the build up of intensity,
visions of passion,
and i finally understand what it means:
what love is, what love means, who I love.
it's all you and it's all about you;
love is all, love is you.
teenage love or adult love,
whichever one it doesn't matter
because you're my personification of love,
under most of Him.
you are my definition of love.
im throbbing for you
and it’s crazy how you make me feel.
im jerking, and im tugging on your shirt,
“the submissive doesn’t question her dominant,” you grin.
“no, a bratty submissive does.”
“a bratty submissive gets a spanking.”
he hit me and it felt like a kiss,
he spanked me and it felt like a hug,
and then he hit me again and i was glad.
i still beg for more,
and he spanked me as i laid over his knee.
the first hit felt like hell, then it felt like heaven.
and since it feels so good,
you continue and you kiss my cheeks
with your sweet pink lips.
both of my brown cheeks
turn as red as strawberry jelly
and you say i've been a real bad girl who needs more punishing.
i’m starting to think that if i was your little girl,
you’d do whatever you could do
to make sure i was safe and warm and happy.
you’d put your finger on my tongue
because you’d know how i’d love the taste.
you’d run away and hide with me.
But our bodies makes noises when we are not around
Crack of the arctic knuckles crack
-The whip on the horse to make it go faster
-The egg on the bowl to keep your hands clean
-The dawn that splices through skinny windows crack
I have noticed our Shadows
How they snap on the sidewalk
Like high-heeled claps and click
Went my back when I stretched
And I remember when this first started
And I asked if I could lean on your shoulder sweet spot
And I did for a while
And resting next to your throat was noisy
And we don't do that anymore
And I don't do that anymore
There you go, that familiar sound
(that same old sigh, that ticklish taunt, that numb noise - croaky crack)
You would think "Anymore"
Is a blah word
Because that is what my feet said
You are not around anymore
Our bodies aren't on speaking terms.
my heart aches
when i think of your face
but only because of the could've beens.
what could have been if you'd liked me back
what could have been if we had dated
what could have been if you loved me.
i ache and mourn those could've beens
because my heart thinks they should've been
but they weren't.
bathing in the sun’s glow, sleeping on the moon’s side;
your ocean eyes have flecks of four leaf clovers in them
and your sable strands are disheveled
and i’ve never wanted to kiss you more than i do now
as i eye the beauty mark on the left side above your lip.
you keep me sane, you make me feel everything at once
and it’s nice, the nice kind of affection.
something that’s a little softer; makes my dreams reality
and keeps me grounded.
it’s a new kind of feel --
makes me crave your touch to the point where i need to feel your lips
and stroke every strand on your fair head.