Lust and Love

It's a funny thing, the connection between romantic love and lust. How some can lust without love, and others can love without lust. But, for most of us, the two are intertwined, inexplicably linked, no doubt by some sort of biological imperative. Some sort of reproductive advantage, an in-built need to form a family to more easily support any resulting children. A force so powerful, it exists well before the time we're ready to actually reproduce, and continues on well beyond it.

A quick stroll through my letters shows pretty plainly that I lust after you. My loins burn for you like a wildfire tearing through brush that hasn't seen rain in years. I've found myself physically shaking from desire, just after having seen you smile at me from your car. It would take a very, very long time to work through all of the fantasies I've had about you… a lifetime, really. And I'm having new ones all the time.

The sexiest eyes I have ever, ever seen…

But, that lust is an extension of this ridiculous love I have for you. And every time we interact… It's a tossup which part of me will overfill, my heart, or…

Sometimes… often… it's both.

I know I'll be seeing you tonight. I anticipated being nervous, worried. I know we won't touch, I don't even know if we'll get to talk. And, sure… the nerves are there, but, to my surprise, as the time approaches…

I find my body preparing, my thoughts overtaken… images of you, my god your hips… wondering what you'll be wearing, how you'll be showing yourself off this time… to my benefit? Or just because you can? And does it even matter?

You're going to be turning me on, whether you're trying to or not. Jeans and a blouse? I'll be dreaming of you all night. Short skirt and a sweater? Not sure if I'll survive it. Fuck, man. Sweatpants and a t-shirt? I'll have to lock myself in my room for days.

Lust and love, love and lust, indeed.

My god, do I love you.