A Blind Quest For Love

Where to do I look. Where will I find her.

If only I could verify the texture of her skin, the sensation of thy lips. If only I could look into those eyes and obtain a synopsis of an unfiltered past. Yes that's right. I want to revisit the good, the bad and the ugly. I want to revisit the things that have so preciously sculpted her into one priceless piece. Sweetheart, whoever you may be, I want to assure you I'm no God of yours. So don't be shy. Judgment day will never come when speaking upon our potential.

 

If only I could master the rhythm of her walk, the movement of thy hips. Certainly then I would have the experience to escort this illusion by the hand during a journey that if meant to be, will some day become our own version of the Canterbury Tales. This feeling takes me back to the days of hiding seek and elementary innocence under the playground slides. Then, I had no idea admiration of a gender could sprout so wildly with no direction. Now as a man, ignorance wouldn't be a logical excuse to explain the reality of my growing thirst for her feminine pleasures.

 

Who is she? As of now that information isn't applicable. What good are the drenched goods of a woman’s inner thighs, also known as Vaginaca in my twisted society, if her heart has been surgically removed and placed into a little brick box? Not to mention her masked beauty. Sadly she will never again receive the opportunity to reveal that beauty due to self-inflicted cementation...I'm sure she had a reason to do such a thing to self.

 

Now she has no feeling, no identification. Under such circumstances how do I locate her? The search has transitioned from romantic to desperate. Slowly suffocating my sanity until it dies alone, just as I, if the table doesn't turn soon. Hypothetically if the table does rotate in a circular motion, only time will tell how long it will be before I end up where I started, without her. At this point I have a better chance of successfully wrapping my arms around the waist of darkness as we dance to the beat of the sun, or finding a beautiful angel that doesn't fly but bleeds naturally as she breathes the same air as I.

 

It amazes me how this task is formatted in such a way that the only option is no option, when the quantity of fish is overwhelming the sea. A woman taught me that a fish is a fish regardless of whether it swims or floats to shore, and love is love whether it’s bi-polar or picture perfect. Therefore I will continue to look on until I find a Queen that fits the mold of my imagination, despite the odds. And If I never return after stepping out in pursuit of my other half, it will be safe to say, I have fell victim to my own broken heart. Though it will be too late, then I will realize the little brick box operation is the smartest decision "woman-kind" could have ever made.

Reviews

[TheSweet]

Not entirely sure what to say, to be honest. It is good, I liked it, I felt it was a plight that many a person could relate to - however it sometimes seems like it's trying to be too wordy at times. Perhaps that's what you were going for and it's just me that is unsure - but I think the odd line came across 'purple prosey'. if you catch my meaning.

Generally though I thought it was pretty good and I've had that feeling before: where do you look? Hmmm. Thanks for sharing. :)