The Emperor đź‘‘
There are lovers, and there are mirrors. And sometimes, if you squint just right in the smoke of it all… they’re the same thing.
from “The Mango Men & Other Manifestations” by Zi B. Savage
I met this lovely Emperor during a heatwave that cracked the sidewalks and whispered omens into the steam. A storage unit summer filled with all of my mistakes — when everything’s in flux, boxed up, transitioning. The usual. The kind of season where the sun feels personal, like it’s asking you questions you’re not ready to answer.
I was sweaty, overwhelmed, borderline manic and itchy from all of the dust, when I saw him gliding down the street and into the parking lot like a mirage on a motorized-bike. Maybe he could bring me some water. Why is he wearing all black? It's like a million degrees outside. His hair was dark brown, straight and looped into a bun. Tall, well over 6 feet. He kind of looked liked a rugged model and had unique features.
He rode in and out of the building a few times before I felt him staring at me then he stopped to come over. He offered to help as I was packing up my guitar. Turned out he was an LA local in the music scene who left and landed in Miami a few years ago. He was originally from Italy. His mother was Italian and his father Japanese.
He lifted a box with one hand like it was a feather and asked me at the same time what I did. I told him I was a spiritual teacher & artist. He said, “So you turn pain into pleasure” And just like that, the game began.
The Emperor was part musician, part lost soul and part what I soon learned to be a narcissistic. A Cancer sun— which meant he could write me a love song, ghost me for three days, then send me a neatly crafted message about how often he was thinking about me. He knew a lot of a wealthy people in Miami. Spent a lot of time at fancy parties, going places on fancy jets. Blah blah blah.
We started talking. His voice was silky & deep. A little warm like honey. Late nights turned into early mornings. We’d FaceTime for hours while both pretending we weren’t catching feelings. But our spirits were already intertwining at every corner.
He had stories. So did I. He liked to call himself a shapeshifter. I don't know why I didn't see that coming. I called myself a phoenix. You see where this is going right?
The Emperor didn’t just want to kiss me. He wanted to understand me. Unravel me. Study the topography of my trauma and the pitch a fucking tent there.
He told me he’d never been this drawn to someone before. He said he saw visions when I sang. He said he could feel my ancestors watching him too, which he was right, they always were. They watch everyone who tries to come close to me.
And just when I let my body melt into his warmth — he turned cold.
The First Disappearance.
We had just had one of those soul sex weekends — you know the type. The kind where everything slows down and every word feels like it’s written in a forgotten language. I sang to him that night while he played the guitar.
Then: nothing.
No text. No call. He vanished as if he was summoned somwhere. And I spiraled — because I knew he wasn’t gone. He was online— but not checking in with me.
It wasn’t ghosting. It was emotional withholding. Controlled absence.
I tried to hold my center. Tried to remember who I was while I watched his behavior. But at my core I am also a lover. A feeler. A hyper-empath with abandonment trauma. I knew this and he knew this.
And just when I was about to block him — ping.
“Hey, sorry. I’ve just been in a cave emotionally. Needed to balance my energy.”
No mention of me. No curiosity about how I felt. Just… his stupid fucking cave.
We fell into the cycle.
He’d come back with grand declarations. He wanted to build something. Said I was a portal. Said our connection was “bigger than this timeline.” We’d talk for hours. I’d forgive him, every time.
Then the emotional gate would slam shut again.
It was like he was playing hide & go seek like a child.
The Emperor wanted devotion without vulnerability. Worship without sacrifice.
And at the time I gave it — until I couldn’t.
There was one night I remember vividly. We were at the beach again. Our third time back at the same stretch of sand, this time under a full moon. We laid under the stars in silence, our hands barely touching. I started to feel unsafe around him but couldn't recognize it then.
Then he asked:
“What are you calling in today?”
I said, “A love that doesn’t leave when it gets inconvenient.”
He was quiet for a very long time. I thought he hadn’t heard me.
Then he stood up and walked toward the water.
No response. No reflection. Just an exit. Whimp.
That was the beginning of the end.
I saw him a few more times after that. Each encounter was shorter. Less soulful. More static.
And yet… he stayed in my head like a hymn. I kept re-reading our old messages. Listening to the voice notes. Looking for clues. I was still auditioning for his love — even after he’d canceled the show.
It took me weeks to realize: I had fallen for a projection. A curated masculine. A man who knew how to perform intimacy without ever surrendering to it. I knew why this had to happen. The lesson I had to learn.
The Emperor isn’t just about control. It’s about illusion.
A mirror that flatters but never reveals. A throne with no seat. Power with no protection.
And I — the High Priestess with a cracked heart — had tried to heal him by offering him my light.
But The Emperor wasn’t looking for light.
He wanted a stage.
So I left.
Not with a bang. Not with closure. Just a quiet, delete and never looked back.
I wrote a letter I never sent. I burned the cords and forgave myself.
And in the mirror of that mirage, I saw something real:
✨ I was always the Empress.
✨ He just couldn’t hold the garden.
🔥 Fact or Fiction?
So tell me beauties… do you think this one was real, or just a silly made up story? 🍑✨Next Friday on ZiTV we’re playing Fact or Fiction Again — I’ll tell you what really happened, what I exaggerated, and what was way too NC17 to admit 🔥Drop your vote now with the hearts, bring your sexy love stories, and let’s laugh (or cry) through Lion's Gate together. Because it's time we all get the last laugh 💋Don’t forget to subscribe so you never miss a midnight drop. Love you!
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💚 100% FACT – I lived it, no edits💛Kinda real – Truth with a twist❤️ Total fiction – But you still pictured it, didn’t you?
