On Being a ‘Kept Woman’

He is better at understanding the world than me.

He is more brilliant than me.

He has more wealth than me.

He is funnier than me.

He is younger than me.

He comes from a 'better family' than me.

He is better at business than me.

He is better at figuring things out than me.

He is better at making things happen than me.

He is stronger than me.

He is better at following through than me.

He is better at communicating than me.

He is better at understanding how things work than me.

He is better at arriving at the correct destination than me.

In other words, I HAVE NOTHING to give to him

Other than the stripped-down-to-the-naked-essence of Feminine Beingness and Radiance that I AM.

Which just so happens to be EVERYTHING to a man who understands the infinite value of a woman deeply in love with her own Nature.

 ✨

In the force of this love, I am kept.

I am kept opened and turned on.

I am kept in submission to my highest Self.

I am kept in my fullness.

I am kept wettened and hungry for his sex.

I am kept in my deepest bliss body.

I am kept in the succulent thrill of my blindness.

I am kept deep in experiencing the true nature of my Self.

I am kept called forth by his Sight and his mastery.

I am kept dying to my former small self over and over again.

I am kept in the wildnesss of my Feminine Eros.

I am kept playful and in my joy.

I am kept in the deep delight of my desire to please him.

I am kept in my devotion.

I am kept in the womb-deep YES of all that he chooses to create for me.

Even my overt attempts at "doingness" for Max are so deeply enveloped in the dark velvet caverns of my pleasure that they become unintentional acts of devotion.

I am kept free: 

the greatest paradox of Love.