This post is Grassroots, meaning a reader posted it directly. If you see an issue with it, contact an editor.
If you’d like to post a Grassroots post, click here!

May 5, 2023

Ruins of Desire

Photo by Loc Dang on Pexels.

The wounded feminine and masculine – are they the epitome of a perfect couple? Who are they and why is it important to surpass these traits within ourselves? Or do we just live with it? A reflection of our inner demons.

‘Could we roam like wild horses, in the present?’

‘Could we set each other free, in this desire?’

This is a  story about some moments. A pleasing anecdote of continuous desire between two wounded souls. Together they immersed themselves on a path of self-sabotage.

The year seemed like a long time ago, in, a beach town filled with free-love, soulful music, and a tantric lifestyle. Love was all around yet hearts were closed. Intimate parts of the body were not so intimate and throbbed in delight at the sight of oozing desires and many lovers. The people of this town drifted and danced away to the sway of their desires, drunk in those energies. Drumming to the beat of their hearts under the trance of every full moon. Mama Yemanja smiled across the wild waters, blessing their virility.

The nights were many when Juan would see ‘her’ everywhere- dancing like a dakini or just oozing in her joyous self. His wandering eyes were always looking for the next attractive woman.’

She was Diana- the one with the fierce hips and timid smile. Her eyes would often catch him staring, deeply at the curves of her tanned body.’ It was easy to say, she was attracted to a certain kind of man- creative, full of enthusiasm, with deep intellectual capacities. Juan was exactly the kind she’d like to have tied up to her bedpost.

Undressing with their eyes from the very first moment they saw each other. Juan’s loins were clairvoyant to Diana’s fertility. Pretending, yet deeply aroused in presence. He would lose control at the sight of her, all inches long. She wanted and waited to taste the salty tip of his veins. In this man’s presence, deep breaths of moisture would seep in through the corners of her composed womanhood. They consumed each other’s minds & their eccentricities with acceptance and admiration.

‘A wicked game of ‘how much do you want me’- they played it as much as they could till those trembling bodies couldn’t bear it anymore.

Making love many nights and deeply fucking on some other days. Breathing deeply together to the rhythm of their impatience. He touched her lines of pleasure like the strings of his violin. She bewitched him deeply like he was in a trance.

But the missing element in their tryst was never to be found. Or it was lost and found, to be thrown and tossed around in their thoughts. Decayed amidst the ruins of a potential coupling, like Pompeii. Living proof of lusty remnants…

They were a reflection of each other in ways one couldn’t understand. She was his biggest nightmare with her free-spirited ways that he couldn’t tame. His wandering eyes exposed every inch of that insecurity. There was no space for lies here, standing in front of each other as they were. Every time he uttered a word about being with her or even wanting her, there was an instant response to run and escape. And she didn’t expect anything more than this from a seemingly charming man. When he saw beauty in every woman, she saw beauty in them too. It was a mixed bag of emotions. Diana was every other man’s dream in the physical world of lust. Her eyes sometimes went for the wounded one with kinky tendencies. A desire to seek validation painted with colours of sexual bliss- she was blinded by her own addiction to pleasure.

Through some tears of realisation one day she had found the answer. All they could ever offer each other was a sacred yet sensual connection. But that wasn’t enough.

Confused and young, she wanted to take a new step. Both were lost in the seemingly spiritual community, living in the moment with everyone. She accepted this as the end, with a smile. It was a good feeling to realise not everything was someone else’s fault. They were just two people who’d met at the wrong time.

Sometimes a story can be sexy but what is the conclusion? I am not ashamed to say that I still don’t know the answer. We bid farewell in the most conscious way acknowledging the beauty of being wounded lovers. Our attraction keeps getting better as the years go by and we keep making love deep down in our twisted yet liberated minds.

Leave a Thoughtful Comment

Read 0 comments and reply

Top Contributors Latest

Ann Loraine  |  Contribution: 2,565