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MORNING STAR AND THE MOON
I woke in the darkest hours of the night, when God's favorite angel chased the moon.
For I, too, pursued my goddess when half the world slept and the other half wished it did.
The woman beside me remained asleep, curled like a snail in its shell with her back to me. This was a new experience. Sharing my bed with a stranger.
Not a stranger in the sense that she was an erotic bride chosen at random, but rather because she was someone I only knew at the surface. That is to say I knew her the way an alcoholic knows sobriety, as opposed to the way a sailor gazes upon the sea.
This is important to remember, I believe, because to chose a woman for her smile and her charms isn't the same as choosing her for her fears and her wrath.
The latter is to know more than who she is. It's to understand what she endured to become what drives one mad with love. Whereas the former is to make love without love. An ignorance in the arts of seduction that proves detrimental to the heights of passion and the depths of desire.
Whatever is lost in those stolen moments is not intended to be found. And the only thing we truly discover is the improbable pleasure that comes with being half-naked in the dark so we don't have to face the regret of missing out on what could have been.
That night, I contemplated the body beside me.
Perfect, as all women are, in the way God intended.
Her soft shoulders. The loose strands of her wavy hair sprawled like black ink on the pillow. Her skin glowed against the moonlight. I scrutinized her inch by inch.
I touched her gently the way one caresses a harp without wanting to make a sound.
She turned toward me with a groan and enveloped me in her embrace.
Her warm skin and tender breasts warmed my flesh.
I surrendered to the unexpected temptation to separate her thighs with my knee.
She resisted, at first.
Then she inched closer.
I took hold of her thigh and pulled it over my hip.
The scent of her perfume lingered. Intoxicated, I inhaled deeply to let it fill my lungs.
She shifted closer still.
My heart pounded against my chest.
Her fingers traced invisible lines along my back.
This time I inched closer.
Her heat ignited my fire.
I know the surface, (I said to myself) but I don't know her depths well enough to delve into deeper waters.
She felt my presence and inched closer still.
We kissed where our secrets hide.
Desire is poison! (I reminded myself)
I dug my nails into her thighs. Her soft, sweet, thick thighs.
She reached down between us.
I knew her grasp despite never holding her hand.
She beckoned me.
I tried to resist.
The conundrum is, the Morning Star could not resist chasing the Moon. Especially in the darkest hour before dawn.
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