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Passion

on 13 September, 2015

Yikes! I am remiss in writing on this blog. I guess I was waiting for something to write.

I miss passion. And sex. I was watching an old movie that had the most passionate love scene that really, in most people’s estimates, was very tame. But what was there, what the movie did a good job of portraying, was passion. The way that you might throw your head back when something feels too good, the way your body moves in a rhythm of its own, how you can lose yourself in the warmth and the moment and the way that it just feels oh so good.

To indulge in the sweat and the smells and the heat that bodies generate just from being in close proximity. That touch that almost isn’t that brings a shudder and raised skin when his fingers glide gently along your arm, your leg, the small of your back. When the hours vanish in the blink of an eye, when you breathe together and moan and every little movement is a single note of an orchestra,

As I have gotten older, I knew that passion (and sex) would be less frequent, a more wandering moment than a regular event. The more things don’t work like they should – knees and backs and legs and arms – that make the truly good sex more difficult to have. You never think that in the throes of passion that this might be your last, that once completed, never to begin again. Or how that passion begins so very much before you are ever close enough to one another to touch. To wonder of the thing, of lust and passion and desire. To see him across a room. To lock eyes for the first time. To sense that it is what you want, he wants, and you both want from one another.

Yes, this movie has portrayed this all to well. At least to me. How is this something that has escaped me? Has been too long from me? I think that I may have purposely kept myself from the situations that may have preceded the desire; avoided the disappointment, or inability.

Perhaps I need to change it. Either understand it or stop watching these damned movies.

MacCupcake

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