‘There is something at work in my soul,

Which I do not understand.’

Mary Shelley

Have you ever loved a man whose very existence waged war against your soul?

Did his merest breath upon your neck challenge you to live and breathe and think without him seeping into your veins and pulsing through your body with every beat of your heart?

This was a challenge I faced and It was a challenge I lost, and gladly so. I was moved in ways I could not have dreamed of as he showed me the world with eyes anew and in knowing him I saw wondrous things and a passion began to burn within me that I knew would never cease.

Every facet of my being was fascinated by him.

My body, my mind, my heart, my soul. They all took a deep breath when he was close by and when he touched them, separately and collectively I felt as if a thousand butterflies had taken flight within me.

When his naked body pressed against mine though? I can’t deny that the butterflies turned into dragons that breathed fire inside me as we kissed and touched and fucked our way into an oblivion that we had no desire to recover from.

Even when he was absent from me my body thrummed with the knowledge that he existed still and when I lay down alone, legs parted, fingers dipping into the wet heat he left between my thighs, his name was the only name that ever fell from my lips.

When he returned to me,

I was undone,

every time and always,

from the first moment …

… until the last.

‘I have drunken deep of joy,

And I will taste no other wine tonight.’

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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