Twined

No, I don't think love and lust are the same thing. One doesn't come from the other, so to speak. They can begin simultaneously, and certain lusts might become inextricable from certain loves. But with the right one, they grow together, like criss-crossing vines growing up the sides of our lives.
They're never entirely the same though. I like that.

I remember when I first met you at the library. You were cute. I loved your hair, your dress was a lovely red and orange. I loved how clever you were, how you'd laugh loudly, uninhibited. When I packed up and headed out, I already wanted to see you in class again.
There was another line of thought though, one I had to slap away as we talked. What if I walked you up to once of the balconies, pulled your sundress up, and fucked you really, really hard?
It forced its way in front of your image while I was holding your stare in mine. I wanted to be present, so I shooed it away. A few times. On the way to the parking lot, I felt light, happy. On the car ride home, my mind returned to your body. I filled in the feeling of your skin, the sound of your breath. I held my bag in front of my pants as I ran up the stairs. It was a sweet little fantasy. I took my clothes off and sat upwards cross-legged on the bed. I wanted it to feel nice.

It was months until we were finally dating, and it happened all at once- both sides. Pizza in the city, talking about our families. Testing how I could choke you just right - "perfect!" Walking you to your car for a kiss, hug and goodbye. My arms tucked under your back, feet wrapped around yours, pumping hard inside you.
I remember liminal moments, from back then. Asking you if you wanted to come to the festival with me, while you slipped your clothes back on (my breath smelled like pussy). You asking if you could come over- you just deposited your thesis, and you wanted to me come to your place- only in my hoodie and sweatpants, nothing else.

It felt strange, becoming these different people together, it was incredible. As our lives together went on, our love and lust grew more spiritual, fine-grained, nuanced.
Sometimes I forget how they stood apart, in the beginning and the process of how they grew together, became entangled.
It's good to remember this, I think. The desire inside of me that drew me towards you, gave me the courage to say hello, and to give you what you wanted.
I didn't really chose. It saw you: The shape of your body, the color of your eyes, your breasts resting under your red sweater. A deep, primal part of me wanted it. I had no choice.
I am proud to be the dumb animal that fucks you again and again.