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Bianca J Walker Sep 2010
The heart is telling without uttering one word
Every yearning
Every feeling
And desire is heard
I know that melody
That song very well
When your heart utters words the lips dare not tell.
www.bjwdaily.com
2010 Bianca J. Walker
Bianca J Walker Sep 2010
I want you…
I want you instinctually and primitively.
Spiritually and physically.

I want to give you portions of me that I’ve never shown anybody; that will become distinctively yours - recognizable only to you and you alone.

I want to submerge you in a realm of ******* gentleness that perpetuates an aggressive kindness, that stimulates, and soothes every aching, yearning, desire that flows through your body.
Continuously…

I’m telling you what you already knew, that I will always be there for you, and you will never again feel alone or abandoned.
I  want to give you complete and total satisfaction.

I want you and every little idiosyncrasy that makes you unique, that others have critiqued, because they didn’t understand.

I want to show you that I can…

I want to dwell in the depths of your being. I want to unravel your complexity.

I want to give you vibrations in the form of a currant that arouses sensationally, at a frequency that makes you hum melodies of ecstasy uncontrollably as you call out for me.

I want to initiate an explosion of soft convulsions from the warmth of my mouth penetrating every inch of your body rhythmically.

I want the waters from the spring of your masculinity to drown me, and then I want you to save me.

I want to embrace you each night and wrap you in between soft warm thighs, and welcoming arms under moonlight, until your torso is wet, drenched with sweat, until each kiss drips from the tip of your lips, and I caress your back with my fingertips.

I want to make love to you the way an angel would if she could.
I want to show you heaven and ethereal visions without limita-tions or specifications.

  I want to give you happiness and pleasure unparallel, unlike any-thing either of us has ever felt, seen, or could create in our dreams.

I want to protect you from harm beneath my wings. I want you to believe in me…

I want you to come into my life.
2010 The **** of the ****** Mind: a journey of words & poetry
www.bjwdaily.com
Bianca J Walker Sep 2010
I miss our conversations at 4am. My time. I miss the provocativeness of talking about absolutely nothing of any importance for hours. I miss my sleepy, sluggish, somewhat coherent words, that revealed an honesty that you might not have heard if it wasn’t the wee hours of the morning. I miss the bravado of your voice that rhythmically danced in unison along side the raindrops outside my window. I miss visualizing that you were here with me. You never knew that long after we’d said goodnight, I’d lye there and think about you.

Perhaps you’ve noticed that I don’t call you at 4am anymore, because it’s no longer appropriate. Perhaps you’ve notice that I don’t call much at all.

But if it were 4am at this very moment, and my thoughts were only somewhat coherent, and I were drunk with sleepiness and honesty… I’d tell you that I miss you, and it hurts.
2010 The **** of the ****** Mind
www.bjwdaily.com

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