|The love that is the purest and sweetest...|
August 25, 2001
...The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
Oh, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.
But I send you a cream-white rosebud,
With a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is the purest and sweetest
Has a kiss of desire on the lips.
-John Boyle O'Reilly-
Am I in a certain mood? Am I pining away for boquets delivered on silver trays? Tiny gifts of gentle wooing, scarely hiding the lust that hides behind the sweetness?
Lust blended with deep sweetness has always fascinated me strongly. If I sensed only lust in a boy or man, I shied away like a spooked horse. But, oh, if I felt that hint of sweetness peeking through...there goes my defences!
The most sinfully addictive of attentions has portions of wild, hot, tearing lust and soft, tender, sweetness. Plain ol' pounding, piston-thrust lust is only so much nature, pushing for coupling at any cost. Banal and boring after a terribly short while.
Just like the finest of addictive substances, love and lust and deep-piercing tenderness never let you down!