The Beauty of Love…All Love

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The following post has inspired me to think and reflect:

https://fictionalkevin.wordpress.com/2015/05/06/trust-and-love/

I was an “all-in” child. I loved and trusted my parents without reservation, and they loved back.  I loved my friends, shared all, played with abandon.  I sent more “I like you do you like me” notes in those prepubescent “crush” years than I can count.  It could be worth pointing out that due to an early growth spurt, a need for glasses, and a series of unfortunate haircuts, not one note came back with “yes” checked (smiles).  Not that that stopped me, of course, from sending one to someone else.

I was sheltered in high school.  Looking back, it was a blessing.  I was a passionate person.  It manifested in dreams and the arts and secret writings.  It was evident in the electricity that shot down my spine when the focus of my affection simply took my hand.  I may have a few resentments over my strict church, but all those warnings probably did prevent me from becoming a potential star on a 1980’s version of Teen Mom!

I’ll spare a play by play of my young and middle adulthood and skip to the end.  I agree with the cited post.  I believe in all-out love.  Otherwise, what’s the point?  If I am going to eat Birthday Cake, as an analogy, I’m going to ask for a corner piece with a rose and lots of icing. J Loving should not be done in half measures.  It’s a waste of beauty.  I have loved….4 times in my life.  One of those loves is still alive in my heart, and I’m going to let it fade in its own time; even unrequited love has value, after all.  But I loved all four times with as much of me as I was able.  The first time was young and dreamy eyed and maybe a bit shallow, but with all the passion a 20-something was capable of (which isn’t as much as they think).  My second began with abandon, and then in order to try to preserve it, the abandon was replaced with caution….but still I loved.  The third time was a reawakening, not meant to be forever but a re-acquaintance with the idea that openness and passion were good things.  The last….the last was an unexpected mixture of laughter and abandon and depth and passion and friendship and getting to experience all the parts of myself present and loving for the first time.  It is the love against which all future loves would be measured.

With every one of those loves there has been pain, along with the lesser pains of those “not-quite-loves” most of us have.  And you know what?  I’ll love again.  I’ll love with abandon.  I’ll choose to open, choose to trust, and choose to give.  And maybe it will be forever. And maybe I will hurt again.

But loving is worth it.  And I am happy and blessed to have experienced it.

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Passion

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Hold me tightly

Take my hand

And guide me into

Passion grand.

Lace your fingers

Into mine,

Kiss my lips,

And trace my spine.

Cause my eyes

To lock with yours

As over me

Passion pours.

Face to face,

And skin to skin,

Let the dance

Of love begin.

My surrender

In your hands,

My will bending

To your plans.

Intimacy

Wrapped in love,

While the heavens

Glow above.

I will follow

Take my hand

While we share

In passion grand.

Daydream Dance

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Her eyes are closed, the television playing softly.

She reaches gently, stroking with the barest fingertips,

Eliciting goosebumps and the urge to curve her spine.

His eyes fill her mind as

Her fingertips trace a circle

Around her navel.

A simple pattern

That calls his smile

To her vision.

Her fingers are smaller,

The pads less rough and worn.

But they are not her fingers while her eyes are closed.

They are his.

She slips the first fingernail

Of her index finger under the waistband.

Delaying the journey,

Drawing out the inches,

Until she finds herself.

And then she moves.

Up and down, fingers bending, curling,

Over and over, deeper by millimeters.

Until her hips move off the bed.

She hears his voice, feels his pulse, smells

The mixture of soap and deoderant and minty toothpaste.

Her fingers probe, her palm presses.

The circle is smaller, more insistent.

She winces from the sting

Of teeth biting her bottom lip.

The ache rises, spreads, tightens –

Not yet –

Until the dance becomes irresistible,

And her body tighten for a split second,

Before the dance takes her over.

And sweat beads, and fingers press,

And the television masks her cry.

And then her hand slips out,

Her body curls onto its side,

She smiles into her pillow,

And dreams.

Present Tense

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Smiling

Touching

Embracing

Kissing

Caressing

Grasping

Moaning

Chuckling

Removing

Undressing

Connecting

Touching

Enveloping

Kissing

Sucking

Tweaking

Massaging

Biting

Licking

Lowering

Arching

Holding

Threading

Pressing

Sighing

Whipsering

Wrapping

Joining

Moving

Swaying

Rocking

Inhaling

Exhaling

Panting

Grinding

Pounding

Gazing

Holding

Moaning

Grimacing

Filling

Drawing

Relaxing

Surrounding

Whispering

Smiling

Sleeping

Dreaming