There's no emotion
Only passion in your cry
Love is the last thing on your mind
When you dance
With a stranger
-Bananarama, Dance With A Stranger
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lust: Intense or unrestrained sexual craving.
That's the only word to describe it, this hot, heady sensation, intertwined limbs and warm lips covering your own hungrily; demanding more.
The one that can control you, overcome you; the one that makes you weak and impotent under their power; the one that you're forbidden to in every way possible; the one that you know you want.
The one that will toss you aside like a broken toy when they've tired of you.
But that doesn't matter now, not in this ideal situation you find yourself in. There's only now, there's only flesh against flesh, clothing being tossed to the floor, soft kisses, gentle touches sending chills up and down your spine; the feeling of being loved, but you know you are not; this is not love, never was, never will be. There's only physical attraction behind all this, this impulsive, fiery, rapturous expression of...you don't know what it is, don't care.
Love: A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.
Love. You certainly know what love is, feel it infinitely, but for someone else, someone who will never love you back. Of course. You know what this is about. Both of you, you love someone else, someone who is untouchable, and you will never have their affections. So you're taking what you can get, even though it will never be enough.
You could love them, without a doubt. If given the chance, you could easily love this ethereal being who whispers your name in the late hours of the night. You could love them with a greater passion than you feel for the one you do love, greater than the world has ever known, or, sadly, will ever know, because this will never be about love.
You could love them, and maybe you do; but they will never, ever love you; they couldn't, really.
Empty: Lacking purpose or substance; meaningless.
Meaningless. Meaningless sex; an aggressive, wild merging of two aching bodies. Most would say such things would appeal to them. No strings attached, just a silent agreement to satisfy yourself and someone else.
If only you had known what was really involved in that.
It seems those feelings of intense physical attraction soon begin to turn into something more.
Passion: A powerful emotion, such as love, joy, hatred, anger.
Joy, hatred, and anger.
All of these course through you, engulfing your entire being.
Love.
Love will be the death of you.
Love will make you weak. You'll lose focus, and it will destroy you.
You have always forbidden yourself to feel love, but it just sneaks up on you when you don't see it coming, like a thief in the night.
Love is one thing that should stay buried, like so much else of you.
Friendship: The quality or condition of being friends.
You were barely friends when it happened, and chances are you'll be enemies tomorrow. But you're living in the moment, not thinking about what will happen when it's over, not wanting to accept it.
But it won't matter, no, because there will still be that one night of pure, unbridled passion, a warm body in your bed, allowing you to forget the horrors of your life, and the world around you, the world that stood still for two lonely people who found momentary consolation in each others' arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I've deliberately left out names and sexes. I wanted to leave this open to speculation, and see if anyone could guess who's it's supposed to be about.
And if you're super-nice, and e-mail me 10 times, and give me a cookie and a cup of coffee, I just might tell you.
Only passion in your cry
Love is the last thing on your mind
When you dance
With a stranger
-Bananarama, Dance With A Stranger
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lust: Intense or unrestrained sexual craving.
That's the only word to describe it, this hot, heady sensation, intertwined limbs and warm lips covering your own hungrily; demanding more.
The one that can control you, overcome you; the one that makes you weak and impotent under their power; the one that you're forbidden to in every way possible; the one that you know you want.
The one that will toss you aside like a broken toy when they've tired of you.
But that doesn't matter now, not in this ideal situation you find yourself in. There's only now, there's only flesh against flesh, clothing being tossed to the floor, soft kisses, gentle touches sending chills up and down your spine; the feeling of being loved, but you know you are not; this is not love, never was, never will be. There's only physical attraction behind all this, this impulsive, fiery, rapturous expression of...you don't know what it is, don't care.
Love: A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.
Love. You certainly know what love is, feel it infinitely, but for someone else, someone who will never love you back. Of course. You know what this is about. Both of you, you love someone else, someone who is untouchable, and you will never have their affections. So you're taking what you can get, even though it will never be enough.
You could love them, without a doubt. If given the chance, you could easily love this ethereal being who whispers your name in the late hours of the night. You could love them with a greater passion than you feel for the one you do love, greater than the world has ever known, or, sadly, will ever know, because this will never be about love.
You could love them, and maybe you do; but they will never, ever love you; they couldn't, really.
Empty: Lacking purpose or substance; meaningless.
Meaningless. Meaningless sex; an aggressive, wild merging of two aching bodies. Most would say such things would appeal to them. No strings attached, just a silent agreement to satisfy yourself and someone else.
If only you had known what was really involved in that.
It seems those feelings of intense physical attraction soon begin to turn into something more.
Passion: A powerful emotion, such as love, joy, hatred, anger.
Joy, hatred, and anger.
All of these course through you, engulfing your entire being.
Love.
Love will be the death of you.
Love will make you weak. You'll lose focus, and it will destroy you.
You have always forbidden yourself to feel love, but it just sneaks up on you when you don't see it coming, like a thief in the night.
Love is one thing that should stay buried, like so much else of you.
Friendship: The quality or condition of being friends.
You were barely friends when it happened, and chances are you'll be enemies tomorrow. But you're living in the moment, not thinking about what will happen when it's over, not wanting to accept it.
But it won't matter, no, because there will still be that one night of pure, unbridled passion, a warm body in your bed, allowing you to forget the horrors of your life, and the world around you, the world that stood still for two lonely people who found momentary consolation in each others' arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I've deliberately left out names and sexes. I wanted to leave this open to speculation, and see if anyone could guess who's it's supposed to be about.
And if you're super-nice, and e-mail me 10 times, and give me a cookie and a cup of coffee, I just might tell you.