Secret

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she is pure want;
she wants him more in this moment than she’s ever wanted anything

wrapping her legs around him,
all she wants is for him to do whatever pleases him;
she wants him to do it all

and he does,
he does what pleases him,
greedy, carnivorous, taking –
but she is greedy, too

you see,
that’s the secret he knows about her –
she is no different than he is;
she wants, she needs,
her blood boils just as much

its tangible, this not-so-secret,
it’s evident in the way he seems to be consuming her like he never has before:
hungrier, thirstier, more demanding,
as if he wishes to meet greed with more greed,
to coax it all to the surface into one consumous energy

and she can feel it, this coaxing,
in her blood, in the electric current connecting every neuron,
every square inch of her

placing her hand upon his chest,
reaching out as if to grasp his energy,
there is his heart, exposed,
right in the palm of her hand

he fucks her as if the world were about to end,
as if he could never get enough,
as if she were all he needed

whiskers tickle-scraping the soft skin of her neck,
she can feel the rhythmic heat inside him,
all that heat that also resides in her

she feeds his hunger, quenches his thirst,
melts into his every demand,
and finds a place inside her, so deep –
once secret, but no longer

he says her name in a growling moan,
and then she’s gone –
she’s shattered into pure energy,
absorbed into the smolder, that heat,
and she finds herself crying

the cold that once owned her rises to form a single sob,
as she arches her head back,
wrapping herself around him,
tighter still

that’s when she knows –
there is no way to measure this communion,
this transformation,
this living, growing thing that is both chaos and understanding –
no earthly scale will do

only hearts can feel and souls can know;
only theirs

-image via Tumblr

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. 

stardust


illuminated by the heavens,
I stood, gazing at the night,
the cool stillness surrounding me,
as shadowed limb’s impossible angles reached to the gods, in reverence,
some leaning above me, protectively,
as if nature herself was guarding me,
preserving my connection to the sacred ground beneath my feet,
as I felt myself sparkle with the stars

suddenly, inexplicably,
I felt your presence inside me,
penetrating my depths,
your soul, from afar, 
trying to gather the dust of mine,
desperate to protect its innocent sparkle

my concentration broke only when I saw you drawing near,
my body instinctively gravitating toward yours,
the arch of my back folding toward, 
the curve of my hips flowing inward,
my cheek finding its home in the crook of your neck

the whole of me becoming the shading of your silhouette,
stretching across the mirrored grass

my vibrant veins yearned to be rooted to yours,
just as the humble tree is rooted to Mother Earth 

my breathing slowed as I communed,
time’s passing stopped,
my chest’s rise against your arms surrounding me the only tangible evidence  of earthly life 

behind my closed eyelids danced a kaleidoscope of light,
stardust meeting stardust

one collective soul

and I knew in that moment,
we’d gained something only the spirits are privy to

-an older post reworked for the better, I hope; image found on Tumblr

Living In Color


in the spaces between
the heaven’s stardust and sand, 
spirits paint in color
with vibrant, carefree hands

she absorbs their artwork
from morning to night,
each of her senses
revelling in their delight

waking, there’s the sound
of cerulean blue,
and later she hums a beat
a sunset-orange hue

her love follows a breeze,
alive, like ripe amethyst pistons, 
and she weeps to the chirping
of a grey dove’s persistence 

laughing, deep belly laughs 
a sweet cherry-red wine,
and dancing to a cadence
of whispering green pine

tired eyes’ reluctantly closing
to omnicient caves black, 
after praying to a collectiveness, 
golden Ra’s rays upon her back

and she feels others’ radiated colors, 
maybe to you that sounds silly, 
but if she looked in your direction,
what color would you be?

Well? Do tell!

~photo credit weadartists.org

Half Empty?

M has often said that I have a knack for focusing easily on the negative in a situation, especially if it has to do with the two of us. I can’t say that isn’t true, because it is, and sometimes it’s pretty frustrating. 

But I don’t focus on the negative because I’m a pessimist or because I enjoy wallowing in misery. I do not enjoy creating my own misery or conjuring anxiety for the sake of feeling crappy. I have a deep need to understand things, especially when it has to do with us. I need to know the why’s and how’s, especially when it comes to his thinking, and he is not an especially verbal person, so I ask. 

Our relationship is the foundation on which I stand every day. It’s woven into my backbone, and I count on it, I count on us, and this structure we’ve built. So when I feel unsure about a situation, or something has left me feeling off, I need to talk it through with M so I can understand. Sometimes I just need reassurance, because I’m fighting old habits or ways of thinking, and I’m left feeling vulnerable. 

Either way, when I’m focusing on the negative, I’m focusing on what I cannot understand or explain on my own, and I’m desperately trying to NOT make poor assumptions or speculations. I’m looking to him for clarification and assurance. Instead of allowing my mind to create a negative space that hurts us both, I’m leaning on him and placing confidence in him to guide us in the direction that suits us. 

That’s progress, I think. I’m not seeing the cup as half empty or doubting his abilities. I’m saying to him – our cup is not half empty or half full, but together we are the pitcher that can constantly refill the glass. I’m asking him to help me tip the pitcher. And, luckily, he is very patient, and we’ve talked it through so many times, he usually understands. 

stardust


~photo credit 8tracks.com

illuminated by the heavens,
I stood, gazing at the night,
the cool stillness surrounding me, 
as shadowed limb’s impossible angles reached to the gods, 
in reverence,
some leaning above me, protectively,
as if nature herself
was guarding me,
making significant my connection 
to the sacred ground
beneath my feet

only when I felt you drawing near,
was my focus averted,
suddenly, sensing you all around,
enveloping me,
penetrating my depths,
a familiar pulling,
your stardust soul,
from afar trying to gather
the dust of mine,
desperate to shelter 
it’s innocent sparkle

naturally, my body
gravitated toward yours,
the arch of my back,
the curve of my hips,
the bend in each and every muscle had become the outline
of your silhouette

my life line longed 
to be rooted to yours,
just as the tree above me
was rooted to Mother Earth,
and she to the heavens above 

my breathing slowed
as we merged, syncing to yours,
time’s passing stopped,
my chest’s rise against your arms
the only tangible evidence 
of earthly life 

behind my closed eyelids
danced a kaleidoscope of light,
stardust joining stardust,
one collective soul

my body had attained
memory of you,
but our souls had
achieved much more,
and I knew we’d gained something
only the spirits are privy to

Left Behind

Scarlet lettered blouse
Right from the start
She knelt as she was told
Yet she stayed for her heart

But it kept beating to a drum
Of her own making
A rhythm born of will
And not one made of faking

Yet they tried to chart her path
The one led by the lemmings
Of course, her footsteps strayed
For, inside her roots were stemming

Yearning for full bloom
And reaching for the sun
As her footsteps were more deliberate
She finally broke out in a run

Never looking back
Her journey has been hard
She’s left with many scars
But she’s left behind her guard

Salvation

I see you in the curve of my clavicle,
in the slope of my neck,
the beckoning brown fleck,
who’s tickle is audible 

I feel you in the needy purse of my lips,
in my teeth that must bite,
the contortion to keep quiet,
and my hands that twist and grip

I hear you in the involuntary sigh,
in the breathy, wanting moan,
the love to hate it groan,
and the fevered pitch, so high

I taste you in the salt on my skin,
in the wet, bourbony trail,
the pine-woodsy, goosebump Braille,
marking everywhere you’ve been

I need you, your every sensation,
won’t you let me awaken yours,
sink into your pours,
each the other’s salvation?