Sometimes it takes but a look to know when a woman is in love, and yet in that glance she is also hidden in the fog. A mystery that shrouds her. It makes her far more interesting, what has caused that woman to open her heart in such a manner to one. What is it that slipped in through the veil, tearing down the walls to reach in and seize a heart.
With a dagger he cuts the vein and she bleeds, a sweet crimson red that will engulf. It is an addictive poison that brings the seeker to return time and again to drink in full of that love. To nearly bathe his senses in the depths of a woman in love. To feel that vital essence from her, as she gives her self over. Such a dangerous battle field, love, it is cunning, like a fox; coy and alluring, seductive, tempting, just begging for you to drink of it.
Love is a Pandora's box. Once open the pains and darkness that it is fills the room. It will either give life or steal it. Bring joys or terrorizing pains. The eyes of one that is in love can be a haunting nightmare, or silent strength. Love will not sit in the background. It will not stay in silence, it will not stay still. Its like an oracles dance, a gypsy muse, Love has many dimension to it.
What strength does she who submits her self to that kind of love. How does she bask with in it and not become swallowed. Where is the light in the darkness that surrounds her, it is he who has won the love. Through distance, through controversies, through pains, the sorrows, the joys, the ecstasy, the thrills and chills. Blood and daggers, it is he who stands there with eyes that will pierce your very soul. Tear at the fabric of your being, he is your anchor and you are his sweetest poison.
He will do anything to drink of that poison again. Feel the flesh of the one that surrenders to it, how she trembles with a touch, how she aches for it again. Crying out in pleasures. Moving with that mystical grace of a lynx. Hypnotizing you, memorizing you. Oh how tantalizing she becomes, even the scent of her perfume will pull you. The exotic roll of her voice as it slips out like ribbon over the shell of your ear. She become the purification, driving out the Hiths venom, the dark vengeance of the past. Cleansing the heart and soul with all that she gives.
Igniting the tempest with in her, bringing her to life. She will steal your breath and yet give it right back. Cause your heart to race and yet soothe you as well. She will become your vixen and goddess.
It takes a great strength to love one man, to love a true gorean man and yet remain of iron will to stand at his side. Become the tempest in the private moments and yet possess the fierceness to remain the epitome of a free woman. To love him enough to walk away. Love him utterly without fail even when apart. To forever remain his.
May I be the purification he deserves.
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