The art of war
We often mask true commitment in archaic notions of sex and sexuality.
We sit in judgment of those who rest outside of the confines of societal constructions of monogamy, all the while ignoring the husbands, wives, and lovers starved of attention in traditional pairings—those who play house like dolls with vapid interactions.
They give their bodies but hide their souls. Rationing joy, withholding common courtesies—warm smiles, small compliments, a listening ear.
Herein lies the deceit...
The measure of my love is not in the span of my hips. My folds do not confer fidelity. And you, you my love, are not a commodity to be manipulated in an effort to garner attention, love, and affection. I do not wish to control you. I do not want to own you or your safe spaces. I do not need to possess you to love you.
Just spare me your warmth, your kindness—the stroke of your hand for a while. And allow me this—the freedom to travel the far away places of your mind, of your heart. I promise to do the same in return.
We sit in judgment of those who rest outside of the confines of societal constructions of monogamy, all the while ignoring the husbands, wives, and lovers starved of attention in traditional pairings—those who play house like dolls with vapid interactions.
They give their bodies but hide their souls. Rationing joy, withholding common courtesies—warm smiles, small compliments, a listening ear.
Herein lies the deceit...
The measure of my love is not in the span of my hips. My folds do not confer fidelity. And you, you my love, are not a commodity to be manipulated in an effort to garner attention, love, and affection. I do not wish to control you. I do not want to own you or your safe spaces. I do not need to possess you to love you.
Just spare me your warmth, your kindness—the stroke of your hand for a while. And allow me this—the freedom to travel the far away places of your mind, of your heart. I promise to do the same in return.
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