Two Virgos meet; an occurrence far from promiscuous.
As the ******. Sensual, but modest.
Like silver beauty that would never lose purity, no matter how potentially pleasing she may be.
Quiet,
but touch the right spot, and you’d never hear silence again.
We love shattering the alignment of the planets. Misconfiguring.
It was the one thing that made us clean. It brought me joy. It brought him joy. Exploding together with salty sweat and saliva. Like white constellations bursting at the end of lifetimes, heated by love and light. Becoming one another in hasty motions, fast and slow. Soft and hard. Wet and loud. Slapping, punching, biting, *******, licking, kissing, done.
Losing purity with each stroke, until we reach clarity once again.
So is it irony, or am I just too *****?
The stars make patterns that tell me I am to be slight in my attempts to fornicate. I will be admired for my beauty. My resilience to resist. Resist him, resist her, resist what those will force upon you.
Trust in the skies. The stars expect me to fight this urge. Remain a ******. Stay pure. Do not destroy your youth.
But when two virgos meet, the urge is unbearable. The resistance is no more. Slight eye contact is the way to the soul, the way to become one, to ******, and return.
A brief escape, but we always return.
In the eyes of two virgos is endless pain. I see his when he comes. In his wide eyes, open and forgiving. Vulnerability is what he needs and I see what he cannot hide. We two virgos come together as one. We cannot deny.
These two virgins have vanished and will never be again.
We are two gorgeous arrangements of light reminded to be less.