A Pool of Tears

Several weeks into the relationship I was sharing my home and my bed with Miles.  There was a feeling of detachment, a disconnection that I was unable to define; at the same time it was as if his presence was intoxicating.  He came at me with the velocity of an eighteen wheeler going ninety miles per hour, a head on collusion, my mind racing faster than my brain could comprehend.  My head was in the clouds, a dim light hovering up above.

     He dressed his conversation with colorful words and tall tales giving the false impression that his life had been lavished with the finer things growing up.  Miles displayed a grandiose attitude, as if he had been feed from golden spoons and eaten off plates dripping with diamonds.