Adore, But Do Not Touch

The Goddess of Absence: A lesson in loving what you can never hold.

December 28, 2017

Everything you trampled, you trampled only because you didn't know how to cross over.

​With eyes closed, completely empty inside, I felt the fingers of discomfort painfully caressing my irritated skin, and it felt good until the trance turned into a grueling desire to cease existing as soon as possible.

​It stopped. Then I breathed again through sobs awakened in me by despair, and then I truly enjoyed it; I surrendered to that madness of passion and submitted to despair. It led me slowly, gently, like a drop of water seeking its path through the indentations on the skin. I loved it with my whole being, and I dedicated every emotion, thought, and twitch to that moment. I was the universe and the cosmos; I knew how to breathe the entire world, to absorb it into myself thanks to it. I was a Goddess who managed to feel the greatest possible intensity of sadness, pain, and the desire to remain in that one single point forever. Because within me then remained trapped an eternal love—yours and mine—at the very moment the clock struck the end. I contorted and I loved. I was stronger than a troop of armed warriors and could destroy the entire world with a single blink, but I was actually just loving, with the eternal love of the gods. The seed of love grew within me, that tiny seed I planted and you watered with your existence; I hid it from the world because no one managed to find it in the despair; I kept it deep inside me, where no one can see or touch it. All the muses responsible for the greatest works of art envied me, for who are they compared to me? Distortedly radiating art through colors, through icy stone whose coldness you feel even if you don't touch it, through empty words written in a trance, through songs uttered by so many lips. Compared to me—of flesh and blood, alive, so beautifully alive. I outshone them with my silence and my determination that their existence could not sway me. After me, everything ceased to exist; I was Eve, the first and the last, the only one, only one of a kind in the world, in all worlds ever. No, no one could have me, because Goddesses live only in legends.

​Desperately, I tried to escape that utopia, not realizing that it is exactly why I shine—that only if I stay there will I be able to live forever. Unstained by touches, beautiful words, melodies, or caresses. Adore, but do not touch! was written in invisible letters on my forehead. That is why I was loved. I taught him to love to the bone, to the core, to every heartbeat as long as he is alive, as long as he thinks he exists. I often used to be that moment of regret after every peak of happiness, when you realize you only want something as long as you cannot have it. Do not have me! So beautifully, do not have me until death!

​Here I am even now, hidden behind every desire, leaving scars with burning gazes that you cannot see but you feel—oh, you feel it so painfully. I made it so that you turned "I love you" into a bloodbath just to prove the essence of those words to yourself, only when you realize that it isn't something done, but something felt, most of all when I am gone. You want me; you want me so fiercely that no happiness can replace your exhilaration when you hit the bottom where I, always curled in some corner, await you. So pure, fragrant, soft, and warm. No, you cannot touch me even in your imagination, because a legend created me and that is exactly where I live—but without you, because the real world was dearer to you than the truth you replaced with false living. Do you call that life? Forever returning to me? Do you really think that what you do is called breathing? No, dear, that is me playing upon your lungs as the melody of your memories carries me. You see, they promised you a beautiful and happy life in which you are the main hero, a knight, a king, a God… a pity you believed them more than you believed me. Your weapon still lies beneath my ribs; you cannot take it until you break them. And you—you would rather die than touch me, for a single touch would shatter you into love. That is why I repeat to you: do not touch, only adore!

​"A woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars. Can a more beautiful sight be seen?" Yes! It can! When you look in the mirror and in it, instead of yourself, you see me!

Since I've been a waitress my whole life, I feel like I must have a tip jar even here .