the rhythm was overwhelming,
so deep within her, 
it was all she felt,
her breath syncing to him,
until she was so lost,
she wasn’t certain she was breathing at all

he’d woven himself inside her,
threading and stitching,
mapping a patchwork of every moment,
a pattern so colorful she didn’t need
open eyes to see;
it just was and always would be

she knew this,
she knew it like she knew 
things that just are, 
like fire in the pit of her belly,
concrete and steel
in the marrow of her bones

that’s why, when his fingers
gripped her throat,
she wasn’t afraid,
in fact, she was quite the opposite;
in this moment she was more alive 
than she’d ever been

just his, and nothing else

it was just he and her
and the rhythm,
the rhythm of them,
the absence of space between, 
slippery skin, all muscle and no time,
for time had ceased to exist

and, oh god, her body knew his touch,
craving it more than air, even,
needing to spill over,

except, her mind was so 
intertwined with his,
that her body had no choice but to wait,
humming, full to capacity,
floating, suspended,
awaiting his permission

and with just one phrase,
three words, hot in her ear, 
taking root in her center,
her body obeyed,
in heaves and trembles and moans,
all belonging to him

she belonged to him

-image found via Tumblr

Ask the Dusk

Slowly, sun begins to set, 
Twilight’s colors igniting the sky

Light warily fading beneath horizon,
Not quite ready for goodbye

Patiently, I wait, for stars to shine,
Illuminating hungry eyes

As dark descends in silky silence,
Waking mortal souls once shy

Where, lying bare, to moon and you
I ask dusk to help me fly 

-image credit archiveofourown.org, I own no rights to the song, found on YouTube 


with a single, brisk flick and a slow, deliberate draw between those inciting,
wet lips,
you set me ablaze,
a deep, amber smoulder,
not unlike throwing tinder to ember still seething under ephemeral ash

the air around us is an oscillating rhythm,
a familiar pulse my body can’t help but remember,
the one that makes my belly flutter in anticipation,
a sensational humming, a rising vibrato,
a thrumming high 

it is pure fire radiating outward,
a slow, but ferocious burn,
aching to be stoked by you

hovering above, there you are,
chest heaving in swells, 
looking down at me, all-consuming,
commanding me with those rapt, hungry eyes,
in them the reflection of all I’m willing to give,
reminding me exactly who I am

I am your eager sizzle,
I am your infinite ache,
I am limitless want and wrecking need,
I am unfiltered surrender,
the slow, savored-with-your-eyes-pinched-shut drag,
inhaled into your depths,
never to leave

I am yours to balance between nimble fingers,
to inspire and expire,
over and again,
until the only tangible part of me 
is where your fingers grip, 
where your lips surround me 

and the rest is just smoke,
billowing in the wind

-image found via Pinterest

Ethereal (Quadrille)

breath slowing, syncing to yours,
time’s passing ceased

behind clenched eyelids, passion’s spark ignited the heavens,
singular universe created

my body had attained memory of you,
but our souls had achieved much more 

I knew then we’d gained something 
only spirits are privy to

-image credit 8tracks.com, shared in response to DVerse’s Quadrille prompt, spark

Warmth of the Sun

Be in the moment a silly phrase, I once thought,
As I filled days with distraction, feeling overwrought,
Until I realized I was numbing, running a losing race,
Needed to slowly sift and sort, easing the crazy pace,
Clouds began to lift, moments becoming clearer,
Feelings huge and real, love so much nearer,
Lightning crackling through my veins, rejuvenating soul,
Threads untwisting, new discovered, weaving self whole,
Now I try to see each moment, end to end, one by one,
Encasing my everyday in the warmth of the sun 

-sunrise as seen from my side door, photo is mine

Macro Shine

M recently brought home this fantastic little macroscope for us to play with. It’s unbelievable what an iPhone camera can pick up looking through it, especially when the sun is shining brightly!

My eye, reflecting the brilliant sky.


Head of a screw in wood.

Busy ant…look closely, and you can see the pollen on his exoskeleton.

Photos belong to us. 


In my eyes you look for the reflection of you,
Hope-glazed pupils in a dark green hue

Into my heart you project your own expectations,
Unrealistic, ideals of your own fucked up creation

In my kindness you see mostly something to take,
More for you, while I’m left in your wake

Maybe it’s impossible for you to see past my face,
Eyes too cloudy with your yesterdays

In me you look for things I can’t possibly fulfill,
In you they must reside, of your own free will

-image found via google images