Plink, plink
Fragment #21
“The first symptom of true love in a man is timidity, in a young woman, boldness.” ~Victor Hugo~
When first reading this quote, the mind quickly leaps to the budding of romance. Boy meets girl, heart beats skip, and thoughts of the other consume. I had little hesitation in thinking ‘true love of self.’
All the many ignored disconnects with my most private desires have simply widened incrementally through the years because sometimes admitting quiet aches out loud feels terrifying. Expectation is a passion killer.
I’ve wanted to ………. for so long. It’s been overtaking slowly and now it’s spilling out and making me shy and lose all my words yet somehow bolder in actions.
Finally admitting things is the grandest of love affairs. All the bold, powerful movements to defeat the longings grow still. Softer. Quieter. Armour is dropped, muscles relax and timidity seeps through almost invisibly. Temerity rises to gracefully rearrange my appearance and it postures the centre beam. Chin lifts and gaze holds forward with an audacious glint in the eye. Each smile now chimes with the resounding beat of a ferocious heart.
Desire drips consistently like blood on a stone. Plink. Plink. So soft and rhythmic that over time I’ve barely registered. Some days it might intrude, pushing forcefully against an imaginary boundary so I draw a sword and fight with myself. Over time, it carves a deep well. Splash. Splash. Suddenly, the container is at capacity and it has nowhere else to go. All the fears and expectations get washed away in a flood.
