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9:21 p.m. - 2001-04-23
sensual (another non-poetry, I'll be writing normally again 'til I get the book back, at least...) enjoy my ramblings)
I've been trying to explain the concept of sensuality to someone over AIM, and am failing miserably. Explaining the lack of it, I think, was the difficult part. How do you explain a black hole in black space? I'm not a scientist. Inversely, how do you explain the absence of a black hole in black space? All I can think of is an arched pale neck, and the vulnerability of it, curved away, exposed, and a hand that can still touch it like it should have been carved from blown glass. I'm thinking inky dark, senses reduced to touch and smell, a closely held cotton shirt and the smell of dusty roses.... I've been in a cocoon of arms in my mind, lifted out and heavy on the ground, lingering over into tingling hands long after the effect. I'm thinking half overlapped in wet grass, I'm thinking brush of eyelashes.

And I'm wondering how I should say this to a man who's most likely never used the word 'sensual' in his life. I never tried to portray 'sexual' and 'sensual' as being the same thing. I've always seen them separately. Sexuality is easy to have; it's a matter of pushing the right buttons, so to speak. Sensuality, I couldn't.... you can't just take someone to a field and wait for a bed of roses to slide under your bare toes and have the tall grass dew over and splash up when you fall. You can't touch cotton and wait for it to catch afire, you cannot be held without another willing to hold, and not so much willing as desiring, pure unadulterated desire. Throw logic away, let the wind catch it, combust into energy. Levitate the sky.

That's sensuality. Combine the two, sexual and sensual, and you have reality in the palm of your hand to twist and distort as you please. The height of interpersonal and intrapersonal interaction as one, the only time it comes. When it comes. I wouldn't know how to put it, not to anyone who's never considered beauty as having a texture.

 

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