My Eroticism Went With Her

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She left.

And my eroticism went with her.

It loved her.

It loved the expression, all the ways it could express itself, the gentle, the tender, the fire and the beast.

It loved the passion.

It loved the freedom, that there was no place it could not go, nothing it could not talk about or share, it was welcome, all of it. And it revelled in that.

It loved, oh so many things we did. I won’t share them here, they were ours.

It loved the intensity, the depth, the texture, the smell, the taste, the sounds, the words, the breath, the…Intensity of everything.

It loved being revealed, revealing me, undressing, opening, my body, my mind, my heart, my thoughts.

It loved being vulnerable knowing it was seen and acknowledged.

It loved all these things and more, so when she left, it went with her.

My eyes looked at the world, looked at women in a way that they saw the same things as they’d always done.

But there was no juice, there was no fire.

There were moments of desire, not deep, more of my body wanting, and if they were offered I would have declined.

My eroticism wasn’t there.

It had left.

My intimacy wasn’t there.

It had left.

There were moments, brief moments of connection.

But there was no juice, there was no fire.

And in time I saw that I needed to bring my eroticism home, to me.

I needed to love it more than it loved anyone else.

I needed to honour it more than it found with anyone else.

I needed to nurture it, nourish it, express it more than anyone else could.

I needed to bring it back into my body, into my skin, into my eyes, into my ears, into my mouth, into my cock, into my breath, into my heart.

I needed to feel the juice and the fire.

I needed to bow before it and I needed to claim it as mine.

I needed to find it in the air and the sun on my skin.

I needed to find it in my dance.

I needed to find it in my touch.

I needed to find it in my words, in my laughter, in my tears, in my silence and stillness.

I needed to bring it into my heart.

I needed to feel it in my blood, throbbing in my veins, burning in my belly.

And slowly I bring my eroticism to life within me.

To love again, to love more, and more, and even more.

To travel deeper within myself, and further out into the world.

In this life of sacred eroticism.