Liquefied


storm’s eye entrusted
within your palm,
glowing fury extends,
momentarily calm

closing space,
meeting trepidous skin,
lightning flashing,
gooseflesh begins

circling orbs,
as breathing catches,
creating peaks,
heat stinging like matches

slowly and deliberately,
traveling lower,
crackling and buzzing,
gaining power

or maybe that was you,
the eye of the storm,
shooting streams of light
against my form

finally reaching
my pinnacle of need,
with back-arching, sheet-twisting, lip-biting greed

my body awake,
every molecule alive,
thrumming and humming
in overdrive

then you touch me,
pure energy on skin,
and I liquefy
into a thunderous din

Photo is mine

Morning

sleepy eyes wake to salmon hue
sneaking between the window shades

inviting feet to follow, out
to savor what the gods have made

billowing cotton stretches the sky
as I breathe in the chilly air

and little paws dance on frosty grass
reluctant to leave his lair

warmth radiates in steamy wafts
from my favorite Black Dog mug

filled with the best pour-over java
made for me, the perfect hug

thinking pad and clean white sheets
lay before me, calling me home 

I sink to inky depths, welcomed
direction completely unknown 


Photos are mine. Good morning!

Things

*MATURE WARNING


She wanted things
That sometimes made her blush

She daydreamt of things
That maybe she should not

She craved things
That many would never consider

She’d tasted things
Her senses could never forget

She was awake, alive 
And she wanted so much more

Lucky for her, there was no thing
He didn’t also want

And many things he craved and executed 
Which surprised the hell out of her 

There was no place they wouldn’t go
Together

Come Away With Me

  
Photo chosen was inspired by the lyrics from “Come Away With Me” by Nora Jones. It was taken in the Alleghany Mountains, on a beautiful lake in Pennsylvania. We’d just come off the water in our kayaks, M and I. I often daydream about sneaking away to that spot, kayaks and a tent, just the two of us.

Lyrics:

Come away with me in the night
Come away with me
And I will write you a song

Come away with me on a bus
Come away where they can’t tempt us
With their lies

I want to walk with you 
On a cloudy day
In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high
So won’t you try to come

Come away with me and we’ll kiss
On a mountaintop
Come away with me
And I’ll never stop loving you

And I want to wake up with the rain
Falling on a tin roof
While I’m safe there in your arms
So all I ask is for you

To come away with me in the night
Come away with me

Post inspired by The Daily Post Photo Challenge, Half-Light

The Cave

image

Narrowed entrance, beckoning

Facing ages of indelible fear, she follows

Descending, deeper still

On bended, reverent, trepidus knees

With white-knuckled fingers and gripping, dirty palms

Lead by his hand, they proceed

Air changing, from fresh and crisp

To cool and threatening, stale and hollowed

Dampness pulling at her warm flesh

Airless air, stifled lungs

Thum-dum, thum-dum, resounding in her chest

Blackness, closing in

Yet, deeper, onward they go

In trust, she follows

Around pointed pitfalls and sinking stumbling blocks

Guided by his light

And the friction-made, sturdy smoothness

Etched with souls and memories

Under their fingertips

Exhilarated in their adventure, in the conquer

His whispered words in her ear command

Shedding fabric and inhibition

Penetrating and primal

Their echoes joining a thousand immortal voices

Sharing a spirited narrative

Breathless, they emerge

A piece of them left behind

Anew

Imagine


Leaning back, I close my eyes

The crisp coolness of the fresh country air,

And the bright warmth of the morning sun

Upon my face

The comfort of my favorite hand-painted owl mug

Gripped in one hand,

The strength of your hand encompassing the other,

Aromatic steam rising

Peace and stillness,

Aloneness,

Yet undoubtedly not alone,

Whole

One,

In our togetherness,

With nature,

In spirit and in soul

How could this feeling

Ever get old?

I can’t imagine it ever would

With you

It’s Real


Last night, as we nestled together against the crumpled sheets, looking into my eyes, M said to me (about our sex life):

“Do you know what my favorite part is? It’s real. It’s not obligatory. It’s never going through the motions. There’s so much emotion. It’s always different, always connected. I love it.”

Me too.