It is in lying in the arms of several lovers and thinking of the one lover you can never have. It is in having sex with one and imagining what it would feel like to have those moans come out from the lips of the one your heart desires most.
It is in seeing the face of a lover contort in pure pleasure and desire and imagining her face twisted into many sexually pleasant ways.
It is in realizing that dreaming sometimes robs one both of the present joys and gives only an imaginary replacement to the missed moments.
It is in looking into the eyes of the one you are physically present with and finding heaven in what little hell life presents.
Hope is sometimes a cow for the slaughter. One day it's looking well kept and fed, fat and chubby. The next, its tongue hanging out limply from its mouth awaiting the seething pot.
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Bedroom Whispers
Non-FictionThe bedroom holds sacred territory for me. The bed, its altar. One upon which I've offered sacrifices, so many to count and recall. One upon which I currently lay as I once more pay my dues, in taps and clicks. I miss the days when the gods were co...
