IT HURTS
At first I felt nothing.
Nothing but happiness.
It was easy.
Feeling your body on top of mine was easy.
But now,
But now it’s different.
I feel a multitude of things.
Love and pain amongst them.
It’s hard.
Feeling your body on top of mine is hard.
Your body feels heavier, just like my heart.
I long for our hearts to connect like our bodies do.
It hurts.
At first I felt nothing.
Now I feel everything.

Dolores Lo

The Other Man
He holds me and tells me i’m his and i tell him he is mine.
We hold hands, kiss, and make love till the sun comes up.
Smiling smiling, his eyes hold mine.
He whispers sweet nothings until we run out of time.
He watches me slip on his favorite red dress.
Beautiful beautiful he tells me as I slip on my shoes.
I gather my things and walk towards the door.
He looks at me as I look at him.
He looks like he wants to say three little words, but I stop him because the reality is
He holds me but I am not his and he is not mine.

LOVE OR LUST
Love. Defined as an intense feeling of deep affection.
I’ll cry for him. I’ll die for him.
Passion passion. That’s what it’s like when i’m riding him all night.
I long to be in his arms. Long to feel his touch. Long to feel him inside me.
I’ll cry for him. I’ll die for him.
That’s love.

Lust. Defined as a very strong ****** desire.
He’ll lie to me. He’d never die for me.
***** *****. That’s what it’s like when he’s inside me all night.
He longs to pull my hair. Longs to slap my ***. Longs to be inside me.
He’ll lie to me. He’ll never die for me.
That’s lust.

His hands are the brush,
my body is the canvas.
Each stroke is intentional.
Each stroke is beautiful.
He made nothing into something.

HIM

He has made me lose control.
His hands, roaming, searching for something on my body.
He searches every inch of me as if he is searching for his most valuable possession.
He is the hiker and I am the mountains he has come to explore.
Goodness, his hands.
They are so big. They make me feel small.
They’re soft in touch, rough in texture. They are experienced hands. He is the keeper of my life.
So much power in those hands.
His hands hold my life.

His eyes are two glasses filled with wisdom.
They are all knowing. His eyes know me- they know the world.
When he isn’t holding me with his hands, he’s holding me in his eyes.
His eyes are the iron shackles, I am the prisoner.
They hold the moon and the brightest stars.
I crumble underneath his gaze.
They make me weak.
They’re so full of power and desire.
His eyes hold me prisoner.

His love is like a river.
It keeps flowing and flowing.
I am the earth, he is my source of water.
I need his love to stay alive.
Without it, I am as dry as the summertime desert.
I am thirsty. I am parched.
Not even the Pacific Ocean can quench this thirst.
His love is the only resolution.
His love quenches my thirst.

His soul is a sacred burial ground.
He absorbs everyone yet, remains his own.
His soul shines brighter than the sun.
He holds the galaxies inside himself.
He is the mother,
the father,
the wise man,
the new born child.
He is the world.
He is us.