#priapus synastry

This is a letter. In the passion, mystery, and intensity of Venus–Priapus, a Venus woman speaks of the longing she feels for her Priapus man. A woman blessed with the grace of Venus cannot experience light or trivial emotions toward the man who stands before her in his intensity, rawness, and primal nature. Venus, having lost her grace in Priapus' passion. She looks back one last time at the tranquility behind her. My other dark synastry articles are here.

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When I look at you, admiration feels too small a word.

Admiration watches from a distance.

But I am not watching you.

When I move closer to you, something within me opens.

You feel less like a person and more like a threshold.

As if a certain frequency of my life becomes visible in your presence.

When you speak, it is not just words unfolding, but layers.

When I am beside you, two emotions awaken in me

a quiet fear and a profound sense of safety.

The fear comes because, in touching you, my defenses dissolve.

The safety comes because behind those defenses stands my heart, unguarded yet strong.

It would be easy to say you enchant me.

But this is not enchantment.

It is remembrance.

As if my soul whispers:

“This is it. This is the depth you have been searching for.”

With you, a more mystical part of me rises.

I sense the unseen more clearly.

My intuition speaks louder.

It feels as though the silent sage within me stands up and says

“Do not hide anymore.”

When I see the fractures in your past, compassion moves through me.

Not the kind that wants to rescue,

but the kind that dares to reflect and be reflected.

Sometimes when I think of you, my heart quickens.

It is not only desire.

It is the thrill of stepping into a wider version of myself with you.

Beside you, I am more visible.

More alive.

More profound.

It is as though you remind me of a star that had been sleeping within me.

And I realize that the light is not yours alone,

but it shines more brightly when you are near.

Perhaps destiny will not place us on an endless road together.

Perhaps our paths will part somewhere ahead.

But I know this:You unlocked something within me.

And if souls truly dance,

then in one turning of that dance,

we looked into each other’s eyes and said,

“I see you.”

For me,

that is something deeper than love.

As the wind howled through the stone arches, Galadriel’s breath grew shallow. The two shadows cast upon the walls of the dark hall horned, intertwined, both passionate and feral were swelling before her eyes, nearly smothering her own presence. And yet the only place left for her to retreat was the narrow space directly in front of Malakor’s chest.

The man stood rigid, his shoulders unmoving. There was a tension about him, as if the creature in the shadow were breathing down his neck; yet that very tension did not break him it only made him more resolute. He had been the first to notice the shadow. In fact, she would never know, but… he had understood where it came from long before anyone else.

“Galadriel,” he whispered. His voice carried no urgency, but beneath it ran a darkness like a crack rising through stone. “Do not just hide behind me. Face it.”

When she lifted her gaze, her eyes shimmered. “I’m afraid… This thing… This is us…”

“No,” he cut in. But he said it while looking away. “Or… our shadow.”

The silence that followed was filled with everything neither dared to voice. The creature in the shadow was an elongated echo of Malakor’s silhouette—horned, wild, untamed. Galadriel’s shadow, on the other hand, had surrendered itself to that darkness, as though it were already one with it. Though an arm’s length separated them in truth, their shadows clung to each other.

“You…” his voice softened, tinged with something almost like guilt. “This darkness came with me. You know that. I told you from the beginning.”

“No,” she said, denying yet understanding at the same time. “There’s something you did not tell me. Why that shadow calls to me… to you… like this.”

He finally turned to face the shadow. In that moment, she saw—for the first time—an open strain on his face: that thin, dangerous line between the man who controlled the darkness and the man on the verge of succumbing to it. His breath trembled quietly.

“Because,” he said, “a shadow takes form only when someone yields to it. I ran from it for years. But you…” His throat tightened. “The closer you get, the stronger it becomes.”

Her eyes widened. “So… because of me”

“No.” His voice sharpened, echoing his protective stance. He stepped forward, grasping her wrist with gentle yet unshakable resolve. “Not because of you. Because of us.”

The shadowy pair on the wall was now even clearer—bodies fused, inseparable. Passion, sin, forbidden desire, fear… all blended into the same dark hue.

Locking his gaze with hers, he said, “My darkness is calling to you. And you feel it. But if I don’t control it… it will control us.”

Her heart hammered. His voice carried both a warning and a confession, sending a cold tremor down her spine. His darkness… was awakening her own. She wanted to step back, yet each retreat only drew her more forcefully toward him, like a magnet she could not resist.

“What if…” her voice was barely audible. “What if we lose ourselves in that darkness?”

Malakor looked at her as though she had spoken the one fear he had buried deepest within him for years.

“Then,” he said, “we will be lost together.”

The shadowed figures writhed more fiercely at those words, clinging to each other with renewed intensity. And as she found herself drifting toward him, unable to resist, their shadows whispered that the decision had already been made.