T'was a night before christmas
and all through my heart
was a glistening
knowing I had done all
I could to brighten
one soul, maybe two
and slept peaceful.


Now it is Christmas,
the day of our saviors birth.
We have lights arranged to celebrate
and toys for every boy and girl
but, you are so far away, and
I would ask Santa for just one real kiss,
on Christmas, from Vicki, my only babay!

Merry Christmas, Babay!
I do love you!

Strawberry lips, capable, voluptuous
Shapely hips, body sumptuous
Vanilla cream skin, soft, inviting
Fingers squeezing, feeling, igniting
Tongue flicking, teeth biting
Blood pumping, flesh writhing
Tangled bodies, spirits, lives
Pleading, teasing, seducing eyes
Limbs reaching, groping, pleasing
Panting faster, shallow breathing
Oh God, don't stop!
Screams, gasps, ecstasy, pop

I enjoy the faintest touch
of my lips on your brow in the morn'
            Your angel sleeping face deserves
to know how I creep out tiptoe
              on my way to work
remembering in all my fiber
          all energized
last night, and the night before,
           and every moment since we met
nights and mornings
         and every
gentle kiss.

one different
leaf
red when others were
green
hung on a lone branch  far below the glow

in shade and obscured
this red leaf survived
until autumn
when all the other leaves
turned to her

And turned red
asked
if they could climb down
and join her.

Silent in winds breeze their
answer came as they fell
free from branches
fluttered to the ground.

This different leaf clung
and felt so sorry so alone
felt the breeze
but never belonged
and wanting to

let go of her limb
wafted down
and joined those
in destiny
now, the same color,
brown.

A volt or amperage an ampule injected not grounded
a spasm or epiphany a reckoning
encompasses
I melt voltaically into
warmth and jolt
concurrently metered
by hair standing on ends
legs arms nethers
convulsing
like two phased
polarity
not grounded!
I short out,
positively!

I hate the way you hold cigarettes
and how you never drunk text me
at 3am. I want to be the person you
think of when a sloppy drunkard
is kissing you at a bar. His breath
rank with stale stogies, light beer,
and cheap whiskey. He uses way too
much tongue and swears his ****
won’t fit in a ******. He couldn’t
spell ******* and even if he uses
his fingers, it’s not enough to make you
***. I hate bad lovers and that’s all
I imagine you with. Dudes who say
“wanna play just the tip?” and other
lame *** **** because nobody ever
told them “ladies first” and you have
to stimulate the ****.

-to a very special guy out there, love ya J-

The way you greet me every morning
the way you think about me...
it blows my mind how someone
so intangible
thinks about ME of all people...
it makes me flush red,
and one comment
puts me in ecstasy for the whole day,
and nothing can bring me down.

You.
One simple word that makes my brain explode in ways unthinkable,
with memories of
sweet peppermint breezes,
shivers that run down my spine,
sounds of a high, all the yelling around the house now muted,
or just really cheery, chipper unheard of before this.
I hope we can make more memories.

Maybe I'm not the best.
Maybe I'm not good enough for you.

But when you talk to me,
all those worries scatter away.
You make it so that I'll think of you in my every thought,
I can't stop.
I can't eat, just thinking about you makes me full.
I'll wake up refreshed and ready to go to school with just a simple thought of whats awaiting me today  -  you.
I might be aimlessly reading, but my mind will drift to you.

Hopefully it's not just me
but
I love you.

beauty this vision a blessed
blossom on a wispy stem
swaying
glows in the dawn glares in the dusk,
beauty is blindness,
love is mortal,
I lust
for beauty and
blessed
ephemeral
meaning.

by
us.

~Christi Michaels~12/2014~
   ☆⊙☆⊙☆⊙☆

you with an onion
in the palm of your hand
pulling back layers
seeing just who I am

removing the papery
outer shell
the flesh beneath
holding slight color tan

folding back the next
begining to understand
sweet juicy onion
cradled
in the palm of your hand

brave to peel 
the next layer
spicey as onions can be
a tear begins to form
a tear just for me

now you are intoxicated
as only an onion can do
you pull back again
translucent flesh
coming through

sweeter and sweeter
I become
as you genlty find my core
you've settled in
found your way
what a delectable
delicious score

  ☆⊙☆⊙☆⊙☆
Copyright © 2014 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.

You look at me.
I look at you.
The heat rises.
Arousal is overpowering.
The nausea begins.
You ask, ‘Shall we?’
And, I blush, wondering if eternity will come together at least this time;
Going against my celibacy of a year,
Bowing to the blushing nausea of the routine arousal of a forgotten yesterday,
Awkwardly I crawl on the bed, sliding closer to you.
I sit on your lap.
I feel your ******* in between my thighs.
I rhythmically move with closed eyes.
Blushing, I open my eyes to look at your long black curls.
I cup your long brown beard in my moist palms
My eyes meet yours and they stutter, scatter and flutter.
Blushing, with halp open eyes and wide open *****,
I ****** my jumpsuit harder on your hard-on.
Your hands wary over my ***** and I clench my fist slowly over your manhood.
Suddenly, I become faster than you.
I kiss you madly, rub your beard over my tender cheeks and almost bruised lips.
You pause.
I don’t see you no more.
I heat up.
I remember kissing your manhood, loving it, eating it and  nibbling it for what seemed to be forever,
Until I choked.
Paused.
The clothes are gone.
And you pulled me by my hair.
Bent my waist before I could grasp a glance  of your rugged beard,
Of your sour kiss,
And, then it was just thrusts. And thrusts. And Thrusts.
And a million more thrusts.
After an eternity of an endless void,
It pulsated inside.
I felt a mild tingle.
Nothing much.
Nothing heavy.
Nothing shivering, to me.
To you as well.
It seemed strange.
And then you were out.
And then you were gone.
I dripped.
I dried.
I spilled.
And, I oathed that I will be celibate for the rest of my life,
Again.
Because you grow upper, and upper,
You forgot to make love.
You forgot to kiss me.
You forgot to look into my eyes.
You forgot to caress my hips.
You forgot to clench your nails into my neck
Because the ground does not move anymore.
To let me see the passion in your eyes when you're inside me,
Because there is no more passion left of this copulation.
This coitus is a blank frustration and none more.
It is just a routine now.
It will just be a routine again.
I swallow the pink-butterfly pill.
And I know, that this nausea
This arousal
Will enslave me the next time as well.
And next time too,
It will never be the same as I moan in my solitary void,
Feeling the tingle in my crotch,
Awaiting a warmth,
Tingles, and all the other fantasies.
I will just stand, stare, hope and die without the holy tingle,
And you will too.
We are just jaded, and Jade till it all dims to an oblivion of a momentary jade.