By Tony DeLorger © 2011
Tender moments experienced in the zenith of emotionality,
haunt my adult life like a mistress of lost fortune.
Each blissful second of unbridled passion, lilting,
as the siren’s call, a melody engraved in my mind.
As the physical empowerment of lust,
these memories twist my longing into desperate attempts,
a search for the recalling of surrender, the illusion of love.
I beg to embrace this vacant, elusory feeling,
the pleasure of physical ecstasy lost in youth.
How can I reinvent myself, remove the shackles of experience
and become naive, with a clean and limitless expectation.
How do I reclaim my youthful commitment to a licentious life,
a life of intense physicality and sensual abandon.
Tender those hands that pleaded with flesh to razor-edge awareness,
that drew my soul from my body and drowned me in pleasure.
That soft supple flesh that embraced my all and slithered,
wet and hot to break my will and flood me with ecstasy.
Like a slave I moved with every enticement, every seduction,
lost in gratification, at the will of my rampant imagination.
Surrendering to the most addictive of vices, the abandonment of sense,
quivering under the soft wet persuader of seduction.
But lust is now buried deep, in what I used to be, what I was in youth.
I am no longer slave, no longer the slayer,
just a man whose dreams are but the memories of past.
Now I embrace love, and the power of age.
I now seek meaning, not surrender,
and the elusive manner of truth.
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