Random thoughts of a woman in love
What is it that you do to me? Why do you pop into my mind when I least expect it? Why am I still not used to that, after all that has happened between us? And how is it that an inflection in your voice can make me feel so tender towards you, make we want to hold you not tightly, just enough for us to melt into each other?
Why am I so aware of your presence, why do I carry a sense of you with me wherever I go, and whatever I do? How is it that I can see your face so clearly, can summon up your voice, your laugh - at will? Sometimes I need to check the memory against the original, and I need to speak to you. To adjust, to tweak, to add another sound byte to the chip.
Why does your pain hurt me so? Why do I feel tired when it is you who have not slept well? And why oh why does any contact with you give me such a burst of energy? So that I smile and smile; and everyone but you can see the effect you have on me?
And tell me my love, why is it that at times I am aware of you in quite a different way? Why this tingling in my lips, which moves down, and down? Stopping at peaks and troughs, swelling hills into mountains, nipples into raisins, and a moistness somewhere somewhere. Breasts ache for release from cotton confinement, wanting only to be captured again. To arch towards you, to let your hands-lips-tongue do what they please, where they please. And to do the same to you.
Wanting you upon me, inside me - to feel you within, to see you without. And to lie with you afterward, limbs entwined, hearts and minds entangled so completely, that I don't know where I start and where you end. Together we watch our souls dancing gently, together yet separate, happily distinct halves of a whole.
Who am I to ask why or how? When this is the closest to heaven I have been.
Why am I so aware of your presence, why do I carry a sense of you with me wherever I go, and whatever I do? How is it that I can see your face so clearly, can summon up your voice, your laugh - at will? Sometimes I need to check the memory against the original, and I need to speak to you. To adjust, to tweak, to add another sound byte to the chip.
Why does your pain hurt me so? Why do I feel tired when it is you who have not slept well? And why oh why does any contact with you give me such a burst of energy? So that I smile and smile; and everyone but you can see the effect you have on me?
And tell me my love, why is it that at times I am aware of you in quite a different way? Why this tingling in my lips, which moves down, and down? Stopping at peaks and troughs, swelling hills into mountains, nipples into raisins, and a moistness somewhere somewhere. Breasts ache for release from cotton confinement, wanting only to be captured again. To arch towards you, to let your hands-lips-tongue do what they please, where they please. And to do the same to you.
Wanting you upon me, inside me - to feel you within, to see you without. And to lie with you afterward, limbs entwined, hearts and minds entangled so completely, that I don't know where I start and where you end. Together we watch our souls dancing gently, together yet separate, happily distinct halves of a whole.
Who am I to ask why or how? When this is the closest to heaven I have been.
posted by Seaweed and Co @ 6:41 AM
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