Some things are meant to be posted, and others...

It seems that if I profess my love, in not too vibrant of passage, the post is acceptable, endearing, and flattering to the object of my affection. If I dig deeper, explore the base instincts of a man lusting after a woman, and if I use words that our society has deemed vulgar, pornographic, and not meant for pleasant conversation, then I place myself as a rogue, a cad, a dishonorable man parading the descriptions of my affair like dirty magazines lined up on a squalid street corner newsstand. Either way, if it was myself, and my lover wrote how I traced the line of her back with a hand that was made to be held in prayer, how I kissed her with lips that had recently whispered the name of God, or how my eyes echoed and then cleansed the pain of her past mistakes, I would be just as flattered as if she said, "I've never been fucked like that before."