I dreamed of your kiss;
Not once, but twice.
Maybe more.
I'm sure, more.
So nice.

I'm awakened. Heart racing.  
Smile swelling, from inside.
Breath escapes.
******* aches.
Soul cries.

I must have you.
Not maybe; must.
Love grows.
Yes, grows.
Accompanying, lust.

Not so much lust.
*** dripping from my ****.
But passion.
Soul-filled passion.
Awaiting by the clock.

When will that be?
When dreams become reality.
I crave. (You. Have. No. Idea.)
******* CRAVE. (Is all I could say).
As a song must have melody.

I pulled you close.
Our bodies formed; my lap.
Laying you back; embrace.
****** embrace.
My hands; your map.

A giggle with neck kisses.
Anticipation; the next.
Hair brushes. Head turns.
Yes, turns.
Eyes meet. No longer perplexed.

No dream could be so sweet;
As mine and my babe's swelling lips.
Smooth sliding. Delicate velvet quivering, still.
Our tongues kneading.
No. Needing. Hands grip, hips and nips. Quenching drips.

The beckoning dreams began our calling;
The Kiss, connecting two lost souls into one.
Fiery passion.
Our lovely adventurous passion.
Prelude, the friendship.
Chapter One ending as your tongue tastes my ***.

Chapter Two is being written by us, lovely madam.
I shall inform.

Sincerely,
Your Kind Sir

A glance. Then another.
Where a thousand smiles,
and laughter, hiding, finally found light;
Though lips moved no more than eyes.

Caught. Captured. Drawn in.
Like inescapable black hole gravity,
Taking us to an unknown realm;
The start of a glorious adventure;
A destiny we've always known.

In late nights, where questions became our partner;
Where longing had become our friend;
Where songs of Mississippi blues origins,
Teased; mocked, our souls;
Laughter, passion, shared thought,
Replaced them with answers.

We found memories that have yet to happen;
Comfort, yet to exist.
Tenderness, following seizured passions,
Burned audacious passions within our chests.
Fallacious reasoning?  Imprudent coordinates plotted?
Not from the pilot's seat;
Mind; heart; spirit; guided the inevitable course of your soul's smiling gaze.

Now we are lost again;
Unsure of which path to take;
Questions as our company; longings as our friends.
Is it unfair to wonder? To wish? To dream?
Is that only torture? The life unseen?  
The passions,  only distractions from past and present obligations?
Were we stealing away what wasn't ours?
Or are the choices of the past, stealing away from us?

I know I can't answer those questions,
Sitting with my old friend, the blues, strumming;
haunting twangs in darkness; without laughter; without passion;
with your thoughts frozen and alone.
I think; I feel, I know. Yet your late night friends are a part.
They murmur quietly, indiscernibly; as if unstudied answers on a test.
Ones you feel you know; but frightened too much for rest.
It all could have been just one more life quiz;
To redirect our life's journey; asking what we shall miss.
If that be the purpose; no regrets will have claws.

I'll cherish the connection;
I'll remember the glance;
The smile of your soul has sparked in me, again;
A passion for a chance I'd hidden as if not wanted for fear of loss.
And though it might seem crazy, as weirdness abounds my being;
I DO feel loss. I DO miss memories unseen; swaying dances unrealized.
Yet, the silliness of pain is tolerable. I'll sleep again someday;
And dreams awakened, once lost, will guide our way (s?).

--Shane Bowles

Rooting Home

She crumbled, exhausted.
     Lost to unresponsive paralysis.
Movement limited to deep gasps of breath,
     Soul spinning the universe.

She knows not where; a struggle to root.

"For, if I continue, I'll surely die."
     On her back, for how long? How hard?
Thoughts replaced by feeling.
     His breath. The back of her neck, he slides inside;

Rooting his soul, her's returns home. "This is hard."

"Very hard! Faster, Baby!! Fire, Passion, Love. Bring me home!!!"

-Shane Bowles.

His Anaïs Nin-THE MUSE
     Of ****** Souls.

Glancing up from her pipe,
    She saw his gazing to her face.
Eyes connect, she almost freezes in
     bewilderment. Exhaling, lips rise at his, she knows his thoughts.  They
     are her own.

Lighting the Camel, face flickering,
     As the campfire drifts,
Giving way to the glow of the distant
     horizon of the ocean,
He moves his lips to her  neck;
     Lifts her to the blue Ford.

"Dance primal for me, baby.
     These shorts are not needed.
I'll throw dollars you way;
     Or I'll love you forever, for now.
Or eternity. But I must taste you.
     Share every drop of my...
       warm...juice.

That's beautiful. I see you."
     The creases where they should be.
"Glistening slit, where I probe to touch
     your soul; where pain, itself,
Feels the sword, as intensely
     As, deeply, as you feel my ****.

