My body seems to vibrate with an undescribable kind of delicious energy. Where we touch and rub is like pouring molten chocolate over every taste bud I have. It’s a bath of excitement. I feel like I have tastebuds all over my body, and my partner is my favorite meal on my birthday. I get wholly absorbed by her—her every sound and movement and touch wires into my pleasure nerves like some indescribable magic potion.
When it is really good, I can’t tell where I end and she begins. It’s as if somehow we have become one person, not just through our physical connection, but through our souls, vibrating in perfect synchrony. If making music was like making love, people would be unable to stop listening to this symphony.
It is, for me, the perfect experience. It happens rarely, so I look forward to it and it becomes even more savory as time passes without it happening again. It is a place where I stop feeling alone and not only am I just inside my parter, as she is inside me, but I am somehow unaware of any separation from anything else in the universe. It is as if we are all together in this. It is really quite extraordinary.
Sometimes I wish it were the only thing I ever did, but I guess it might lose its appeal if that is all I did. Perhaps it happens so rarely in order to keep it being something I can appreciate so much. But the love I feel when making love is impossible to describe. It is outside of me. It is like I am no longer relevant. The world is on fire with magic.
So yeah. That was pretty lame. But I tried. I’m sorry, but it is way too magic to even get close to with words. Everything sounds so trite when you talk about it. I really don’t know if it is even worth trying. It probably leads people more astray than towards it. But you asked. I really wish I knew how to describe it. A poem about love that really captured love would probably be worth all the gold in Fort Knox.