Tag: self-discovery

Planted

“I lay in the soil, planted. Pine needles pricked

and forest sediment

imprinted with me.

Leaves and sticks in my hair.

I loved pulling them out later in the mirror. My grin and shining secret eyes. The best intimacy I’ve ever experienced came from my own exploring nature in nature,” I confess to him, interpreting myself in the process.

“Where there is wood, your heart follows,” Loki teases.

“Where there is freedom to just be.”

“I’m that freedom to you?” he asks.

“Yes. You disrupt chains, and I feel free in that space where no one else wants to be. Most people don’t want to be naked in the woods. They fear getting caught or the practicality of it. You catch me, you make the impractical bits the fun part.”

“I’m the fun? I love that.” He smiles with me.

“You are the fun inviting me to be the fun too.”

Remaking Intimacy

“My introduction to my own sensuality was the Kama Sutra. I soaked up the rituals of relationship and mating,” I tell Loki as we walk through my memory together.

“There was one section about making a sort of love sachet from scented wax and flower petals, and another about the male growing specific nails longer to pinch half-moon marks on his beloved. I thought that was the most romantic thing I’d ever consumed. I immediately pinched half-moons on my hand, as described in the text. It was a ritual for lovers separated by distance, and I used it to close the distance between myself and my own sensuality.”

I realize this under Loki’s supervision.

Together, we watch my younger self enact the ritual.

“A lot of sensation in that canonical text,” Loki acknowledges.

“Yes. The sensations to be had were gorgeously detailed.

I chewed mint leaves to discover the moment right before kissing for myself.

I remade intimacy then, creating a different experience of it than I’d previously known.”

I watch her with him as she picks up the pieces of heartbreak, one instruction at a time.

“Magic comes from the self.” His words wrap me in new confidence.

The Trouble Is the Best Part

I pull my dress skirt, dragging the hem through the dust of the unfinished house where he and I meet.

“I love how you dress easily naked.” Loki teases and toys with the laces of my corset that I left untied. I blush from his notice and attention.

“I don’t want sex. I want everything else. The undress, the mess, the romance, the sky overhead and inside me, the universe. I want my pale face shadowed and my lips swollen. The act of mating itself is pointless to me without the dance that surrounds it. Orgasming is a reaction, not a result. I hate the pettiness of looking towards results only.”

“You want to tip overflowing. Not to be emptied, but enjoyed. And why is this troubling to you?” he asks, tender mischief in his voice.

“It’s not. It is. It’s fucked up because it’s not the game or the sport. It’s the realness. Like when you sip your coffee, and I watch the devil detailed across your lips, and my heart can’t take it. Beautifully mundane and intricate.”

“You’re a poet, darling. That’s all. Nothing shameful in that.” His eyes flash.

“Yes, but there is, because the frustration is unnecessary and toilsome and also possibly immature of me to hold so much desire and not have an end plan.”

“You love the ordeal and appreciate confluences.”

“Yes. And the ordeal of just life, too. It is quite the ordeal, and I find it very attractive, hot and sensuous, like sizzling steak crusted in herbs. Why go through the trouble? Because the trouble is the best part.”

Loki makes the slightest hm sound of pleasure, and so do I.

“I love exploring my psychology with you.”

“I know, sweet girl. I love that you do.”

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