It’s the curves of them, those divine contours of skin and shape that challenge the veracity of a Godless universe. The soul too, it’s colored differently than that of the opposite sex. It’s a palette of sweet vulnerability hiding under layers of strength, stamina, resilience, and frequently patience for the other half of the world to catch up to where their minds have been idling, waiting.
The roundness of their nature isn’t simply, exquisitely skin deep, it’s born deep inside. They are the circle, the complete beginning and end of life for which we hope to link, to be let in like another key on a glorious ring that can only support so much before the circle gives out, evolving into something tougher by force of necessity, sacrificing a supposed perfection of symmetry and design to allow another connection, another heart, to hang on the line.
It’s the connection desired most, hidden under lust and greed, but that’s a facade so painfully maintained despite its transparency. The violence and domination simply a rampart of strength where the true song requires not force, but a gentile nature of kindness, respect and attention. Listen when she speaks, hear and understand her burden, smile when she laughs and share with her these quieter moments without plotting an agenda. The flexing of muscles, teeth gritted and blood stained fists will only carry so far, and typically with attention for the baser traits will be a history of continued trauma. It is not the way, for strength isn’t measured by violence, but by an ability to meet her eyes and speak candidly.
She is love, as are you.
We all reach for this satisfaction of our purest desires to be understood, to attain a place in the heart and sex of someone that adores thoroughly the weight of life brought by our association – the careful, measured bending of those initial perfect curves making the original circuit. We want to join and taste the sweetness of union, caress the supple flesh of breasts, thighs, and ass. To slide into passion together when the day expires and mutual fires warm the sunless dark. We are the soft glow of candle flame and the melted wax, liquid and the stiffening as we move together in eager rhythm. The kissing, the meeting of our lips, breath shared and tongues wet with an internal hunger to be together, fused as a single whole as pulses quicken and the air grows thick. We explode and contract instantly, tensed and yet so rapidly melting into those round edges where we fit so comfortably.
We are fire and water, wind and Earth, and the union grows a new circle from the center of the first. It is love, perfect, sincere and delicate. Worship it before any God.
Comments are closed.
My absolute favorite.