"breathy" poems
who is this
husky?
shedding luck and fur
down by the horizon.
town tips in snow
& breathy-fog.
the mountain tips and prays
on bowed-knee,
to daughters in pursuit of happiness,
& trees.
she’s out there looking for the best in mother
madness.
a horse’s bangs, sprung
moon to ridge
to purpling autumn-seared fields four days lit.
this ease into living,
carousel,
carnival of lights
& love.
the rolling of a family unit.
the sound and punched beauty of it.
like when we were birds, or kids, or
humming the sun
strummed hills.
[ catch a dream. ]
open your little eyes, bear cub.
see small pools of sulphurous heat
& repeat,
let go the smoke to breathe.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
.
Each morning I rise unto hours,
Wheeling in sun, with wee wild flowers.
An hearty wish, on hills by the sea
Each day I skip about live stones,
In winds I run, deep dancing my bones.
I am made of each, cairn on hillocky
Each sweep of air a breathy kiss,
On skyline by the sea, one mighty bliss.
Dancing my bones, in winds I run
Each hour a new turning of page,
Each heap on hill, of these I am made.
Wild wee flowers, wheeling in the sun
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 12:52 AM UTC
I dropped by my favorite place today, released another exhausted breath. My pants were bulging out and the fat kept me stretched out. I hate that feeling. My stomach turned into billowy waves of expectant marks, pinning through my outer skin. I hate that feeling. When I sit, my thigh provokes every nerve in my body. If she has thoughts, she'll be a demon whispering through the wind. My unkempt hair is spinning around like gravity does not exist. Somehow, I failed to sigh out the black smoke forming all over my body. My skin, when pinched, is like soft straps that cannot be withdrawn from their owner. My skin is like the skin of my ancestor—it keeps stretching widely, tirelessly, and unprovoked. My heart is tightening its grasp on me. God, please help me! My eyes! I swallowed all my tears away, but my reflection still reflects the dark hue of the moon. When it is sad, the moon exposes his true nature, just like rolled down skins on my neck. My hands go from gently holding my heart out of my chest to weighing the weight of my body. If I let out my thick heart, my body would be lighter and my skin would be a plethora of scars and clay. If I abandon thee and such a calloused body, art will find me beautiful, and that is one of the moon's other sides. It's thick and uncooked. The heavens may not forsake an insecure moon, but a woman hates her reflection when the moonlight lights on her flesh. "Mirror, mirror on the wall..." I called and they did not answer. I froze in my seat and waited until the sun bloomed and dried my tears. Yet I still could not breathe. I went into the sea and swam with the lonely whales. The sun reflected on the waters. I reached letter fourteen, but it was written by someone else. The ambience of the calm ocean washed over me. I released a breathy sigh, and the light went to take me.
Feb 1, 2022
Feb 1, 2022 at 1:28 PM UTC
The trellis of oak trees winked,
captured my soul in a spinney,
chalked whispers of free promises
breathy like a silken shawl trailing
Those wise men of old, withered
skin of bark, tall and strong, waving
their introduction. They bowed to me
in free form, in humble escapism.
Sun had stroked their warm palms,
fed them sweet sap. To my left a
stray leaf, rested amid invisibility,
caught the air train, and spiralled free.
Twizzled to the green painted rug
basking under my cotton covered feet.
Reaching out, it blew away,
I chased the freedom fields.
The brook teased it and set
sail under the woody bridge,
green from seasonal tears.
Lost sight as it spun the space
between us. The grass sprung
its beginnings in full Spring, tall in parts,
summer not yet wrapped and
ready to visit us, much less
invited to the summer ball
where shadows are ten a penny,
and sunshine bought on every
street corner. I am among spring
devoured in daffodil eiderdowns,
elbowing out the crocus, snowdrop
chandeliers. I seagull my way,
swaying in step with willow, blossoming
surprising myself, how I let go of
school day shivers, tinkering my brain
into gear for terms talking tightness,
cramming commas, fat full stops.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
Lay rest your flashing glaze of wishes
Down received for a moment
Breathy bow lifts to hold
and waver across few measures
Sienna and topaz
Sienna and topaz
Singe and simmer
Shine and glimmer against
All the thoughts born and dead
What makes you eager to rise
If it is not sensing gone away stories
or nursing the aches that lunge through anywhere else but here
While you replay and delay all creation
the blossoming goes unseen
She, the maiden is reigning
Une palais à remplir
Une palais à remplir
where she is her own queen
Her oceans made of no time channel open mouths
flooding its spill
She waded into The archer
Downed in his own vessel he mistook himself the pilot of
He, marooned in the surrender of damp and fertile places
where in Death he is still recovering
Soldiering and sullen
Soldiering and sullen
He is choking, and can not stop to see or savor the blossoms rising from his own till
Jan 5, 2022
Jan 5, 2022 at 9:03 PM UTC
Blue eyes watching. Blushing at the sight at the very thought. Flushed with emotion. Hearts beating so fast and hard. Deafening rhythmic beating. Quivering at the thought of what may be next. Hoping it will be so, yet afraid of what is to come. Self-conscious and embarrassed, time stretches on. Not wanting the moment to pass. Holding on hard to the idea. A soft, almost accidental, brush of the lips. A light, absentminded gliding of the finger on the skin. Systems heightened, mind swimming, emotions running rampant, temperature rising. Taken by surprise the lips plant firmly yet gently. A breathy moan leaves no doubt.
