How I Once Loved You: Unbearably

How my legs shook as I presented the ring: as if I had just had a car accident.

That night I took you in the graveyard: allowing them voyeuristic joy, both the dead and the ants; the latter loving your flesh as much as I did.

How proud I was that you were you: accepting and passionate.
Our bodies fit together as if we were born for one another.
Born to express our passion, exhaust our bodies, never our lust,
which was all consuming and for so long

You remember the kitchen? How you were rivited to our reflection in the window behind me. From counter to den, the rug would have marked us, our movements so passionate.
In the bedroom we finally exhausted ourselves.

How we were filled with wonder at the possibility of ruling the world from our own corner; we played with Hodges. You painted, worked the pottery wheel, I wrote. The only noises the click of the kiln, the rustle of silver leaves, and the cries of our exigency.

How safe I felt with you: safe because you would not judge me.

How we worshiped one another: like Orpheus I would have traveled to the world of the shades to rescue you from the Pluto of your unconscious torment. My Eurydice, you would have avoided the fatal strike to the heel; snakes respect such passion as we had.

How I fell in love with those stripped overalls: the swell of your breasts irresistible under the pressure of your leotard. I knew immediately upon walking into the house that, whatever the cost, I would remove those overalls, caress those orbs, or pinch when the time was right.

How we were frustrated that first night, election night 1994: In spite of certain logistical issues what happened was necessary. Never mind the sister. No protection: perhaps the wait made it sweeter. A run for condoms while it was still dark outside. Can there be too much foreplay? Goddamn straight. By 3:00 I was damn near ready to play McGyver and use a glad bag. The fortunate aspect of having no condoms; we spent hours exploring each others bodies, created a science of erotics.

All that passion: how did it escape? The arguments did not help.
The secret thoughts we harbored of being free. All of the time I spent in my office? How could I not, orals bearing down upon me. I dreamed of Plato, Derrida, Kant and Foucault on the rare occasions that I slept.

Whatever the case, we sure did screw the monkey. Were you as
relieved as I was to have escaped? Were you as sad? How I once loved you: unbearably.

How I Once Loved You: Unbearably

Rusty Gentry

Joined November 2007

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Artist's Description

The fragility of love, of passion, makes it unbelievable that we are ever willing to take a second chance on it, much less all of the other chances.

This is a re-post from a very long time ago. I’m not entirely happy with it’s form, and even some of the content. Nonetheless, hopefully the works stands. For you to judge, my friends.

Artwork Comments

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