Lust. What a primal word, one that encompasses one of the base drives of humanity. It is one which has contributed to our numerical superiority over most species. It is induced by hormones and other stimuli. It is innate, it is natural, and so on, the books claim.
Lust. In text, it feebly smolders. In a casual voice, it sounds cute. In a drawl, it sounds inviting. In a long, low voice, it sends shivers down my spine and somewhere further down. In a high pitched voice, it becomes grating on the ears, but that is beside the point.
Lust. The word is so simple, and yet, so powerful. In the angst of perceived loneliness, it can create vivid visions of nostalgia. In the arms of a partner, it sparks, uhm, creative ideas, so to speak. In a sense, it can make you blind but the problem is whether you can see again.
Lust. Whenever I meet some people I'd rather not mention, I look them in the eye or simply ignore them. When they look away, I find my eyes inadvertently drawn to their lips, necks and other places not safe to mention. Those who interact with me in the real world may find themselves too conscious. Don't worry, I'm not yet too rabid to jump on any of you, at the present.
Your breath: a volatile, burning touch,
is one, each night, I yearn too much.
Should I give in to what I desire?
Or bore myself and quench that fire?
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