I decided to do a goodbye to former Daddy here to give myself a little closure. I have so many happy memories of us.
The initial thrill of finding someone who matches all your proclivities. The way I cried happy tears when you first gave me a morning, noon, and night routine. The intrigue I felt when you first said I could call you Daddy. The way you were so consistent for months until I finally trusted you. The first time you told me you love me and how I cried. The ways you tested and pushed me. The fun we had exploring subspace and pain together. The way you spent the last hour of each day focused on me. The first time I had an orgasm from pain. The first time I had an orgasm from only your command. The quiet way you controlled my sub frenzy. The deep friendship that developed between us. The pride I felt from knowing I was your girl. The ways you supported me in my darkest days. I still have the picture you sent me as the background on my phone, the one of a brown bear giving his girl a hug. That’s something I can’t bring myself to remove just yet.
I so wanted a life with you. I so wanted to be yours. It was my driving force when I was trying to finish my masters and sometimes the only thing that could motivate me to push through. That one little idea, that hope of us building a life together, carried me through so many terrible times. I loved you so hard, and you loved me just as hard.
I am sorry that I couldn’t help you, even though I did my very best to try. I’m sorry that I couldn’t hold on anymore, as we know , I don’t usually fail when I’m determined. I couldn’t though. I couldn’t stand the loneliness of being in a relationship with someone who was no longer there. Every day was interlaced with ache, sorrow, and longing. It was just too much. I had to leave before I hated you. I will always carry a piece of you in my heart.
I am lost to you. There is no going back. I tried to tell you once I let go it’s irreversible, but you didn’t listen or couldn’t listen. These are the last tears I’ll cry for you as I move forward with a new chapter of my life. Ours was a good chapter, a chapter of love, and survival. This is the last poem I write for us:
Our Last Chapter
There was a time
not marked by hours,
but by rituals carved into flesh and thought
where I learned to breathe
only in the spaces you left for me.
You, the architect of ache,
spoke in structure,
line and consequence,
a syntax of rules and velvet ruin.
I followed you like a cipher follows its key
grateful to be decrypted.
Morning. Noon. Night.
The sacraments of devotion.
You named yourself Daddy,
and I, with trembling certainty,
unfolded into it like scripture hidden
in the margins of a forbidden text.
There was holiness in your discipline.
Terror, too.
But oh, the rapture of being understood
without needing to explain.
Each scene
a paragraph in pain,
a meditation on surrender.
You marked me with meaning,
and I bloomed under duress.
You said, “Come,”
and I did
with no touch but your voice,
no god but your command.
We lived in a dark library of our own making,
where the ink bled and the bindings cracked,
but the story held.
For a time.
Then, without warning,
you went silent between the pages.
Margins widened.
My ache echoed through footnotes of absence.
I reread your sentences,
seeking signs I had missed
an ellipsis too long,
a semicolon where a period should have been.
I tried to annotate your decline.
I footnoted your withdrawal
with patience and pride,
until even my pen broke
from writing in the margins alone.
I am not made to be unloved in silence.
Even masochists need presence.
So I ended us.
Not with punctuation
but with closure.
Know this:
Our chapter was exquisite.
A sacred contradiction.
A masterwork of love and discipline,
pain and peace.
I keep the image
a bear embracing his girl
as my bookmark.
A relic. A relic that still warms.
But I am closed to you now.
My spine does not reopen once it cracks.
The story of us is archived,
bound in leather and ash,
resting among other impossible texts.
These are the last tears I will offer you.
They are not for regret
but for reverence.
You were my favorite chapter.
And that will always be true.
But the book continues.
And I, finally,
turn the page.