I have been burning bridges
The days are wreathed in smoke. I have set fire to all of the breathless, exotic nights and sensual, perfumed afternoons that might have been. I have watched the flames consume the leather and the rope, the blindfold and the whip, and the gentlest, most loving of touches on waiting skin. I have seen desire, passion, submission and romance evaporate in the heat.
I have witnessed the end of the dance, and of the dancing. The movement and the rhythm smoulder sullenly in the ashes. I can still taste charcoal and sorrow in my mouth.
There is no return to the dark, decadent, gorgeous place where I once was a lover, and a master. There is no going forward into the surrendering arms of yearning women whose ache resonates with my own.
These sacrifices have purified me. For the first time in more years than I care to remember, I am clean.
I am going home.