The Picture
What's in a picture? Well, in I cherish there is more joy and
peace and love than any mere mortal like me should ever know.
I am speaking of is the imperfect image of the one I love. She is one of
such exceedingly great beauty that it cannot be captured on anything by
Man's hand, but to me it represents her, and that is as near to heaven as I
am likely to get.
But the picture, besides being an imperfect symbol of utter perfection, is
exceedingly cloudy. The incidental fact that this exquisite creature of
God does not love me, but another, sheds blazing insight into my dilemma -
loving one who does not love you back - an age-old poignant story.
This is what happens to one who falls ...
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reality. And as your Love and her
lover scale those endless heights, sadly, you, with tear-misted eyes are
left far below, alone, with that wilted imperfect image clutched in your
hands.
The one I love has always, well, I suppose the term is "humored" me. I
have nothing to offer her that would mean anything to her, except my love,
an exceeding cheap commodity to those receiving it; and inhumanly expensive
to those giving it. But she has been free with her gifts, too. She gave
me her picture, my greatest material treasure; she has given me a few brief
moments of platonic joy in her company; and she has given me an
irreplaceable gift, the love inside of me, something more grand and awe-
inspiring than the great outdoors.
But today, a day in which her nearness is inaccessible to me, another gift,
in absentia, was given to me. You must follow me and understand that those
moments away from my Love are like daggers piercing my heart. The depths
of my emotional depression are ...
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throbbing
before him in all its prideful, yet stately, grandeur. He strode up to you
and enfolded you in his strong arms, his rod preventing him from full-body
contact. He planted a moist kiss full on your luscious lips forcing open
you faintly resisting mouth with his tongue. Just as his one-minded penis
would soon search endlessly your warm cavern of love, his tongue searched
your yearning mouth to be more a part of you, striving to be one. As he
paused for a well-needed breath he looked over at me and he, too, beamed
with a satisfied smile, "Eat your heart out, Jim." His hands were
everywhere on you, fondling your firm passionate bottom, pulling it close
to him determinedly ...
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The Picture. (2007, February 26). Retrieved November 30, 2024, from http://www.essayworld.com/essays/The-Picture/60912
"The Picture." Essayworld.com. Essayworld.com, 26 Feb. 2007. Web. 30 Nov. 2024. <http://www.essayworld.com/essays/The-Picture/60912>
"The Picture." Essayworld.com. February 26, 2007. Accessed November 30, 2024. http://www.essayworld.com/essays/The-Picture/60912.
"The Picture." Essayworld.com. February 26, 2007. Accessed November 30, 2024. http://www.essayworld.com/essays/The-Picture/60912.
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