Skinny Jean Pilgrimage: A Journey to MILFdom

Four eyes.
Two Hazel.
Two green.
Four arms.
Two brown.
Two ivory.
Four feet.
Dancing.
His lips pressed to my ear singing to me as he twirls me around the kitchen.

My sweet boy.
The boy I made a family with.
The boy I wanted to grow old with.

He was mine and I was his.
I was his dream.
His world.
And he reminded me every single day.

Then he went away and became a soldier.
He was mean and distant.
When I was upset or being stubborn he didn't grab me and drag me across the floor anymore...singing in my ear.

He was the only one who touched me.
Even if they were hateful touches.
It made it better later when he kissed away the pain.

I survived for the last 5 years on memories of MY sweet boy.

It has been eleven months since he held me for the last time.
Since he made love to me.
Since he held me and we cried.
Since he kissed me on the forehead, said to me "I will always love you Al." and then said "Goodbye"

When he walked out of that door in his uniform and went back to work, his expression didn't change.
His composure didn't waiver.
He wasn't my sweet boy anymore.
There was nothing about him that I recognised, besides those deep sad hazel eyes,
and those sweet little lips that used to sing to me.

It has been eleven months since I have let anyone touch me.
Not my family.
Not my friends.
Even when my Adaline touches me I flinch.
I can't look in anyone's eyes...
Any touch, any compliment, any attention makes me nervous.
Shut down.

Who was I?
What did he do to me that made me this person?
I am so happy, my life is so full.
But I am so guarded.

Why did he break down all my walls, just to build his own and walk away.
I'm left broken, and he's there, being her sweet boy.
Spending weekends with her and OUR friends.
People I shared our darkest secrets with.
People I trusted.
The betrayal never ends.
I just want it to end.