If I come on I become an inspiration, I become a muse and a poet, a ballad and an elegy, a song and a story, I become ghost and flesh, shadow and stones. This became the first thought, the first appearance when he came closer to his love, the woman he had seen seven years before now. This warmth moved in their veins, the cold air covered their skin, it began; what she said she will never do, she did. Then the light tripped off, was it the moment or even the electricity could feel the vibration they caused?
What happens when irrevocably hard meets with uncompromisingly wet? There is an irresistible motion with an unexpected silence killed with a racing heart and divine music. What happens when friction subdued is obeisance by wiles of an overarching and overwhelming lubrication, and the heat, that heat, that warm throb that hammers its way into frenzy; the heat, the tightness that grips like the incisors of the lioness when she grips her prey.
A deeper connection, another feeling from another world, a desired oneness and loss of oneself, a feeling of being owned and not being alone, a feeling of I have to stop thinking of any other thing asides what I’m doing. Any other thing would be a distraction, I should just focus. A high pitched volume is the answer. After a while; he spoke “you complete me”. On her part she saw things differently “I’m not complete” she replied.
There wasn’t anything else he could say that won’t ruin the moment but he spoke anyway, “then I would be your completion, your summary and conclusion”. She asked the question that brought the confusion “how do I complete the comprehension?” he went on and said, “that part of the wave that beats the shore with froths of white, and recedes into itself taking with it pieces of the shore and always returning forever.” She was still curious “but does the wave make the sea? Or does the sea make the wave?” he wanted to continue; there is no doubt he knew he loved this woman but this moment was precious “is the glass half empty or half full? Is the bottle half empty or half full?” as crucial as this question seemed, she had an answer “it’s half empty”. This made him sit “the difference lies where you see it, half empty or half full the bottle remains incomplete” “what’s the difference? You or me?” she asked. “We” he replied. She turned her back against him and asked “what exactly is the we? You on top or me on top?” he really had an answer for everything, “we are a sum total of differences that exists between us” she wasn’t clear “can we bring out similarities?” immediately he turned and leaned on her, whispering in her ears what he felt she needed to hear “top or bottom is only perspective, similarities confound eventually I prefer differences, let’s bring out differences because when our differences are alike, they become similarities, in the end similarities confound the mind”.
She wasn’t thoughtless, her mind was filled with questions; “is love processed in the mind or does character process love?” he didn’t want to be away for too long, he felt pain, he answered without a longer hesitation “true love is processed by character” she turned to him, “character can be painted, true love exists but it’s rare.” “Character can’t be painted, character is like smoke, it cannot be hidden, and it will always rise through.” She asked this time placing her head on his warm chest “will the painting faint?” He gave her something to fill her up, he gave her the thought she needed to help her stop pondering over should I submit or should I not? “Character is like a rock formation, formed from thousands of years of weathering, stands obvious to the world. Painting will faint but character is inscribed and engraved when people gaze at the rock they don’t see the work of time on it, just hats before their eyes. And that is character” she made her decision and left him with a shallow blow “then I’d love” he held her tight, gave her a kiss and restored the moment “then I’d lead in love”.
What happens when irrevocably hard meets with uncompromisingly wet? There is an irresistible motion with an unexpected silence killed with a racing heart and divine music. What happens when friction subdued is obeisance by wiles of an overarching and overwhelming lubrication, and the heat, that heat, that warm throb that hammers its way into frenzy; the heat, the tightness that grips like the incisors of the lioness when she grips her prey.
A deeper connection, another feeling from another world, a desired oneness and loss of oneself, a feeling of being owned and not being alone, a feeling of I have to stop thinking of any other thing asides what I’m doing. Any other thing would be a distraction, I should just focus. A high pitched volume is the answer. After a while; he spoke “you complete me”. On her part she saw things differently “I’m not complete” she replied.
There wasn’t anything else he could say that won’t ruin the moment but he spoke anyway, “then I would be your completion, your summary and conclusion”. She asked the question that brought the confusion “how do I complete the comprehension?” he went on and said, “that part of the wave that beats the shore with froths of white, and recedes into itself taking with it pieces of the shore and always returning forever.” She was still curious “but does the wave make the sea? Or does the sea make the wave?” he wanted to continue; there is no doubt he knew he loved this woman but this moment was precious “is the glass half empty or half full? Is the bottle half empty or half full?” as crucial as this question seemed, she had an answer “it’s half empty”. This made him sit “the difference lies where you see it, half empty or half full the bottle remains incomplete” “what’s the difference? You or me?” she asked. “We” he replied. She turned her back against him and asked “what exactly is the we? You on top or me on top?” he really had an answer for everything, “we are a sum total of differences that exists between us” she wasn’t clear “can we bring out similarities?” immediately he turned and leaned on her, whispering in her ears what he felt she needed to hear “top or bottom is only perspective, similarities confound eventually I prefer differences, let’s bring out differences because when our differences are alike, they become similarities, in the end similarities confound the mind”.
She wasn’t thoughtless, her mind was filled with questions; “is love processed in the mind or does character process love?” he didn’t want to be away for too long, he felt pain, he answered without a longer hesitation “true love is processed by character” she turned to him, “character can be painted, true love exists but it’s rare.” “Character can’t be painted, character is like smoke, it cannot be hidden, and it will always rise through.” She asked this time placing her head on his warm chest “will the painting faint?” He gave her something to fill her up, he gave her the thought she needed to help her stop pondering over should I submit or should I not? “Character is like a rock formation, formed from thousands of years of weathering, stands obvious to the world. Painting will faint but character is inscribed and engraved when people gaze at the rock they don’t see the work of time on it, just hats before their eyes. And that is character” she made her decision and left him with a shallow blow “then I’d love” he held her tight, gave her a kiss and restored the moment “then I’d lead in love”.
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