goth, like himself and his friends? Was there something he seen inside of my soul when he looked into my eyes that he found disturbing? I knew not. But I did know that despite his behavior, and my returned avoidance of him, that I wanted nothing more in this life than to know him. I could not explain the desire. I was a solitary creature. I did not like people and refused to be in society longer than I had to be. I never wanted company or longed for companionship- until he came along.

One day I heard of a Gothic theatre and decided, perhaps against my better judgment, to visit the building. It was dark inside, and the theatre was complied of strategically placed tables with accompanying chairs, the stage small and taking up an entire wall in front of all the seating. It was more of a lounge than a theatre in my eyes, but quite comfortable. Each table had its own lighting and I choose one by the stage and opened the book I carried with me and began reading. I know not how long I sat there in the exile of my imagination, but suddenly all lights became dim. It dawned on me that they must be rehearsing for an upcoming show. As I was not asked to leave, I decided to sit back and enjoy the dark rehearsal.

In a fury, all the Goths came into the theatre, dancing in a way one should only dance for the gods. It was beautiful, those movements. Words would never do it justice. Then I saw him, dancing like a heathen at harvest. He was perfect in every way. All at once, the gothic dancers started pairing up, including him. It was at that time, he seemed to notice me. Whether he knew I was there before or not I do not know, but by the look in his eyes, I would think he had known from the moment he waltzed in.

           The pairs all began kissing and holding each other, each forging a sexual stream of their own brand of intoxication. The heat they let off flew across the air, turning up the temperature by notable degrees. None seemed to notice or care, but continued on their sexual exploration of mouths and embraces. Except one. Him. The Goth man who seemed to haunt me. He was kissing his partner for all he was worth, and she him. But he was looking at me. The entire time, he looked only at me as if saying “I am doing this to her, but I want to be doing it to you. It is you I am kissing, am holding against my body, just you…” I cannot remember the rest of the play.

When the performance was over, those involved chatted for a while and then left, until only the Gothic man and his two friends remained. He kept staring at me, and refused to look away, his face held an expression of self conflict and hinted at an internal hell that raged inside his soul. I thought it best that I leave. As I came to that decision, he also came to a conclusion as he quickly approached me. Before I knew what was happening he stood before me and I had nowhere to run, no means of escape. I felt panicked by what seemed a sudden interest to my person by such an extraordinary man whom I had long since felt, deep all-consuming attraction for.

He stared imploringly into my eyes, his own eyes held a sea of dark brown that melted my heart and warmed my soul. After a few moments of the silent exchange of uncertainties he said two words. Two words that shattered my existence in waves of sheer ecstasy and fear.  He simply said, in a voice echoing with resolution “You’re mine.”

In the next minute he had grabbed me and had lifted me out of the chair, silently pulling me along to follow him, his hands around my arm as if frightened I was going to run from him. It was something he need never have worried about. I would have followed him anywhere at that point. His two friends trailed behind and came with us as he took me to a place I can only describe as a lair and I was quite sure it was his place of residence. It looked like nothing I had ever seen before. It was as dark and as gothic as anything could ever hope to be, a perfect mixture of subtle paganism mixed elegantly into all things occult.Thus our journey together truly began.