It's odd how something can make you so happy that it isn't until it's gone that it inspires you. You become so blissfully blind, that nothing else means anything; but then once it's gone, it's everything.
It seems as though the only thing of importance and beauty is the subject of your desire. There is nothing that compares to it: No images, no sounds, no order of words, nothing that comes close.
Because there is nothing to portray love, it is the purest emotion. "Love" hardly means anything, it does not provide any relevant sensation. Yet the feeling it represents has overwhelming power.
Kissing, touching, sex: These things are all wanted because of what they represent. But not everyone truly understands it. Sometimes people lust for these things, but that is a fool's love; a fake emotion. People feel lust because they want what sex represents; for a moment, they believe they are in love.
But lust can only describe love as well as pictures or words. No: Love is so much bigger, there is beauty to be recognized that can only be felt from genuineness.
When genuine love is realized, it's representatives develop inherent beauty. It is to be observed and savored. It cannot be chewed, it simply happens. Love is self perpetuating, self creating. It cannot be stopped, analyzed, or imitated.
When your love is there, but you've nothing to spend it on, it still cannot be stopped. An outlet is needed. You can draw, you can write, you can sing, but you know it isn't what you want.
What you want is your lover. You need that person; they are the only thing that will quell you. The only thing you need. Your love target.
Man Practice
No one seems to get this one. So I guess I'll leave a little note:
The men are having an 'oh-so-manly' pissing contest. The man on the right practiced, and no longer has to go.
There you go.
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