The young woman’s desire is a mysterious phenomenon – even to her.
A beautiful fantasy that exists only within her mind’s confines – thank God.
So overpowering that it shatters the illusive shield; allowing him to close in.
No need for disassociation; nothing to fear.
She spends a lot of time here, where the erotic thoughts live – more than anyone would admit.
Perhaps because it doesn’t call any form of giving – only receiving.
Total submission offers a bizarre sense of relief.
The outside world feels irrelevant; plagued with decisions that can wait.
And yet…
…tangible intimacy in the real world is always met with brutal self-rejection.
So, why not unravel in the dreamland of desire?
Why not surrender the obsession with perfection?
Why not let go?
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comfort; a paradox