In the hours and days and weeks that slide imperceptibly away, in the grip of his fire, in the face of his presence, in the space of his absence, in the past tense of his desire, she realises with an almost painful clarity that this is no longer a game. She realises that he is unlike any other, that he is the man of flesh and blood and word and passion, the man ideal, the man flawed that she has always longed to meet. He is the man, he is that man, the one who inspires thoughts profound and profane, who speaks to her erotic and carnal longings, who pierces a place deep inside her she can barely acknowledge, let alone articulate.
She knows this now; knows it her bones, in her cunt and her heart and her soul.
She knows this just as she knows she will soon be forgotten, replaced, leaving the barest whisper of a trace. She knows this just as she knows she will never be that woman for him, he will never want her as she wants him, he will never want in the inquisitive, complex and complete ways that overtake her as the sun shines bright, that taunt her in the darkness, in her dreaming even as she prays to forget, that sweep over her petite form as she splays her legs wide, as she grinds her hips, her palm into her throbbing sex, as she nudges the flimsy cotton aside and spreads her bright lips to circle the nub of her purest pleasure, as she pushes in one digit, then two, then three, as she fingers, as she fucks with animal abandon, with feminine sensuality, her moans, her raged breath bringing him back to life once again, her moans, her murmurs placing him right before her eyes, by her side, her moans, her murmurs, her call to him flooding her ears with his voice, her mouth with his kiss, her senses with his skin and weight and burning need, her moans, her murmurs, her call, her cry binding, enslaving, plunging her headlong into the abyss shadowed and blinding.
As the sheen on her bare, shivering body glistens in the low, winter light, she knows this; she knows all of this. And how she wishes instead for ignorance’s bliss.
Ah, but she also doesn't realize that there are other worthy men she hasn't met yet who will not only accept but appreciate all facets of her. To these men she will be irreplaceable and unforgettable. She is a siren and they will be unable to resist her call.
it's karmic timing that I read this after writing my post on Regrets for TMI. To love passionately in the face of pain and loss is the most courageous thing. But ignorance never was bliss. Not really.
I try to live in blissful ignorance of the truths that surround me but it is wearing thin.
And to clarify, you are, to us, to me, to those who know you, unforgettable, irreplaceable, a constant whisper in the wind that lightens our days and brings a smile to our lips.
Can't imagine anyone who could forget you or replace you.
Nobody forgets.
Beautiful piece.
Gorgeous words of painful longing….
Sometimes ignorance seems like it would be bliss, but I don't think it really is.
Beautiful piece indeed.
Such a powerful piece. Staggeringly beautiful in its melancholy.
The space that has been created will be filled Cheeky Minx.. There is nothing surer than that.
petunia: What a wonderful and beautiful sentiment. I dearly hope you're right…
Advizor: If I'm a mere whisper of that person, that woman for you and others, then I know all will be well. Thank you, A…
Os: You're so good to me…
France: You're right; the memory has a way of retaining our unique trace. Thank you for the reminder, lovely…
Max: Ignorance is a blissful state but only for a moment, I think. The one thing that does linger is my appreciation for your beautiful words, M…
both.hands.please: It's truly heartwarming to know this piece touched you – and that you're so certain of the fate of that space. Thank you so much, bhp…
xxxxxx
Beautiful. Very, very beautiful.
I'm very touched you think so, Mediocrity… x
Yes, very beautiful, but as petunia said, there are other men who would never forget you and who will want to make you happy. And you will never be forgotten, you have already marked some people out there, you know 🙂
Your beautiful words – as well as your certainty – warm my heart and touch my soul, my dear Frenchy… x