Just remember the desire

The train you take that night from Milan to home, even if outside is dark and you cannot distinguish a thing but only your own shadow reflected on the window, nothing is more poetic than the thought of a new-born romantic feeling experienced for someone. Perhaps the most romantic person that Sunday evening is you as what nourishes that melancholic yet beautiful feeling is your courage facing the uncertainty. What is the most admirable is that you do not have any fear. You are not scared of getting burned. You embrace the day spent together with him, with joy and grace and no fear. No plan. All you have is desire. Your desire. This irrational “thing” that people usually want to figure out very quickly as soon as they “feel” something for someone.

Your desire for him is the only constant variable since the day you first met him. The desire that functions like a huge machine, that works for itself, that feeds and gives energy to the rest.

You assume your desire. You never need to justify your desire or to kill it with moral or social boundaries. You do not want to be sad. To kill your desire is to be sad. The kind of sadness that usually impedes people to live fully their emotions.

You just want to live your desire for him. During this long train trip, you see your shadow on the window but also your desire. Its outlines are sharp. You see the day spent with him like a movie, with scenes after scenes of desires. A movie in which there are not necessarily any images of him and you. Only the vivid memory, and the perfume of the desire transformed when possible in kisses and sensual touches. The kisses have the perfume of what you both love most, the white truffle.

You live your desire in Milan endlessly. That is an unique experience. Something you will always remember. What should come after does not matter. How you both go back to your lives and how you both live apart will not matter. Just remember the desire.

And you bring back the love

Silent night

No sound but the sounds

Of rays of love

You seem so close

You are not here

My love goes on and on

Looking for you

Catching you

It still wants to talk to you

To share with you

Its stories and secrets

My love goes on and on

Knocking at your door

It still wants you

So far away

Will you come one day?

Bringing along my love with you

With all the tales you had heard

One silent night

Giving back to me

All these rays of love

You had once received and cherished

But hesitated all the way long to keep.

I just want to feel

Yesterday late at night I discovered Eckhart Tolle in an interview about love. “Love is an ego strategy to avoid surrender. You are looking to someone to give you that which can only come to you in the state of surrender. …The Spanish language is the most honest in this respect. It uses the same verb “Te quiero”,  for “I love you” and “I want you”. To the ego, loving and wanting are the same, whereas true love has no wanting in it, no desire to possess or for your partner to change”. 

Then I remember the famous quote of Jenny Holzer “Protect me from what I want”.

So far I can agree with E. Tolle.

When I love, I don’t want to possess. I don’t want to change the other person. I don’t want him to complete me. I am me and he is him. I look at him. He is great. And that’s it. Only the present moment. The love, him and me. Not more complicated than that. My love is not blind. It lasts when it has to last. When it has to last, I let myself go, I let him go. I don’t want to protect myself. I do get attached because it is a wonderful feeling. I set myself free to love. I don’t think when it happens, when it hits me. I rarely love. So when it happens it is a beautiful state of mind. I am not scared. I am a bit scared before it happens. But then I surrender. Because it is great. Until it hurts or not. But pain also comes and goes. It is like an “all-inclusive” package with love. Luckily it comes but also disappears at some point. Sometimes it stays longer, sometimes it disappears quickly.

When I love, I just feel it. I walk with it. I live love when I feel love. And I accept it.

The interview of E. Tolle gets complicated at the end and needs some more reflections for me to fully agree with him. I will get there with more time.

The only thing matters to me is TO FEEL.

I just don’t want to live like a robot.

I get attached.

I love.

I feel.

Now we are four when we are together

Where is the line between love and friendship for two people of opposite sexe?

A very thin line. Or none I think.

Love and friendship have many facets with multiple shades and colors. Feelings in-betweens interweaved. Difficult to draw a sharp line and distinguish which is which sometimes. Love for a lover is strong, love for a friend could also be. Maybe it’s the expectation which makes the difference. We expect less from a friend to love us back with the same ardor. Maybe.

