“It is easier to resist at the beginning than at the end.” ~Leonardo DaVinci, The Notebooks

Neither time nor my heart, tarry ever; and as a result both move swift and slow.

Swift, because when I’m with you time escapes me as my eyes briefly dance over your soul. My heart races to keep pace with my breathing in order to find the ever elusive love in your heart.

Slow, because the passing moments are but ripples in the stream of seduction reaching across the surface as my lips swim over your skin. The old moon passes, the new moon wanes. This is how I endure each night without you.

Oh, but to be in your arms again!

When time slithered as I slid into you. Without reservation, swift and slow, into a spring of little hope and a fountain of unwavering affection. The night passed silently and I wished for it not to end, because as arduous as it was to resist you before, it has become most difficult to resist you again.

The halls of my heart echo with your cries of pleasure and pain, whilst your hearth intensified at the stoke of my penetrating fain. Overwhelmed by emotion, my heart and soul shattered in places I knew not existed, and I relinquished a piece of myself into you. Passion poured through my skin and dripped onto you, racing along the contours of your exquisite beauty, hiding in the shadows of your soul.

When dawn approached, diffused and shadowless, your body lingered over me like a gentle fog over a river. The mist of your essence beckoned me once more and I knew I had fallen in love as you collapsed onto me.

I cannot abide my senses to resist you, to resist perusing my passions at your request. I cannot so easily oblige this, my dear love, because it was easier to resist your wetness in the beginning than in the end, since I knew not how blissfully your raindrops tasted on my lips.

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