Stability feels like silence, calm, solitude. It feels like a shallow pool of peace, without a ripple of intense feeling an ocean of longing and belonging to an energy separate from my own and a celestial power. A tailored counterpart. This gift, this presence, entity, compels [passion], fused with a sort of grace that dances with the devil. A sort of storm that washes away and brings in a swell of emotion, a sort of temper of sentiments that leave you in ruin and a state of nirvana, drenching you and scorching you simultaneously. By conscious decision.
Stability is that gentle touch like a brisk wind off the shoulder, through your hair amidst your stride, not always seeked out but pleasant to have around. …However stability isn’t that sweet scented grip to the soul, your heart your mind, your throat, white knuckling, clutching and sucking every breath of your spirit, so vulgar yet savored. Lord!! Passion is the sweetest yet most vile concoction to consume, dancing on the palette, tastes of an amalgamation of purity and ceremonial sweet nectar. Emulsion of joy and sorrow.
The depths of passion, sweet, sweet, sweet hurricane of copious degrees of pain, lust, desire, warmth, kindness and malice, devour me, us and our psyches, destabilize whatever filters and barriers may protect(misguide) these hearts. Disassemble the foundations built on pain, incinerate mistrust, fuel it, it being the welcoming of light and love, vulnerabilities exposed, secrets told, so no lies lather the lips we kiss, no lies layer the touches we miss. Bathe me, decorate me, heal me, bask me with your waves, tsunami strength, rays to immense to repent. Soothe and unravel.
Stability is sitting, unmoved or shaken at times, to secure to beckon vigilance to vigor , birthing complacency. Ask why I crave a thrill of such potent extraordinary contradictions, the proof is in the poetry. I want to pleasure all conditions of your constitution, unbothered and tethered to you in an eye of a storm, ruin one another, yet create and excavate a sleeping tranquility in each other’s garden of energies. Whisper sweet songs to me, of a touch of tenderness that stills every essence of the core. Bring apart and cause global shifts at the fabrics of my center, with your wail of displease or somber song of silence, both torturess to my ears. Destroy and recreate me with your aura, kiss, presence, sight, quintessential existence. We are not fighting. We are not fighting we are trying to devour each other.
Author : Audrey T. Nyamucherera