My lust has never left me, I do not know if it can ever go, permanently. Lust is like this pure flame on a newly lit matchstick. In our human condition, it burns everlastingly. It catches upon the nearest flammable desire that passes its silent but heated vicinity – and lights it up to a big blazing orgasmic fire. A dangerous mixture of hormones, exasperating, screaming – in a chaotic storm of triggered emotions. A simple desire in its final stages takes this invincible form, lasting a good half of a minute to the exclusion of everything else in consciousness, and then the ballooned form bursts into tatters and deflates, subsequently expiring from all strength.
The innocent flame of lust, I call it.
It truly is.