A monk and his love

Letter to my lover 6

My loving Yeshe.

My heart aches for you my loving Lama. My current life is a flop. I try to find you my love but I am bombarded with un compassionate men and toxic relations. How I miss being in your arms. Your kisses. And your compassion.

I remember being in your arms one morning when we were in Eastern Turkestan.  We were living in squalor and begging but it was better then being hungry and homeless. It was just one room. I was in your gangly boney arms we were kissing in our bed. We still had our robes on so we could be identified as Tibetan not Turk or Chinese. You started to missy my chakras. when you got to the root, my womanhood, I let out a moan of pleasure. Took your head and kissed your lips and then our tounges made their dance of love. I couldn't believe that some did not believe in your brand of Buddhism and your idea of free love. But I did and still do. We remain the room making love and with our few worldly possessions. There was more begging but you still taught me calligraphy and the teachings. The begging was humiliating because people look at us as two monks having an affair- which is true but I am female. They stare as we kiss eachother making semi love as we beg.

"look at this freak show, " one person said as they give us our money for food and ran off.

"Gypsies!" Another said.

I said that we were two Lamas that were on the run but needed to eat. I was not angry I was educating them. You were proud of me from my learning.

It was when we got back with the money and food that I started to weep. You gently whiped my tears and kissed me. That night we made tantric love. You need not to teach me anything for i new everything. Oh the pleasure.

I said that we were two Lamas that were on the run but needed to eat. I was not angry I was educating them. You were proud of me from my learning.