That longing for someone.
Sometimes difficult to untangle from other feelings. Friendship, admiration, wanting that which is not mine. Perhaps even love..
Desire has filled my days with breathlessness and with desperate hope. It has ruined sleep with longing and with twisted sheets.
And even when desire is requited, the hunger returns. Often before she is fully dressed. A glimpse of thigh to make my pulse quicken.
Yet where does it all go?
How does that impossible ache, that yearning, that hunger all disappear, disperse, evaporate? What happens to that seemingly endless need for the perfection of her skin, for the miracle of her cheekbones, for the eloquence of her eyes, the sculpture of her breasts, the geometry of her calves and thighs,
What is that quenches the flame?
I have reached the conclusion that it is her exit that extinguishes the light.
There is some defence within me that cannot long for that which does not wish to be mine. The beauty who bore another man’s child. The girl who could not believe in me. The long time lover who needed a forever I would not give. The submissive who could not be mine completely. The lovely young woman who simply drifted away.
My pride will not allow me to be a victim.. To plead, to reach out, to cling, to beg, are not things I have ever done. Or ever can do.
I simply, somehow, completely inexplicably, after a brief period of silent mourning, let go.
And desire for her gently subsides. It ebbs away from me.
And yet I wish it were not so.
It is a weakness, not a strength.
Copyright : The author writing as Romantic Dominant
Photograph given to me a long time ago.