Sex
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“Knowing the self, being a place of limitation, being then what a human is. A source of imperfection. Inclusiveness is, therefore, not the way to involve the everything or anything of the world.” – Modern Romanticism Inclusiveness resides upon the involvement of those who are said to not be respected for “who they are”. Yet,
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“Not the love, but the trust, that quits its breath. For nothing hurts more of the ended romance, than knowing we still love them. Such means, that not love, but the trust, always dies. We love them, still remaining hurt, though our trust, our closeness, is now the parting. For as love dwells in the
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“A man is gifting, when he forsakes what he feels, for the feelings of a woman. A man is vain, when he forsakes what a woman will feel, for the sake of what he can attain. If, in bed, a man cannot gift to a woman her pleasure, in sole focus on her feelings, then
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She entertains to the sight of this mirror, leaning against this room’s furthest corner. Upon her blankets to a twin bed, ruffled as they are to the outcome of a night’s soaring passion, she swims through the waves of them to partake for a closer look. She is adorable to her nature, agleam to her
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“Marriage is meant for sex, not sex is meant for marriage. Why does a man doubt his decision to propose? It might be for the reason that all his secrets, among the woman’s secrets, have already been shared, through they sex they’ve already been having. Sex is revealing. Though, more-so than flesh, it is revealing
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Where have graces taken thee,When you shielded before fate and misery?You play with the night,Like a bouquet of roses,Sniffed by children, and eaten by cats. Believe me, in my woe,You are the doomed harlot,The failed woman of many curses.Among that god between your legs,There are eyes that cry a sorrow. You glisten by day,To glisten
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There is much to adore of a form so raw with flesh. She shows bravery by walking to a place where she may admire her form. As I peer through this window to see her, I may watch the breasts move upwards, as she steers such a form. I may see her cheeks with redness
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Those kisses,To which I offer for two nipples,And a bottom,To which I offer my grip.Your face asks for a stare,My own; I’ve become aware. Your eyes show stars;I am in their marveling glance,Deep kisses I share to a face,Upon two cheeks, these kisses are laid,Upon two lips, these kisses are laid,They are laid down, so
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Wherefore do we speak, when in an embrace,From words that ripple through our forms?Entwined, we dance between velvet stars,Entangled, we have mourned in past memories.I am your child, and I am puny.You are my beloved, and I am in you. Sheets surround us,A rope is at our feet.A love has groped us,A love that set
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Your growing fragrance,Matches this room and its aromatic candles.And I have found it upon myselfWith my hands to claw at the flesh of thee,To tear and yank the burden of attire I see,To match the nakedness to the maker of me,Who is a demon that I cannot let flee.You have sweat glistening upon an arm,And
Modern Romanticism 