Minotaur in Dear love

  • April 23, 2019, 10:11 a.m.
  • |
  • Public

Dear Love,

The further away I get from you, and the more I unwind the tangles of yarn that are memories and my mind, the more I feel like I don’t know you. Not because I didn’t know you. But because you’re a monster and I saw a prince. I don’t know how to reconcile your bull’s snout or hooves. I can’t seem to find a way to see you inside the creature you are.

Did I give a hero a string so he wouldn’t get lost? No. I left a string behind me as I walked into the Labyrinth, let it dangle, bright red, full of sex and hope and love and blood. I stood bravely, ready for a monster, ready to see the demon everyone spoke of. I found a man, cowering, afraid. I found you, insecure and neurotic, broken by lovers past. I found you in your need and let it swallow me. I released the chains that bound you that another woman had left behind. How foolish was I?

We fucked in the heart of that maze and I felt you deep within me, hands on my body, whispering the word “Mine” into my ear over and over. Your nails dug rivets into my skin, teeth left bruises, words left fear. As in all fairy tales, there was pain. In the dark of the labyrinth, I thought you were a man.

When Dawn finally broke over the horizon and the smell of the ocean blew in from the crevices, cracks in the labyrinthian walls let it in. I felt the warm on my hand and woke from the darkness to see the skulls lining the walls. Blood caked my body as did your smell. You smiled and spoke but the voice of a beast whispered out and I heard the dark magic before I felt it.

No part of me needed to ask what you were. I knew. I had seen your kind before, been lured by them, felt their lips on my thighs and their hands at my throat. I never could resist a monster until the pain had grown too deep and too far and I had only tears left over from what I had dared call love.

You begged me for the love you felt. I saw the need in your tauren eyes but still could not succumb. We fought in desperation until exhaustion collapsed us, bruises and blood and just a little exposed bone. I cracked your head with the skull of a past lover, it shattered and you fell. From the walls I pulled on your chains, the things that had kept you bound I had released. I wound them about you, just as she had, just as the next would, until you were once again the monster in the maze.

My string lead me out. I followed it, lost as a princess in a story, until the sea air hit my face when I stepped from the deep, dark walls of your home. My ball was wound. I was safe.

You see, my love, I had never had a ball of string before. I spun it for myself the last time this happened when I swore never again. So thank you, my bull, for testing my string. I couldn’t have done it without you.

All my love,
The new Ariadne


Last updated July 02, 2019


No White Knight April 26, 2019

What wonderful word smithing.

And when you say, “I don’t know how to reconcile your bull’s snout or hooves. I can’t seem to find a way to see you inside the creature you are,”, the reality unresolving with what we have in our head is jarring. Even when we know and finally accept who the person is (capable of all they did to us, convincing us what to do to ourselves in itder to stay, and the gaslighting), it’s still somehow jarring, isn’t it.

sloom No White Knight ⋅ April 30, 2019

It really, really is. I can't handle it, but i have to, y'know?

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