He called her boring, as in no fun anymore. Said she’s not living life and now acts like an old woman. No longer appeasing his ideology of what a good time consist. Not getting it at all. She delights in enjoyable amusement. The merriment is just different from his version. Fun that does not contain disastrous consequences that will happen to be the beginning of the end.
How can she tell him why it’s necessary to stop and no longer can she continue to run amuck wild and crazy like? Yes, being the life of the party is enjoyable and those times were some of the best. But there’s a dark side, an alter ego that scratches at the surface to be freed. This other side of her personality must be confined and imprisoned unable to escape. If this charismatic temperament should surface there is no telling what would happen to life as they know it.
Feelings of emotional abandonment and being physically discarded, certain she is utterly invisible to him. For the moment, she’s chosen to live with her companion regardless of the loneliness that has consumed her.The loneliness that is ruining her. Creating a shell of the person she once was. Becoming hollow as attempts made to evolve unfeeling.
It’s essential to prevent the scene to which they’ve grown accustomed to because of her addiction. The urge to be spontaneous with he who pays her notice as she cast about. Searching for that sweet nectar that she’s been deprived of. A corruption that could very easily devour her if allowed.
It’s been too long since she’s had a man’s full attention. Oh sure, her partner will have sex with her once in a while and even offer little pecks as goodbyes are exchanged. But there is no affection, adoration, or no passion. And it’s passion she craves with every fiber of her being. The kind of passion that puts romance to shame. To be doted on, touched, and possessed. Lips caressing every part of her body creating a fire that’s been suppressed far too long. She desires someone to call out her name in a wave of pleasure, then pull her close to hold her while stroking the small of her back. Kissing her. The ache to be kissed like a woman nearly delivers her to the brink of insanity. Haunted by the torment of someone who’s physically there, but already long gone. Ignoring her love for him and deaf to her desperate pleas to save that love. With an addiction such as this, he best pray she can contain her sin.
If boring is what she is now, then that’s what life will be. Boring. If this part of her doesn’t stay in control she will lose everything all for the sake of an exciting one night stand, or worse yet, a long and delicious affair. She couldn’t live with that kind of guilt. It would kill what’s left of her soul.
Guilt is what got her into this mess to begin with.
Her marriage is one of convenience for everyone but herself. Left out in the cold, she withers away to nothing with no one able to save her. Silently she cries waiting for the numbness to encompass her and send her into a quiet delirium until the next time the sun rises.
3 thoughts on “Love. Desire. Passion.”
this is good…
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Thank you. I appreciate you reading my poetry.
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likewise,my pleasure -I appreciate you too…