TWIN FLAMES

Inspired by Never Be Far-Alex Warren

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HAPPY READING.

(Please I just really want y’all to read while the song is playing to get the vibe. Thank you)

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I started documenting our relationship the moment we met.

It was strange because I’d never been one to journal. But there was something there. Something so special that I knew I never wanted to forget the details. Or maybe I was afraid that if I didn’t write it down, I’d convince myself I imagined it.

We weren’t soulmates. No, we were something wilder. Unpredictable. Untamable.

You came in and flipped my life off its hinges. Messed up everything I believed was true. Confused me and held me captive.

I had no heart, which was ironic for a writer with two romance novels out at the time. I had loved and lost and promised myself to keep the rest of the love in my heart within the safe worlds of fiction. Love behaved better on the page. It stayed where I put it. It couldn’t get broken again.

But you…

You burst in and snatched it from the pages and declared it yours. It was bloody and messy and you still took it.

And in retaliation, I took something from you too. I found your heart where you hid it and stole it. That’s how I justified it, if we were both thieves, no one had to be a victim.

Funny how we hadn’t even seen each other face ro face but we owned a piece of each other.

And when we met, it was like we ignited an inferno. You had me utterly and completely. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to disappear into someone until you offered yourself as the place to hide.

I opened the door, saw you, and it was like all the hunger my body could muster panted for you. And you fed me until I was sated.

You took me everywhere. Our souls had a conversation at the door. You ate me on the kitchen counter. You entered me and then put me together in every corner of my house. I called it intimacy, never asking why it always felt like something was being taken apart before it was put back together.

The entire weekend was spent in your arms, with us relearning the missing parts of our souls. Or inventing them. It’s hard to tell the difference when you want something badly enough. When wanting becomes the point.

It was harder being apart after that. The obsession had grown, developed into something terrifying. Even I knew it was moving too fast, but I was caught up in the exhilarating thrill of being in love wholly and truly. Being in love in the way that completely transforms you.

Because you did that. You changed me. Every book I wrote then was infused by the joy and freedom you made me feel. I didn’t notice how narrow my world had become because I thought I was glowing with you.

As quickly as it crescendoed, it fell.

This fall wasn’t clean. We would break apart only to come together again. We would call it quits and then be fucking in the bathroom of a supermarket simply because we glanced at each other across the aisle and saw the other there. Desire never cared about timing. Or dignity. Or consequences.

It was painful, but the kind of pain we both kept crawling back to. We loved each other but couldn’t survive together. And because we couldn’t survive together, it was easier to hate each other. Hate felt safer than wanting. Hate had edges. Wanting was bottomless.

Twin flames. That’s what it’s called. That’s what we are. A pretty name for a fire that confuses destruction with destiny.

I saw you again for the first time in twenty years. You came to my book signing with your daughter. You looked at me with no recognition on your face, but I knew that was a façade. I knew because the indifference on mine was a façade too. We’d always been good at pretending. Especially with each other.

And I hated myself.

I hated myself because I was happy when your daughter said her mother was dead.

I hated myself because I was soaking my panties the entire time you were there.

I hated myself because I was two seconds away from begging you to run to the bathroom with me and fill me up like you used to.

I hated myself because I had finally picked up the pieces and, with one glance at you, it all crumbled.

I hated myself because I couldn’t hate you. I could never hate you.

I pulled out my journals the moment I got home—after giving myself three earth-shattering orgasms while imagining you fucking me—and with those journals I wrote this book.

I told myself it was catharsis. I told myself it was closure. I didn’t tell myself the truth, that I was reaching for you in the only way that was still safe.

I don’t know why, but this is the quickest book I’ve ever written. My fans won’t know the book is a letter to you. Your daughter won’t either. But you will. You’ve always known when something was meant for you.

This copy is a special edition for only you. I know you read books before opening the acknowledgements, so you won’t read this until you’ve finished the book.

But if you do, and you still believe what we had was love, you know where I live.

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I woke up by 3am, soaked in my own sweat and all I could think of was the first line. I didn’t know where my brain was going with it but I just kept the idea and slept back.

Woke by 5am, and the song was the only persistent song in mind, which is weird cause while I like the song, it’s never really been a favourite. Then I realized it matched.

So I sat down, put the song on repeat and started writing.

Got halfway and stopped. Brain juice didn’t know where we were going.

It’s six pm and I finished it.

Oh there’s also the fact I saw a tweet on Soulmates vs Twin flames before I went to bed.

Amalgamation is beautiful.

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed reading it.

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(please just do the above as your birthday gift to me)