It's that half smile of yours
the one that you make
when you're making me moan
and you're enjoying yourself
simply by making me enjoy you.
Your eyes
so concentrated
but so calm
and they look at me
like they're reading my mind
like everything I'm thinking
is written in my eyes.
Your hands move over me
like they're retracing a familiar place
like they've been there many times before
but still have so much more to explore.
You know me too well
and not at all.
You're comfortable
and amazed
all at the same time.
You love me the most
when we're all alone.


*s.mndi

I felt him between my thighs and my heart sang songs my mind didn't even know it knew.
Warm and honeyed thoughts fill me until I am full and I am ready to concede defeat and open myself for his occupation.

But doesn't it always?
The body delights in new and welcome sensations and the head creates them.
I could easily dismiss it all as a ballet of chemical reactions and well placed hands, profoundly meaning

"Nothing".

Because everyone knows when the heat dies down, and the temperature drops, when the passion has waned like the moon, and the tide falls, only the bare bones of you are left and there are only calcium pillars to protect the flame.

Because everyone who has loved, even as a passing thought, has been left in the wake of warring bodies to observe the aftermath.
Was the tenderness making way for lust?
Did every kiss have a drop of hard truth imbued that I missed?
Were his hands caressing shallow intentions into my sensitive skin?
Did I miss the message?
Or were my eyes too open in awe, that they had closed on the casual way his hands and lips met my own?

"And what had all this been for?" Is the question that dances on the outskirts of my mind, while the meeting of my thighs still burned, and my heart had descended into free fall.

Satisfaction? Fear? Gratification? Doubt?

Love?

The worst feeling, of course, not being betrayal, confusion, shame, or loss, but plainly, uncertainty.

Nothing hurts the heart worse than not knowing.

When you touch me
I feel all the hair on my body stand up
As if it's reaching to see if it's you,
Yes you,
The most stunning and enchanting human being,  
Touching my body.

When you touch me
I feel warm and cold at the same time.
As if my body doesn't know how to react
To this,
This perfect human contact, skin on skin.                        
I think I'm melting.

When you touch me
And breathe your warm, sweet breath on my neck                                  
While tracing along with your tongue,
It seems
Like I've never been so far from reality.
Transcendental.

Keep him.
Keep him, if he's your personal protection.
Especially, if he protects your heart.

When danger emerges upon you.
And you should ever call upon him.
And he appears to safe guard you.
Keep him.
If he protects your heart.

Some of the greatest guys are allowed to leave.
Then after gone the woman wants to grieve.
Never telling him the most vital or important things.

Listen.
While you have the moment.
Think.
Think hard.
While you sitting and wondering.

List all his personal qualities.
And you will come to the conclusion.
To why you should keep him.
Especially, if he protects your heart.

Cause after all the questions asked of you.
Your only answer can be to them.
That you kept him.
Kept him because he protected your heart.

He took the burden.
He wear the scars.
Just to keep you from harm.

his body fits so well on top of mine.

his shoulders are freckled blades of beauty.
the muscles in his arms move and stretch as he reaches down to stroke my face.
his back is a smooth slate of speckled marble,
carved carefully.

I look up into his eyes.

they're oceans flooding my mind.
they drown my soul in wonder.
the oceans roll back into his head
as he leans down onto my body.
he breathes warm, sweet air onto my neck.

then,
it's finished.
he pauses.

at that moment, we are a complete puzzle, because his body fits so well on top of mine.