My husband won’t have *** with me
Although he’s fine sending pics to his friends.
He cherishes their reactions.
Always at my expense.

I’m stuck hiding in the shower
To get myself alone.
The only time I can scream in pleasure
Is whenever he isn’t home.

I’m starting to feel like I’m not pretty.
So I sext strangers online.

My husband won’t have *** with me.
I don’t know why this is.
So all I have are fantasies.
Of me and all his friends.

Your body entangled in mine,
          your careless whispers singing in my ears.
                    While your touch sending goosebumps,
                                    up and down and my spine.

your intensity brought out the wild flowers

‪They play. ‬
The fingers when they slip into your hands, snuggling gently into their warmth reminding why touch isn’t always a screen that turns bright with fever, yet never turns on.

They feel.
The fingers when they slide into the countless caresses rippling down your pretty head, only parting so gently to reveal the forehead glistening with sweat and love.

They tease
The fingers when they ski over your naked skin revealing the tender pores in the slow shiverings and infinitesimal bumps that raise their Lilliputian heads and come alive.

They sing
The fingers when they feel your flirty lips and the tongue looking to mate darts out, to speak of stories that lie hidden behind the brightest shades stroked to life with perfumed wax.

They mate
The fingers when they feel your shivering thighs and explore the depth of your love making you moan in disbelief, figuring out what makes you love who you love and spill it all over.

Life used to flow freely,
it used to be full to the brim.
It slept peacefully flowing through my veins.

But now it is awake,
and a fuming fire is born between us.
By the glance of an eye,
and the touch of lips.

he begets
fullness
of a tremor

steals a
touch
then it's lost

dew on blooms
gleam
dissolve

focused
vibration
passes

lips pause
barest
trace

kiss of
warm breeze
on still day

more sought
courted
met

frenzied tension
slowly rising
heralds

smiling dance
cells in naïve
cacophony

Addicted, I joke of my obsession
Obsessed? I laugh at it’s truth
Live life, move on, go on
It will come around, I know
One day this building will fall on top of me
Crumbling me under the rocks
But I am addicted to whats inside
I cannot let it go
The smell, the taste, the feel
Most of all.. The adrenaline.
It hits and holds, like a drug better than any other
No need for pills or syringes.
No smoke or bowl to pack
Just a mental addiction for physical pleasure
I cannot stop, I cannot stop, I cannot let go