Being with him is like diving without a bottle of oxygen. You hold your breath as you go deeper, farther away from the surface, until you either die or you manage to go back up and take a break to breathe. If you do manage to return to the surface, all you want to do is go back in again. As soon as possible. Over and over. An inescapable addiction. Yet every time you dive, you wonder if you'll be able to go back to the surface, this time. You wonder if the sea will let you live yet again, or if it'll turn around and bite your head off without a moment's notice. Danger, and the thrill of playing with fire.
He is like the sea itself, beautiful, mesmerizing, yet following his own rythm. Like the tides, he comes and goes as he pleases. Retaliation awaits those who dare try and restrain him, leaving behind scars like the water that erodes the hardest of rocks.
Yet I can do nothing but desire him more and more, to dive in his depths, lose myself in his underwater paradise. I long to be like those fish he likes, to breathe underwater, so that I would never have to come back to the surface and I could lose myself in him completely. I wish to flip the rising sun off and keep him in my arms forever and ever, leaving the rest of the world behind... to create a world solely for the two of us.
But I know I'd never manage to hold him that way, and it infuriates me as much as it excites me. I can see in his eyes that the fire that burns in him is made up of that strong need for freedom. Just like his namesake, he cannot breathe if he doesn't move, if he's not free.
And I'm the cat looking at the pirahna in the aquarium, my paw still stinging from its bite, but nonetheless craving to catch it. He's more addicting that any alcohol, than any drugs... and the withdrawal is that much more painful.
The best thing I ever did was to associate with him, and it was also my greatest mistake. I've never seen someone as strong, in mind and in body, nor as volatile as him. He's the only one who never cowers before me, no matter how irritated I get. He's the only one who gets back up every time, no matter the abuse, verbal or physical, and dares try and retaliate at me. He's the only one who makes me feel what is known as fear. I fear he will vanish, never to come back again. I fear he will leave me. I fear he'll get killed. I fear him. I fear the effect he has on me, on my sanity. He is a weakness I can never get rid of, for it would, without a doubt, destroy me. Just like without water, we cannot live.
His ragged breath is like the surf, his moans more beautiful than the songs of the whales. His skin is softer than rocks polished by the sea and his hair more mesmerizing than the foam on the crest of the tallest waves in the light of the full moon. He is more alluring than the pull of the waves and more graceful than trickling water. He is more ferocious than the wrath of the ocean and he is mine. All mine. From the tips of his toes to the last strand of his magnificent, long hair, every molecule of his being is mine. Forever. And that makes me the strongest of them all. More than my flames of rage, more than my position, more than the man who adopted me. I wouldn't have it any other way.