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My Mistress War



I will always think of her. Sometimes fondly. And sometimes with disgust and 
hate. When I wake up holding onto my wife, I think of her. In the quiet hours 
when I’m alone, it is her I am with.  She is always on my mind.  She is all I 
think about. 

I miss her, and the way she smelled. When we were together I hardly slept. 
She would keep me up all night. And now, more with every passing day, it is 
during the darkest hours of the night that I lay awake thinking of the time we 
spent together. 

Her hate kept me warm when I was cold. Her rage fueled me, drove me, and 
drove me crazy. Her screams still haunt me, something to never be unheard. 

She made me a man. She took what innocent and childish ways that I had, 
and replaced them with a lust and desire for the forbidden. I still want her. I 
still need her. Nearly a decade after our first encounter, and I still feel her 
presence everywhere. 

With her, I felt as though I was exactly who I was supposed to be. I always 
knew what I had to do. And life was simple. Not easy, but simple. 

And then it was over. I knew I would never see her again but I could never 
have expected how lonely I would be without her. In nearly every room of my 
house there is some sort of memento to remind me of her. My body carries 
scars and tattoos for her. I close my eyes and I see her.  When I sit in silence 
I hear her screams. 

I want her. Always. I need her. Never again. 

She was my mistress, and will be always. 

My mistress War...

©Sean Moore 2014

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