Archive for January 12th, 2017
- In: Essays | social articles | women
- Leave a Comment
Women With Balls? Who Do Give a F*ck
This one is for you.
For the dream seekers and the rebels, the ones who not only don’t fit into the mold—they fucking break it as well.
This is for the women who do give a fuck.
We give a fuck about ourselves, our lives and those that matter most to us—but mostly we give a fuck about making a difference in this one amazing life.
We know that we weren’t born to play life small, and while life has tried to smack us down at times, we stand right back up asking—is that all you’ve got?
This is for the women with the balls to be themselves—unapologetically.
Yes, the balls.
Because having balls isn’t about what’s hanging between the legs of a man—but what we are willing to risk, to go after what we love.
This is for the women who stay up late chasing dreams, and are up early with the sun making them a reality.
This is for those women with thirsty hearts and messy hair—the ones who march to the beat of our hearts and often find ourselves alone because of our choices.
This one is for you, for me, and for all the women who often wonder if they are alone in their individuality.
You’re not.
And although we are as unique as they come, we all are linked because of the desire to break free from the expectation that we need to be well-behaved women in order to be loved.
We can’t follow the rules for the life of us.
When given the choice we always choose the most difficult road, because that is where we often learn the most.
This is for the women who take care of themselves.
We are masters at keeping our shit together, even when it seems we can’t take one more step.
This is for the women who tuck themselves into bed each night. It’s not because we don’t want a lover with us, but because we know that, unless it’s genuine, solitude is so much sweeter than putting on an act.
This is for the women who just won’t conform no matter how many times people shake their heads at us.
These are the women who drink moonshine underneath the stars with their bare feet dirty, and their eyes wild dreaming of their next adventure.
The women who prefer to be untamed. We don’t care about letting our crazy show because we know it’s just as seductive as the pull of our eyes.
This is for all the women who’ve had people ask why we can’t just be like everyone else.
Why can’t we stay in unhappy relationships?
Why can’t we just stay with the secure job?
Why can’t we just suck it up because we are adults? That is what adults are supposed to do.
But we were born differently. Where others see stability, we see stifling.
“We dream of a life that fills us with inspiration, and we dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for.”
~ Alice Hoffman
We don’t know how to give up on the desires of our hearts.
And while we may seem to wander aimlessly at times, it’s all part of our un-plan. Because some are just born to be the movers and shakers in this life—to rattle and shake things up a bit.
And while we may drive you crazy at times, and scare the shit out of you at others, life would be boring without us.
For we are the wild ones—the ones who make life worth living.
“And while we may seem to wander aimlessly at times, it’s all part of our un-plan.”
“You licked my scratches climbing…”
A man, a woman, a desire, some hope, and the detour along the way
Je me rappelle encore nos escapades sur les talus épineux. Tu me tendais la main et essuyais de ta langue mes égratignures..
.Nous nous juchions sur le tertre, la main dans la main, admirions le soleil se couler dans l’eau…
tu me regardais de tes yeux si bleus que je nageais de bonheur…
Goéland qui a survolé mon ciel. Assis sur le bord de l’eau, nous buvions du rouge à la rasade et faisions fondre du chocolat amer sur nos langues encore chastes quand tu te penchas pour lécher de tes papilles la goutte de vin qui trempa ma jambe…
moment sacré…nos bouches fondirent dans un tumulte agité de sens….J
e buvais l’eau claire de tes yeux….le rivage de tes lèvres où j’ancrais ma féminité….
tes mains câlines qui s’ immisçaient timidement dans mon corsage pour effleurer le bouton de mes roses fleuries par ton toucher…
j’aimais ton souffle effréné sur le lobe de mes oreilles…
Tes doigts embrasaient mon être si transi, pianotaient le grain de ma peau qui se hérissait sous les saccades du désir intense de nos deux corps enlacés…
tu me promis l’éternité de ta présence, tant que la mer côtoie le rivage, ton amour pour moi sera sans limites
Une silhouette s’érige dans la pénombre de nos caresses…une silhouette qui s’engouffre dans la grotte du rocher, moite par les passages saccadés du jusant, exultant de tes caresses rageuses la cavité féminine d’une déesse, d’une sirène sacrifiant son existence pour son bien –aimé.
Je fus la déesse de tes songes, le temps d’une escapade autour des îles lucifériennes de la jouissance ….
je fus ta déesse, cette femme que tu as tant voulu côtoyer des nuits entières…je fus ton songe, ta rêverie, ta lubie .
Soyeux moments exaltant nos deux corps fusionnés, moments édéniques d’un échange de sensations, sensations de deux corps entrelacés dans les aléas d’une vie, vidée de ses sens qui enflamment les nôtres.
Moments extatiques, partagés dans les draps froissés, façonnés par nos entrelacements, nos enlacements labyrinthiques
Un éclat de joie retentit, mêlé aux murmures d’amour.
Les draps blancs, pureté du moment, crissaient de bonheur sous les coups de bélier qui s’incurvaient dans les dédales de la voûte.
Des rires timides dévoilaient les actes qui se succédaient….
Un Homme…une Femme….un désir….une Espérance et puis un détour de chemin….
Histoire d’ELLE ( un roman inachevé ) …Éternel Féminin….
Adonis Diaries 