More poetry (not mine)

(I am not sure at all
if love is salve
or just
a deeper kind of wound.
I do not think it matters.)

If it was lust or hunger
& not love,
if it was all that they accused us of
(that we accused ourselves) -
I do not think it matters.

Erica Jong


Sometimes I miss lusting someone more than I miss loving someone. I miss the feeling of making decisions with my cunt instead of my brains, or even my heart. Of doing something (or someone...) just because of desire. I miss pure wanting. I miss the connection of bodies more than the connection of souls.

Love lasts longer than lust and I don't believe that lesbian bed death happens every time, but let's face it, the intense desire fades and changes. That's the way it goes.

Too bad I'm so goddamn picky. I find very few people attractive.

What comes to ex-boy/girl/whatever/friends and such sometimes it's hard to remember why I found them physically attractive. Usually it's easy to remember the other reasons why those relationships are over. When the lust is over and the love, if there was any, sometimes I just look at those people and wonder "how on earth I wanted to fuck her?". Then there are the moments when I see some ex of mine and I remember why, I see something that reminds me. Maybe it's a way to walk, maybe it's a smile, maybe a look in their eyes, maybe lighting a cigarette in a certain way... Small, weird things. But those moments make me miss feeling desire. And miss the feeling of being desired.

It's easy to guess where these thoughts came from. Friday I saw briefly a woman I had a one-night stand with years ago and I tell you, her smile... Still, again, made my knees go weak.