Love. Passion. Sex.
Once upon a time I believed that each could survive singularly, that each held enough emotion within to satisfy the craving. There could be sex without passion or love without sex, but it is the combination of the three that brings to the surface the primordial rules that we live by.
It’s never been easy for me to turn my emotions outward, to allow people to touch my inner most thoughts or to allow rhapsodic responses to corporal liaisons. I’ve always kept pieces of myself inaccessible, locked away so deeply that even I have trouble retrieving them.
In the last several months I have learned things about me that I had always taken for granted I already knew. I enjoy simple and tranquil. I enjoy the security of knowing that when I wake up in the morning, he won’t be far away and though I may not see him, he’s close.
There has never been a harsh word between us, no unspoken anger or even a disagreement. That’s not to say I do not hold my own opinions, but thus far, our opinions have converged into a single acceptance.
He doesn’t love me with an explosive passion, but he does love me.
Differently.
I understand, because I love him differently too.
No comments:
Post a Comment