Eventide Love – Desire – a dangerous blaze within her soul.

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What is the measure of lost love? In between those two words – lost love is how all this happened. Another story: desire.

While I can’t have you, I long for you. I miss flights to meet you for coffee. I take a taxi across town to see you for 10 minutes. I walk through snow and ice at night for you to open your door to me. You call me and say “Will you…” my answer is “Yes,” before your sentence is out. I spin my life so we can be together. Nothing feels more like life than this desire; it’s the surge in the blood, cocaine-highs without the white powder, the shamanistic, trance-like, ecstatic.

Desiring you allows me to feel intensely, conjures me into a conversation with my soul. My body, mind, effort, absorbed in you. The fragmented state of ordinary life, at last, becomes coherent. No longer scattered through time and space, I am collected in one place, and that place is you.

It is addictive. Like all powerful substances, desire needs careful handling, and this is where it all went wrong. Rolling with the addiction, something explosive is happening, blowing up our entire world, detonating a secret chamber in the heart. One thing I know for sure my life has changed; life has become titanic, exotically illuminated. And then our lives blew up.

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