Lust

Lust is the cause of generation

-Leonardo Da Vinci

You are much younger than me, only 19. That bothers me some, because I am a lot older than you and know that maturity matters. You seem quiet, innocent, but you are very cute. I can’t help but find you attractive.

I get to know you, and I increasingly like what I get to know. You seem adventurous, and fun. You start to remind me of what it feels like to love again, to have passion, to feel romance, to be in love, to be vulnerable, even though heartbreak is dangerous for me. God, it has been such a long time since I have felt that, but I have to say it is nice to feel.

We sit in my car and talk, and I can’t keep my hands off you, and neither can you it seems. We are close, and the attraction of you is like the incredibly pull of a magnet, pulling me in, drawing me close, and leaving me wanting you more. I check myself to see if I am wearing any metal – no, there seems to be no metal on my body so it can’t be some sort of sophisticated electromagnet you’re using on me. It can only be you’re aurora.

The night quickly fades and you have to go soon I know. I don’t want you to go, I could stay with you all night, but every chapter has an ending, and every every page must be turned for the next for story to unfold and build anticipation.

You texted me the next morning, and the next day, and it made me feel good about myself. Made me feel validated maybe, but nevertheless good. Was this real? Was I actually having a human connection with you? Or was this fake and just a phase for someone else, only to leave me wondering where you went? Time will only tell. Time will only tell.

Then the next day you texted me. “I’m still not over someone else,” you say.
“I’m sorry but I don’t want to lead you on,” you then explain. I was confused, and felt let-down.

So I replied with a very long message and used every magical writing power I had. It worked, and seemed to completely change your mind. You seemed to want me more than ever now. We started texting more, talking more. The anticipation was building. You got more sexual, and started teasing me. I loved it, and wanted more. I teased you too, and you loved it and wanted more. You would tell me, “God, I want you so bad right now,” and I would tell you I want you too. I would think about you and text you more than anyone I have texted for years. Is this lust? Is this the beginnings of falling in love? Why do I feel such an attraction to you, and why does it feel like you have a power over me that I cannot control yet feels so good? I look forward to seeing you again, and it would be ok with me if we just cuddled. I just want you to be close to me, close to my body, so that I can be close to you and feel the nice feeling of having you near. I want to feel your skin against mine, instead of these cold lifeless sheets in my bed, and I want to talk to you and ask you more questions and attempt to figure you out, what makes you tick, and and what makes you happy, sad, and satisfied.

I know patience is a virtue, but you’re a girl who knows how to make it hard and seemingly impossible to wait. I will only ask you to do one thing for me that you probably won’t be able to do anyway – just promise me you won’t break my heart like the others?

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