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the willing captive. - syren. [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Syren de la Lune.

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the willing captive. [Jan. 28th, 2010|08:48 am]
[melody |this woman's work.]

If nothing else right now, I have a such rich mind for fantasy. Not by any comparison, but by what suits me. It probably seems sad, but I feel like some sort of little magic for being able to summon up such strong feelings just by the power of thought. Although by life situation we had fallen apart a little, I remember how K's singing and laughter arrested me this way when we stayed together in Geneva.. I would be in a different room and could hear him from whichever room he was in... immediately I'd be so taken. Stop whatever it was I was doing, turn off my own music, and just listen to him with every ounce of myself.. feeling like my heart was blossoming and i flourished. want to find the strength to take myself to him or i should secretly admire for fear of disturbance? no living thing I'd ever known created sounds so celestial.. i'd want to give him the nickname of 'Heaven' because that's what he was to me. even through the years and battled, it delighted me the slightest touch of my senses from him could make me feel drunk.

The only draw-back is that I choreograph each desire to such a high degree that I sub-consciously give myself high expectations. The chances are, these things just won't happen in real life, which sometimes upsets me. But I know it shouldn't, and that it's just foolish to spend so much time dreaming when I should be spending time doing. I'll never even get close if I don't do enough, but I've always been so frightened that if I try it will just not happen the way I wanted it to. I've felt close enough... and some things have happened in real life. I think, being in a classroom, and conjuring up all these little secret situations which could blossom from this kind of enviroment, put a new spin on how I've seen romance twinned with life. To be honest I never really link the two... There is romance and then there is life. Love is always Heaven and never was something I felt I could juggle with any sense of responsibility. I've succeded slightly by allowing this imagined romance to flourish by placing frames on the time we could be able to spend together which has rendered the strictness of a classroom layout desirable to me where I once found it tedious. It's exasperating, but not nearly in the same way as it was tedious; - I love toying with the occurance that would have us 'resisting': on edge of seats, exchanging looks, trembling, frantic, pinning hopes on stolen moments. And following out through breaks in the day would see us return, laughing lightly through the weight of emotion we've just shared and yet it still being not enough, testing our commitment to life outside of love. It reminds me a little of.... [cliche as it is, I don't care (think I've gone past that already anyway!)... It's classic] ...

O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold,
Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not wear them.
- Romeo & Juliet.

There is such a thing as insatiability.. It is so real. Time suspended, my soul by fever transformed into worlds-within-worlds possibility. Merely thinking of him like this arrests me, and I smoulder as a willing captive of my own desire... 


It would feel so right to kneel at his feet while he would sit up; my gaze directed upward.. the slightest touch and he can do as he pleases with me...
But he persists that he be the one who kneels!.. and we fight playfully. then sit entwined..
outside in the fresh air he horses around, and picks flowers for me.
i have this fixation because it's what i want to do.. picking flowers... the process of choosing the most compatible matches in a combination which best suits loves constantly changing beauty and mood. and we keep them by our bed, so many bouquets of them... it makes the bed look as though it's inhabited by someone ill or dying.. so many flowers. like a tribute..
yes a sweet death occured, when i left my former life behind and found you.
and now all is total intoxication and i'm half-frightened of how far this bliss can be pushed.. it is almost too much..
at this he smiles, knowing his intention... 'just when you think all has calmed.. i will engulf you with ever more passion than before.'
[i am taken infinitely by this, alone]
drunkenly we fight and softest moans seem to come from my heart itself. his expressions in the prelude to our lovemaking have the sensitivity of a woman. his eyes are light and low-lashed, bedroom. his lips part easily to reveal teeth which bite teasingly at my lips.
so heavy is the desire and so desperate our passion that bruises, bites, cuts all are made helplessly in this restless struggle for complete mutual possession.
it is only after our climax that we may rest.

[User Picture]From: ancareth_raven
2010-01-28 03:45 pm (UTC)
I absolutely love the way you express passion and desire in words. Delicious.
(Reply) (Thread)
[User Picture]From: iris_diaphanous
2010-01-29 05:59 pm (UTC)
I hope your dreams come true just as you wish.
I believe they will, because the mind can be so strong and your heart is beautiful.
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