My Gypsy Queen

(A Confessional Essay on My Love for Rio)

By

Jason Montoya

Thoughts of you float randomly, like the careless dance of debris being shuttled by the wind.  I find myself unveiled by your influence, leaving only my heart vulnerable to your touch. The danger of dark secrets whispers in your eyes, muttering the painful moans of some untold regret.  Disoriented by the sway of your mystery, tossing me about like a bobbing cork in the ocean. Gazing into your immortal beauty, I find myself drawn into a kiss. I swallow your tongue, inhaling the life-giving force of your breath. Your scent intoxicates my senses, distorting my concept of time. I lose myself, to find my soul in your love.  We entangle ourselves in a sacred dance of naked love. Our hearts provide the rhythm that dictates the movement of our bodies. Falling into your embrace, I drown in the vastness of your soul. You encompass me, begging for my manhood. The friction intensifies as we express our deepest desires through the gestures of sexuality. You command me with your eyes, never wavering from the influential power of your gaze.  Captivated by the hue of your skin, your body eloquently draped over the bed pushing my desire to the brink of savage passion. Chivalry fades with every moment I lose a piece of myself in the sea of your nobility.  I push myself inside you wanting desperately to merge my soul with yours. I am sensitive to your movements like a spider’s touch, I fall prey to your feminine dominance. The pressure builds within me groping and begging for release. I am weakened by the thought of pouring my soul into your womb, building to the moment where God is found. My thoughts die resurrecting the consciousness of my heart.  My mortality falls into your body, leaving me in a state of momentary death.  Staring into your eyes, I find myself vulnerable and insecure like a newborn child I lie naked harboring the faith that my Queen’s love will nurture me.  Your Gypsy heart holds the history of your nomadic love.  The remnants of conquered men hang from your neck reminding me of the dispensability of my heart.  Could a Peasant be so bold to dream of captivating the will of a Royal Heart?    

My Gypsy Queen, you are a mirage waving in the heat of my obsession. Fleeting thoughts of you flutter in my consciousness, landing chaotically and forming a collage of memories showing me a glimpse into your true nature. Your web of love ensnares my mind distracting me from your blood-stained gown. I lie willfully upon your altar of sacrifice, submitting myself to your will. How can a mind be so careless as to slip into a state of self-proclaimed denial? The kinesthetic poetry of your movements enchants me, releasing me from the pressures of the world.  Bowing to your feet, I listen intently to the majestic song passing through your lips.  Your song haunting and lingering turn me into a beggar agonizing for a scrap of your love. I draw your gaze revealing your mask; colorful and painted it futilely camouflage your true intentions. How can I understand the desires of your Gypsy Heart? For it is an ocean, in which the tides of your loving gestures crash against me, creeping back into the sea of your bosom, teasing and testing my faith in love?  Just as I question my right to your blood, your eyes shimmer exposing a crescent view into my branching future rooted in your heart.  Ripping deep within my skin, I peel back the self-concept conceived by my romantic lust for Maya.  My blood runs to your feet warming you, and my body dies, slipping through your arms I fall into the underworld. Death brings clarity guiding me to the realization of the phantoms that claimed my consciousness. Seeing you for the first time our energies communicate, weaving the fabric of our love. Studying my reflection in fluctuating rhythm of black silence, I see you.   We are one.