Some women are complex, mostly all, and to varying degrees. I have been told that I mask my authentic feelings behind a placid smile, like a Cheshire cat. I don't believe that anyone can lose as much as I've lost without cultivating this ability. So my emotions are difficult to ascertain when I choose to remain silent. And when I'm not singing, silence is my preferred state. For I have learned to listen more than I speak and to watch carefully lest another betrayal overtake me and consume the rational parts of my being. One however hears my thoughts as music. Luca feels and hears my energetic patterns and knows me, I think, better than I know myself. His eyes are a home that I have never visited but of which I have often dreamed. I am safe there and I don't want to leave. His touch at first chills my flesh and then burns where the chill had been. It excites me in such a way that I experience life and each sensation with heightened clarity and pleasure. I love him with my higher self. I love him with abandon and have fallen in love with the version of me that he reflects. I love Luca for who he is. I feel like a priestess in a sacred temple when I see myself through his eyes.
But there is also Phisto. He is a furnace of sexual energy and power such that I am helpless amidst the storm of his touch. Phisto loves my talent first and looks to cultivate base urges that struggle to assert themselves. Urges such as the desire for power, supremacy, wealth. And the artistic world has a feeding frenzy with these urges. After all success is to the swift, the calculating, the survivor.
I am the warrior with Phisto, fearless, strong. Ruthless.
I am the Priestess with Luca, wise, complete. The keeper of a sacred flame.
They each want me to choose. And in that one decision I will clarify my life and who I choose to be. If only each woman could live unfettered and free. Why must I choose? Yet a decision must be made at the Violet Hour and that will determine my soul's signature from that moment onward.