Enchanted

She said, “me encantas”. Translated, this means, “you enchant me”.

I’m not sure what turns me on more: love or lust.

I love lust. But I also lust love.

And when a girl that says I enchant her, the heat that rises from my core is a whirling dervish of the most intoxicating emotions: love and lust.  Couple that with who this girl is, and the fact that she sings like a haunted angel on stage; and for many hours now I have paralyzed myself by immersion. Of swimming in the thoughts of her: her black dresses, her dark eyes, her piercing words, her sense of song, seduction and the way that she flirts with me.

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There is an art to flirting.

While I am not the most adept in this art, I am a connoisseur of this aptitude. I know the vehicles for flirting: touch and sight being the two most dominant. However it is words that tickle and torture my soul.

“Me encantas” is like water in that it swirls over into the realm of seduction.

Because when I picture the girl saying the words, “me encantas”, I picture her in Peru, overlooking the sea. She is, afterall, one of the ten things I know about Peru. About the great poet, Pablo Neruda.

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In the same vein of the question of: is life a dream? I do not know if I am an idea or a person.

So when this dark soulstress tells me, “te quiero”, I am not sure if it’s me that she wants – or the idea of the power behind her words. Behind my words. Behind who I am and who she is – behind her piano, or not.

I am not sure if she is flirting with me, or seducing me.  In one, you do not reach a linguistic end.  You do not become, “flirted”.  But you do become “seduced”.

On my empty pillow at the end of the night, for a near eternity now and I have been unendingly enchanted by this dark girl. Since we first met under the stars on a dark night.  She has twisted my hunger for love as much as she touched my thirst to be lustful for her.

Maybe the mystery is the inquiry.  Maybe it’s end of all of this.  Maybe it’s the unknown. Like her black dresses that sail behind her. Or the way that her hair hides her blackened eyes. Or the way her breathy words haunt me as though I want her more than I can understand.

If even confused: Consider me seduced. Enchanted. Wanted.

Blessed.

~ by The Provocateur on May 8, 2008.

2 Responses to “Enchanted”

  1. i came via Elizavetta’s blog … sent to read “Animal.” But this, ah this …

    Really quite nice.

    elise

  2. Lovely, seducing thought and body.

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