It makes little sense this passion for you; this hunger that marks my days and my nights, this craving that racks flesh yielding and soft, this torrent of carnality, sultry sensuality, this yearning that shakes me through to the core.
It makes little sense.
And yet, it makes little sense without you; this desiring body at home with your touch, this woman of longing at peace in your kiss, this being familiar, this figure estranged reflected in the glass back at me. It makes little sense. She makes little sense.
I make little sense without you near.
Love rarely makes sense.
And yet what you said makes perfect sense to me
My dear, it makes perfect sense on a global level. Men and women throughout the ages have perfectly confounded one another. We love, hate, desire, abhor, stay, leave, sometimes all at the same time. We as a species are unable to fully understand the whys or hows, we just go with it and hope for the best. Yes, IT makes little sense, yet we happily dive back into IT the moment a new opportunity arises. Perhaps those more jaded hold back some, but in the end, we all fall to love.
Os: Indeed. But is this love or merely addiction? I suspect it's the latter…
NV: It means rather a lot you think so. Thank you…
stareintotheabyss: You're so very right, KJ. Time and again, we drink down that dizzying cocktail of emotions and sensations because it makes us feel alive, because we're compelled by that extraordinary other, because the flesh intoxicates the rational mind…
You only have to ask nicely 🙂
That's very good to know, Supercock…
I probably wouldn't have phrased it this way, but… this is exactly the situation I'm in. It doesn't make sense to be in love with the person I love. But to not love her? That would make even less sense!
I suppose my phrasing is particular because my situation differs from yours somewhat.
I can see how it makes no sense at all not to love your girl. She's clearly a truly exceptional person worthy of your love and affection…