Beautiful, depraved

Intimacy. Debauchery. Irreverence.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

My composite lover

I’ve come to read so much in the braille of my lovers’ bodies: Soft, pliable flesh of a gentle soul. Ripply hardness of a fiery polo player and ruthless deal-maker. All of my lovers form one, big composite lover who inspire me to bring out different parts of myself to meet them. In bed and out. Some are gentle, and surprise me that a thousand feather light touches can penetrate so deeply. Someone else will slam me up against the wall, meeting me in that bed-shaking hardness that I so often crave. It’s sexual homeopathy – like cures like. *

With some, I drop into my intellect and wit. I miss that sometimes. Others are more heartfelt and emotional so my poet I become - we float in the sea of that “never-ending simple tenderness” that Neruda speaks of.

It is a conscious gear shifting I do within myself. As much as I lead them, they lead me.

* This concept I first saw on a blog – Sexual Homeopathy - Myths and Metawhores.