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The Currency Of Lust, And Sublimated Love

Posted: January 31, 2020

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The constant friction of our bodies and mind produced the heat that the two melted at once, flowed off our bodies; white and fragrant. A wave of laughter with a hug, my eyes sparkled.



“How’s it going?”

“Not much. Lazy in bed.
How are you doing?”

“Reading my stuff. And browsing profiles. :p”

“Horny!! Huh? :D”

Yeah. Sorta.”

“Mind swapping nudes?”

[photo sent]
[photo sent]
[photo sent]

“Not my types.’

[profile blocked.]


Sometimes upset, the others baffled,
why do I forget the inherent nature of the app
we know by the name

A myriad of such small (and unapologetic) talks,
And my Grindr inbox is filled with unanswered “hi”
and “ago” and offline profiles,
there indeed are times
when I hosted them,
and travelled sometimes.

The exchange of consensuality
substantiates both the sides
connected through the app,
in fact,
materialises thoughts and feelings.
Call it “horny.”
Lust after!

Instantaneous changes in the
quantity of the excitement(s) upspring
substituted in the differential equation
of a (random) “hook up,”
the currency of lust
that gets exchanged
is kissing, embracing, biting,
sucking, licking, playing with the body,
and looking into the eyes,
and whispering in the ears,
inhaling the exhaled.
As if,
Vātsyāyana and Rasadevī
were chanting sacred aphorisms
from the Kāmasūtra,
guiding us through
a passionate walk.

The constant friction
of our bodies and mind
produced the heat
that they two melted at once,
flowed off our bodies;
white and fragrant.

Looking into my eyes,
one hand on my chest
and the other occupied
in the intertwining of fingers,
he verbalised his exaltations:
“you have an attractive body-
sensitive at the touch-
embellished with hair. Lots of.
No. You should not feel shy.
MUST join swimming.
And listen, just wear a speedo like this [he showed me his],
I will stare at you alone.”

A wave of laughter we share
with another tightest hug,
my eyes sparkled.
‘Twas the confidence
I lack.

From dressing myself
to undressing ourselves,
and dressing again,
our excitements transformed into
sexual intimacies in bed
that turned into (emotional) bonds at the door.
With a kiss on his forehead,
I offered him my Khādī shawl printed in Ajrakh.
I knew he loved it.
As a token of exchange,
he gave me his with the tribal embroidery
from Bengal. Red.
Putting his lips on mine,
he bade me a nice evening.

In the spontaneity of pleasure,
the affection eternity,
alike a bubble,
besides the obvious,
the “currencies” we exchanged
were: the faith in his words,
confidence in my eyes,
realisation of my being be in this body,
and the ‘shawls’ of our minds.
I wonder
if the difference between lust and love
leads to any answer about their quintessence.
Or how about
if some agency and/or energy
we call love
sublimates into what we perceive
as lust
through its currencies.

Call it whatever you think.

Picture credits: Pexels

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