My Surrender

I am no mindless fucktoy
kneeling at the feet of any commanding boy

I am no opinionless subvert
reciting ‘Yes, Sir’s’, wearing plaid skirts

I am no boundless subservient 
doing anything I’m told, devoid of dissent

I am no willing doormat
bowing down, to be looked down at

I am a strong, educated equal
bringing just as much to the relationship table

I am a soft woman, insightful and self-aware
I know where I’m going and I know how to get there

I earned my inner wisdom with blood, sweat, and tears,
and I won’t allow that to be belittled, manhandled by fear

For, I am submissive,
and I choose to follow him

I willingly offer surrender,
because his love is both fierce and tender

I give myself to him,
because my happiness is his seraphim

He values my voice,
so I surrender my choice

He knows what I need,
because he’s asked, not decreed
and he’s been by my side for 24 crazy years, 
sharing in all of the blood, sweat, and tears

I surrender to this man, 
who owns every inch of my heart,
but he doesn’t make me whole, 
that’s my responsibility, my equal part

-image via Tumblr, source unknown

The Forest 

I’m lost in a forest of the tallest trees, inundated with wickedly bent, sinister trunks, and thicket so dense my feet can barely move, the air damp and heavy, sitting like rocks in my lungs.

Swiping and slashing, I claw at the overgrowth’s sharpness, aching to lift my legs and move, grasping for vines that might save me. Yet, I don’t want to be saved. I crave absolution. 

On tattered, tired, and bended knees, I offer you a ridged branch, begging for penance, desperate for your command, yearning for you to envelope me in the shelter of your palm. 

Help me be my vine.

And then I wonder, how heavy is that staff? Is the weight just too much?

You answer, you deliver. You take and give, give and take. With each strike, a little of you infiltrates me, suffocating the darkness, penetrating every fiber of muscle, saturating each porous bone, filling and filling until you seep up through every follicle and pore, spilling out and bending to my every contour, forming a shield upon my flesh that no thorn can puncture.

And now, I can weave my vine, with threads of you in the center, the strength in its core. 

Together we can conquer; we can see the forest though the trees. 

Written in the Stars

he scribbled his intentions
across her willing flesh
with fingertips and glistening
streaks of wetness
leaving pools of hope and lust
in her clearly seeing eyes

he penned chapter after chapter
over her every curve and thew
with warm whispers
fevered grips and moans
and commands that pushed her toward
leaving her speechless, no need to speak

he illustrated their story
in the spaces that were once
between them

he bound their story
with a spine made of their blood and sweat
which could never stop growing

their story is written in the stars

~photo credit Tumblr

Topography

his hungry gaze
tortuous, magnetic
fingers graze
inciting, phrenetic

studying her curves
beckoning, revering
awakening nerves
blazing, nearing

crossing silky mound
calculating relief
tracing ‘round
pausing, brief

following his commands
eagerly pleasing
cartographer’s hands
infinitely teasing

peaks and valleys
mastering her reaction
explosive finale
forced extraction

reaching destination
a path not a when
whispering softly
he begins again

-art by Fernand Fonssagrives, found on Tumblr

Not One

I am not one of you
I’m a sieve
A sponge
I adsorb your cue

I am not one of you
I’m a strum
A reciprocal vibration
I hear your hue

I am not one of you
I’m a bubble
A transparent vessel
I see right through

I am not one of you
I’m a translator
A personifier
I feel your askew

I am not one of you
I’m a palate
A canvas
I soak in, imbue

I am not one of you
I’m a double-take
A tip of the tongue
I’m Deja vu

I am not one of you
I’m a moment
A slide show
I’m a tribute

I am not one of you
I’m fluid
A vast, never ending sea
I’m complex me

Swimming in Circles

’round and ‘round and ‘round I go
hope in circles, love below 

waves behind, ripples ahead
undertow above footbed

in a school, both lost and found
yet chasing tail, ‘round and ‘round

off’ring scales like Rainbow Fish,
unrealistic was my wish

down below, I do belong 
the ‘round and ‘round feels all wrong 

aesthetic is not for me 
I must dive, exhale, be free

-image credit afarcry.org; shared as part of the  DVerse Poet Pub Prompt, Repetition

Hollow

They say the pines a’whisper,
A rustling lullaby song,
As the breeze plucks at treetops,
And cool nights grow dark and long

But their sound does not lull, no,
It sings harshly of a bye,
Disappearing in shadow,
And cruel whispering of lies 

There’s no bogeyman hiding,
In the darkest nooks of night,  
It’s absence that’s a’haunting, 
Hollow howls in the moonlight

-image found via rebloggy.com

Blush, A Quadrille

it’s crazy how I’m caught off-guard,
after all these years

how tearing down walls
left my smallness in the open

how your hungry looks,
whispery words,
tracing fingers,
make me blush,
squirm,
want

it’s crazy how being off-guard
feels so at home,
with you

-image credit Tumblr; re-working of an older poem in response to DVerse Quadrille Night, Whisper