I am writing about this because I truly don’t know if I am not a little bit in love with my dearest friend. It’s a kind of feeling so close to love which makes me think that it should be love somehow. Even more than love. There is an immense affection and tenderness when I think of him. But the difference is I never try to oppress these feelings. I am proud to feel them. And I have never felt frustrated. While with a lover, I am more scared, I withhold the love feeling, I try to escape. Things are less spontaneous, more calculated. I hate being overwhelmed by my love. But with a close friend, when you really love him, the sentiment seems to set you free. A friend is more indulgent to your affection, I think and it eases things. And maybe and I said “maybe”, you don’t miss a friend as much as a lover/boyfriend. You don’t long for your closest friend. You are not obsessed about him.

Last week was a difficult week. Getting up was an effort. Then I realized that I just needed some doses of him to feel better. His presence, his witty spirit and friendship should be a remedy for my sadness. He is officially my only joy at this moment and the only one who could boost me up. So yesterday morning I asked him to see me.

He came by the same evening. He did not ring but used the spare keys I had given him.  I already liked this feeling. He opened the door, said hi. I was in the living room, reading a newspaper. Nice opening scene.

As usual he started to play piano. Extracts of the piano concerto no. 20 of Mozart. He sang, imitating an opera singer and looked at me while playing. I was a bit speechless. I have seen him playing piano and singing a lot of times at my place, still each time when it happens, I am always a bit dizzy with happiness. He plays not only well, he plays with his soul even if it was just for a few minutes. My heart was musical and my heartbeat tried not to skip any notes. This moment was already the very beginning of what I define as love. I could be wrong. But I worship this wonderful feeling. Right there friendship and love are mixed, together with the piano sound.

He said that he did not appreciate HIS character in my blog. Because the guy in my imagination is much better and nicer than him. This “romanticized” character is so idealized that he is afraid to not being able to measure up to his idyllic image, the one I deliberately invented. He said he did not want to disappoint me, and the way I embellished him showed him that definitely I was not enough satisfied with him in real life (damn cute!). And that it can be annoying a so perfect character. He said that it would not help me either having made up this kind of hero because I would have a hard time to find a real man in life. “HE” in the blog would not pop out of it to be with me for real (cute again! who cares anyway, in real life, I have him…).

I let him talk. I think he is much better than his fictional clone because he is REAL. I know that I did not beautify or aggrandize him. He is just like that. Brainy, scintillating. But I did not want to explain everything to him. I just told him: “Hey, leave him alone, leave YOUR character alone, he is perfect. I forbid you to criticize him.”

He said now it is all crowded when we are together, with so many ideas and thoughts and because we were four in the room. He and his ideas on his character in the blog. He and his ideas about himself in real life (he repeated a lot of times that he did not like the way he is. He did not like being different already at the age of 14), me and his character, and then me and my ideas about him. It was always a great moment to see him talking like that. Did I once tell you that he is complicated ???

When he left, I thought: “Love or friendship ?”  Both for sure. Definitely love, the purest kind, the innocent one. But with moments of desires if I want to be honest. I think somehow I would succumb this physical limit and desires if he once tried to push me in that direction. I would not be able to say no. It could be so confused sometimes. I miss him. I do not long for him. I am not thinking of him all the times. Sometimes I think of him with sexual phantasms. Most of the times, it is just platonic. But what is important is that whatever I do or think, I can always share with him. And he is never scared of me and my nuts feelings.

He seems so perfect, right ? But he is not, his unique biggest and unforgivable flaw: he is 21.(sigh!)

Ultimate surrender

What would be more erotic than a platonic moment taken to extremes?

They are there.

Legs and arms crossed

A reasonable distance.

Silence of their mouths.

Imperceptible sounds in their eyes.

No touching.

No smiling.

No laughing

“Don’t move”.

Frozen time.

They push their desires

to an extreme monastic situation.

Hardly they breathe.

When would she succumb?

When would he surrender?

Explosive latent tension.

“What would be your solution for us?”

He asks.

She stays in silence.

One last deep look from him.

He now closes his eyes.

Only an angelic face remains.

He stays immobile.

Checkmate for her.

She leans forward

Posing a kiss on his blond curl

Another one on his forehead

Then slowly gets down to his lips.

His eyes still closed

He catches her between his legs.

She gives up

Like a trapped animal.

Not a wounded one.

A domesticated one.