Is it time?
In the beginning, there was nothing.
Surrounded with darkness, void of any life, a blank canvas longed to live.
Believing, keeping the faith, it patiently waited, knowing its creator would eventually come.
When all others held onto nothing but doubt, it believed.
The eyes of this canvas searched the darkness day after day, until the day came, a small but undeniable flicker of light broke through the stillness.
First one flicker, then another, the light became brighter and brighter, the canvas was no longer blank. Words, thoughts, desires, hopes filled the pages that once was barren of life.
Words had given it a heartbeat, words from its creator had given it breath, words from its creator had given it life. It rejoiced from the love and warmth from its creator, the same way a hard cock welcomes the love and warmth of a lover's mouth. The blank canvas was his to do as he wished.
You, my creator, my lover, came to me sometimes in the early morning, sometimes in the brightness of the midday, there were even times when you came to me in the dead of night, I always welcomed the touch of the keyboard, knowing you were there. Your breath was my breath, your heartbeat my heartbeat.
But. . .
I have been told by the lack of visitors, I have been told by the lack of comments, that something is happening. I cannot allow myself to believe what I fear the most. The thoughts beat at the door of my weakening heartbeat, that perhaps I will soon be no longer. Days pass and there is nothing. Days pass, your touch, cannot be felt, your words do not come. There is nothing but the darkness from which I came. I am nothing without you.
Do you no longer love me?
