Only an hour! The little bitch! It would've been the last hour, I fumed, the final one - if it hadn't been such a good one. A smile tugged at my scowl. She must have been dreaming, twitching slightly in response to what? Terror or pleasure? I'd rubbed her back with the sheet between her skin and my hand, willing it as a message of reassurance from the land of smiles to the land of dreams. She leapt out of bed on awakening- Now I am abandoned, f*&king prematurely.

I will never know what she dreamed, nor whether, or how my gentle massage/message was received. Neither of us understands more than a few isolated words of the other's language. Our communication is 99% sensual, a sensuality enhanced in the same way that the other senses; smell, touch and hearing improve to compensate for loss of sight when blind.

I've chosen it to be that way, chosen it to be wordless. With no words there's no bullshit. That's what I'm thinking. Truth needs no words, is its own evidence. Words are fashioned as cloaks until we can look upon them with pleasure, or at least without discomfort. We drape those words over truth to hide it, seldom to reveal it. Between the sexes; words are often so well woven as to stand without the support of any truth at all. I'm admiring my own thoughts - so much so that I write them down.

Now I'm reading them and I'm wondering what others have experienced from a wordless relationship, and how it ended? Probably in tears... Must be many here who've been there. If you have - please share your story.

What?

it seems to be an illusion to you and business as usual to her

it seems to be an illusion to you and business as usual to her

I thought so too, at first.

it seems to be an illusion to you and business as usual to her

I think so.

My reluctance to expose events between each of my posts may explain why no-one else has told their story.

Apologies - bad topic