Sexuality

I awoke in unfamiliar impassioned territory. Pondering ocean blues and orange skies, silk-lined clouds, and chocolate moons. A place unseen by the naked eye, the basic mind, or reason.

Admiring your silhouette, you left and I jealously stood behind watching as you carelessly swayed through the crowd. Rich textures of persuasion and the fullness of scandal whispered through your glide. Your eyes were planted on everyone willing to dive in and drink up, baiting all with your lavish toxins, lovely dark fantasies, and nostalgia. They ate it up.

I caught you peeking over your shoulder with every creeping hour, teasing me, whilst hunting for those waiting to explore. You were ready to inhale all explicit thoughts, spoken and unspoken- you are incredibly classy about your recklessness.

You wore deep entrancing red accessorized with envy green, and your fragrance elicited excitement, curiosity, danger, even melancholy. You’ve become a popular topic amongst the crowd, one that conjures brash and soft judgments, smiles and frowns, elegant and sweet cravings, also hard and erotic thrills; I hated every minute of it.

Your glances are misleading: tempting with desire and detestation. I summoned you. You drip off my lips. I exude you and despise you for it. I have become possessive over what I thought was ours. There must be sincere passionate love underneath the promiscuity, superficiality and deception, or maybe I am naïve.

I found myself in a trance over how it felt to again be immersed in a substance made of your subject. Pure sensuality with no rationality. Temptations to be parsimonious with your interest is overwhelming; I hate sharing what I deem is mine. The recognition, the wink, the soft glances, the indecipherable stares, and the perplexities of your element and intention does something wonderfully wrong to me... and to them all.

Submitting to and wallowing in your numbing haze while consumed with the ideal of your monogamy. Fighting the urge to travel your delicious ingenuity, taste your exotic magnetism, and play again in your addictive natures. The descant of your soul made me sinuously dance and fantasize about the ‘what ifs’ until I became your ‘it.’ I recall the mid-day sunbathing, pleasure amidst the highest heats, deepest moisture, and challenging peaks. It was wonderful and I did not want to part.

See how easily I reminisce! You are an open grave that has proven to be death for me, and somehow, it’s the perfect trap and melody. Soaked in the essence of your song, I begin to fade again to a dark that aroused light, a light that was so loud it silenced, and a silence that awakened my greatest sight, my most intense moans, and my hidden erogenous zones.

Here I am again, staring familiar impassioned territory in its face. Contemplating ocean blues and orange skies, caressing silk-lined sheets, and gazing at chocolate moons. A place often seen by the naked eye, the basic mind, and never reason. Lying uncovered in bliss and regret, my toxic love, again, I have fallen in your net.

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