May I join you?" Dance the stars.
     Sway, embraced, bodies toasting,
Celebrating survival; of themselves, the stars,
     Glowing, feeling all their fire burning,
A tingle, a hot chill, moistening her libia minora;
      Now sliding, anticipating his tongue;
Inviting his bell shaped head; come inside,
      find me.

Climbing, standing, rod throbbing, grazing mons *****,
     Precum drips across a tiny patch of hair.
Pulling her, ******* titillate on his chest.
     He kisses her softly, passion deepens; tongues, as well.
I want you. I need you inside me. **** me until I can't move?
     **** my breast, my primal beast. Bite them.

I'll almost ***. You'll pulse at that, then drip.
    Give me that, baby. I need your *** on my ****;
Mixing with my cream, a perfect solution;
     Smooth glide of life. Put your fingers inside.
Stretch my walls. I'll touch my ****,
      My *** covered fingers. My tongue in your mouth.

He grabs her firmly; spins her around.
      His soaking head slips down her crevice;
Across her ****; it tightens, wantinglly,
     Yet like her soul, timidly afraid. This might hurt...
A bit. But if she doesn't have him,
      She will sure die from crave, curiosity, what ifs.

"I'm coming, baby", she cries,
     Distant figures, walking the beach,
With eyes to dilated for detail, see a shadow push,
     Another shadow give and lean,
Over the hood of a truck, banned from the beach.
     They suspect. They do not know...

She is shaking; trembling; pulsating...*******:
     Whimpering, "Please **** me, baby."
Arching a perfect ***, with a dimple he knows intimately,
     She feels his head massage her ***** lips,
Slightly dipping inside. Then "OH MY GOOD GOD!!!
      I...can't...breath!....I...can't...I'm still *******!  

I...can't....oh GOD!  Deeper baby!  I'm gonna *** again...AAHHH..."
     Pushing deeply. Retracting. Slamming.
"Faster!  That ****'s yours!  Just ******* take it!!!"
     **** me!  ****.....ME. **** ME...TO....DEATH!!!!"
She shares her lovely juices, the length of his ****.
    
     The sun illuminati. Not man's, but pure truth.
Now, most assuredly exposed, both the couple
     And ten early morning beach strollers;
He slides out, still strong. Still hard. Very wet.
     To take her up the trembling ***.

"It does hurt, my love. My **** and my soul.
     Be gentle. Tender. Move slowly.
For now. Protect me. Love me.
    Then *** in my depths. I am your muse.

Cycle

The end of the beginning.
The beginning of end.
This endless cycle that causes my sin.

The greatest guy.
A worthless ****.
Who am I? Where do I fit?

Sunshine. Rain.
Glory. Shame of pain.
Giving all. Then taking the cane.

Strike me when I want too much,
with silence of what I need to hear.
I'm so strong. Paralyzed with fear.

There's every answer. None.
I ponder if it's just in fun.
But reality needs gun control.

Is there nothing more,
Than round and round?
Is this the only love we've found?

Is it love? I can't tell.
But the smell, the touch,
The laughter is hell.

I want more. It doesn't exists.
You'd think so with that kiss.
It's just a tease to miss.

Intelligence intertwined with stupidity.
We both are enlightened idiots.
Knowing the way; choosing the other path.

Aftermath, my sin; is it your holiness?
When I'm broken, you're complete?
When I'm whole, you're in sin?

I see everything perfectly.
And not at all.
Chaos abounds my head, heart and soul.

Just passion. That's all.
For you. For self.
Building an ice castle that protects; that your words melt.

Cycle.
Where do we get off?
The end of the beginning or the beginning of end?

I've been fairly great, comfortable. I've been thinking of this as just another day for weeks. But it's here. Being a alone is no fun. I went to my brothers. Lots of people there. Even had I known them, I'd still feel alone. I have this place in my mind that rationalizes the excuses I've heard and even given myself. Everyone is justified. The excuses, I had every reason; all others as equal. But it doesn't pour into the emptiness. It doesn't patch the holes; the gaps that keep everyone who has held our heart, now cold; a little glow hiding deep that we can't extinguish or lose ourselves, our sanity, our control if we ever took that one step that'd warm us enough to restart a fire that we know would burn our soul, not sure in which way. I'd die; I'd finally live. Idk. I've no idea. Can't truly give anything a chance, certainly not a second or more times. Not sure I mean someone, though Carly crosses my mind. But you, the better, and then the rest that poured a cup or two in this gallon hole. I miss you all. I miss you. I miss not fake smiling, inwardly fighting crying all the time. Which way care and love, dreaming of the same, we all ****** up.  *****, too much to know we have anything of value, narcissistic just the same. Negatives we'd love if we knew the why. There part of the very essence of, hidden, the very reason we love. Do they answer a question we have asked for years about who we are?  But the vision not clear enough; frustrations abound, expanding the expanse, "it's their fault, my fault, doesn't matter...loneliness just ******* sux."
I miss....
Not that it matters; just another day.
I'll be just fine tomorrow