Past Presence

BELOVEDS

Chameleons

of persuasion:

lines and lullabies

inciting senses at will,

spilling secrets fostered

beneath my breast

when my tongue

has yet to

tell a soul

Melodic whispers

of satin strings

osculate somber woes

cradling me from myself

as gentle strands

of pianissimo cords

weave a blanket

of auditory comfort

My encouragers…

my critics,

compelling me

to remember all

while allowing me

to forget everything,

yielding emotions

to discern those things

I do and do not want to feel,

have and have not felt,

and should and should not desire

A ménage a trois

of interpretations,

versifications,

and intonations

fondle ...

To His Pen I Submit

He dips his quill in black ice and

scribes arctic winds underside

my spine

Crimson spills of merlot wells beneath my tongue as a lacerated lip becomes a silencing pleasure

Cashmere fabric paralyzes my body into

a position of submission and I am numbed

by these iced searing incisions, unable to

distinguish suffering from comfort

Satisfaction surfaces atop the buttery brown dip that lies between my spine and his dream as colors of sex, love, and pain conjugate a lasting inscription of

chiseled quill to flesh intimacy

I placate his ego as his branding stick

becomes my emancipation and

freedom is found woven

in my mortal diary

by hand-stitched fibers

Karma's Lover

He exists in the catacombs
of my immortality,
buried beneath the breast
of fate’s consecrated vein
His claret potions course
thru passages of hollow flesh
relieving my body
of frigid passions and desires
He infects my being with
a languishing presence
whispering breaths of light
into crevices of longings
and desperations that without him
would have succumbed to a
diseased core of cancerous misery
He manifests life…an innate
element essential for me to subsist
beyond pulses, palpitations,
and respirations
He is my yen…existing in
the catacombs of my immortality,
buried beneath the breast
of fate’s consecrated vein
waiting to be exhumed by destiny’s
promise to return his spirit
to me so that my soul
might live again.

Past Presence

Something about the way he
touches me on the inside.
No penetration,
strictly the elation of the thought of
his being overwhelms me
to the point of orgasmic jubilation.
Mmmmmm
I crave this temptation.
Takes me to the stars
just being held in his arms.
has me touching forever
while holding onto now.
Pleases me before leaving me
without knowing how he takes me
just where I need to be.
My mind is his canvas and
his art leaves me breathless as he
paints the most stimulating
array of emotions
with every whisper
of his voice.
I feel him so deeply
yet it's me who he dreams of
with eyes-wide-opened.
Sees my beauty in his own reflection
because that's where he keeps me.
Breathe's me;
not only wants but needs me.
Bleeds when I hurt because no pain
he wants to cause me...aga...

Simply Beautiful

 It’s the way you stare at me
when you think I’m not looking.
It’s the kiss you leave
on my forehead while I’m
asleep before you leave for work.
It’s that at any given moment
call telling me you love me.
It’s you baking my favorite
turtle brownies because it’s
“that time of the month”.
It’s you remembering the day,
down to the minute of
the first time we kissed.
It’s not letting a day pass by
without you telling me
how beautiful I am and
how lucky you are.
It’s how you make love
to my mind first, then my body
until that love consumes both
of us and we find nirvana
in each other’s arms.
It’s about your
patience with me,
your commitment to me,
and the sincere way you
show me what I mean
to yo...

The Woman You Love

 when you look at me
do you see her face?
do you remember what
she tastes like first thing
in the morning?
do you recall
her scent
calling you to find
her smile
awaiting your kiss
beneath
the sheets?
do you reminisce on
surrendering yourself
to her...
relinquishing your
insecurities to find
sanctity
in the beauty
of her spirit?
do you thirst for her?
do you hunger for her substance
to ease the pangs
of gnawing emptiness,
consequent of
attempting to consume
waxed fruit?
do you look into her eyes
and appreciate the audacity
of her to love you
unconditionally?
do you embrace her...
the woman she is...
the treasure she was to you...
the testament she epitomized
as a body of faithfullness,
loyalty, and love?
so again,<...