I stand alone. Empty. In surrender; no resistance. Ready. Waiting.
And there my lover comes. He surrounds me. An envelope of alternating warmth and coolness, sending such delicious tingles down my spine, from where the thrill spreads through every fibre of my body, right down to the tips of my fingers. His touch caresses my skin, tickling it gently, exactly where I like it, delectable, sensitive, even caring. Delightful, pleasurable, without feeling guilty.
The air is so clean, fresh, pure, fulfilling even. Everything feels hallowed, blessed, beautiful. Sanctified, almost. The sensation striding through every nerve under my skin makes me feel so protected, so secure, so loved even, as though there is a promise of affection and passion that is unyielding as granite, inflexible as steel, steady as light, everlasting as time. Something that is always mine to count upon as my own. Something that I can be sure will always be mine. The love of this lover of mine.
I feel blown away. Swept away off my feet. I stand tall and straight and confident, and no trouble can destroy me. No sadness can still me, no regrets can besiege me, no words can hurt me. Such a heady potent cocktail of delight, calmness, joy, serenity... and I feel supreme peace.
The love which no living individual may be ever able to bestow upon me, which may never be mine to have from a living person, which it may not even be in the capacity of any living being to give to me - such love is given me by this lover of mine. The promise which no man alive would ever commit to me - such a promise is given by him, every time he touches me. The joy of being ever straight backed, proud and confident - such grace is granted by him, every time he caresses me.
Such is my lover for me. My lover, the wind.
And there my lover comes. He surrounds me. An envelope of alternating warmth and coolness, sending such delicious tingles down my spine, from where the thrill spreads through every fibre of my body, right down to the tips of my fingers. His touch caresses my skin, tickling it gently, exactly where I like it, delectable, sensitive, even caring. Delightful, pleasurable, without feeling guilty.
The air is so clean, fresh, pure, fulfilling even. Everything feels hallowed, blessed, beautiful. Sanctified, almost. The sensation striding through every nerve under my skin makes me feel so protected, so secure, so loved even, as though there is a promise of affection and passion that is unyielding as granite, inflexible as steel, steady as light, everlasting as time. Something that is always mine to count upon as my own. Something that I can be sure will always be mine. The love of this lover of mine.
I feel blown away. Swept away off my feet. I stand tall and straight and confident, and no trouble can destroy me. No sadness can still me, no regrets can besiege me, no words can hurt me. Such a heady potent cocktail of delight, calmness, joy, serenity... and I feel supreme peace.
The love which no living individual may be ever able to bestow upon me, which may never be mine to have from a living person, which it may not even be in the capacity of any living being to give to me - such love is given me by this lover of mine. The promise which no man alive would ever commit to me - such a promise is given by him, every time he touches me. The joy of being ever straight backed, proud and confident - such grace is granted by him, every time he caresses me.
Such is my lover for me. My lover, the wind.
1 comment:
Post a Comment