Sighs tell a story
Opening the door to play
And so it begins
Tentatively, lips touch. So sweet and delicate the dance. Welcoming, beckoning to be entered. Warm and wet they go exploring, tasting, breathing in the essence of desire. Doubt gives way to fire, and passion wins out. Piece by piece the offering is made and accepted. The game continues. Silently daring to be outdone. First one button, then another. Heat rises. Smooth skin under rough hands. Electricity. Fingers trace a line that the tongue follows. Closer, closer, closer. Involuntary movement brings skin against skin, breath against breath, body against body.
Minds lost to passion
Floods come to drown the desert
Drink til thirst is quenched
The hand once afraid to touch, briefly runs the length of its desire. Like a volcano letting off steam. Embers turn into an inferno consuming all it comes near. Floodgates opened, beckoning. Waters tested. There is no denial, no second thoughts, no rewind. Short gasps of need, punctuated by the sounds of the flesh. Glistening in the moonlight, two outlines become one.
No more wondering
The question has been answered
Hearts have been traded
There are no thoughts left to ponder. In this moment there is only those eyes. Those blue eyes that pierce the soul, that see right through the words. Lips removed from lips. Watching the moment. Waiting for its impending arrival. Fingers grasp tightly as they pull against the skin. Trying to melt into each other. They dig in a little too hard, the sounds are a little too loud. Inhibitions lost on the wind. No longer able to hold back.
And in that moment
There is only perfection
Nothing else matters
Dec 23, 2010
Dec 23, 2010 at 11:51 PM UTC
seeds spread by whirlybirds
couples who take on thirds
love flying everywhere
trusted not and the scared
a puff, a blow, and then you go
fuzzy flight to and fro
**** ball picked and his wish
to feast upon a dreamy dish
yet a breathy breeze decides
where scattering of seed shall hide
in the fields, or cracks of pavements
lovers bound in their enslavements
to one another's dreams
dandelion dreams it seems
always never completely fulfilled
dandelion will be tilled
from immaculate and pristine lawn
or in a forest by a fawn
nourishment it is for me
its root bound deep, not free
like those dandelion seeds
rest my head upon cement
men I've met will not lament
sprouts doubts of dandelion's needs
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 11:30 AM UTC
there was no poem neath my pillow
no poem on my tongue, none from eye envisionaries, no dew gift from my grassy emissaries, parting residue of an unknowable finger touch
nothing stirring, the mother muses mushing their shushing noises,
only breathy quietude, an airy surround sound tissue,
the cadence of intermingled hearts, the mother and the child
two awakenings, one instantaneous, the other restless unhurried slow, but within an impatience to intersect,
the overlap is love stars crossing,
impatience weaponized to make
momma aware her companions refreshed status,
a needy for love’s suckling,
embrace of fresh baked smiles from hot heartedly hearth furnaces
thus a-born a new poem, a welcomed well coming, in words,
the alliance of alliterated words from the interlacing of the mother’s chest heaving and the sniffling joy of a five year old boy reimagining the dreams that crossed from mother to son, and back again, requiring composition and joint authorship of them
*the only and only true authentic authorship,
mother and child, their owned unique
duality of singularity*
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 2:30 PM UTC
this is where you
own our love
purse your lips and
twist mine
because I am the one who has
to sleep without
you no compromise
you said
as I ran my feet
over
the smooth 12,000
threads but no
body
even the patter of the
rain can’t soothe
it hits my face
in horizontal
crosswind and I sit in
that same fold out
chair on the porch
looking out across the park
at the children playing
in puddles
now when I think of
your highlighted jaw line
I am truly gaping at
the mirror that shiny
shiny reflection where my
eyes pop blue
and I’m magnetized at
your breathy yawn
what’s in your head?
what caused this
boiling
this cream that
settled on my coffee?
actually
already
easily
I am forgetting
interestingly
intriguingly
amazingly
you still taste sweet
when I blast music
in my car and then I hear
myself uttering
thank you.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
A long time ago
Unicorns roamed the earth
They were ugly
And dumb
And did not know fear
Did not feel the need to use their horns for anything
They were fat
They smelled bad
Like an open wounded staph infection
They did not even taste good
To other animals or humans
But there was this boy who loved to watch them graze with his pet turtle Rusty
He watched and listened
The Unicorns did not neigh so much as they screamed high pitch and breathy
Into each other’s mouths
They made no sense
It was beautiful to him that things that made no sense
Could exist without reason
And there be nothing wrong with that
Rusty would walk around them
A turtle’s pace
And graze
Occasionally bite at an ankle
It made him feel strong
To cause such a big animal pain
And slink away unscathed
No one will ever see the way such a proud turtle walks
As the way Sparky did
Head so high
His neck did not look like ******** skin
The boy also watched them die
Watched as the men in his tribe led them to a nearby valley
Where they would smash the unicorn’s head in with rocks
The animals just stood there
Not understanding what was being done to them
The boy felt like a unicorn then
When his father hit him
He felt dumb
Dumb in the heart
Dumb in the brain
Dumb in the body
For continuing to stay
The boy cried as the last unicorn died
His father said that soon everyone would forget that something so ugly lived
The boy understood
So he went to nearby caves
Where all the gay tribe boys go
Because in hunter gatherer societies
Boys who did not work were gay
They did what makes them happy
That is why it is called gay
In the caves he would draw the unicorns
He made them beautiful
And intelligent
With blood that healed wounds
And horns that if stabbed you
Would cause the most beautiful death
When all this ugly is gone
People will tell stories about us
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
Breathe the silk impression of this skin pressed into you,
Infuse my dreams with reality.......rose
Strip me, one sense at a time;
Touch me...
Touch me...mould me into your open arms...
Paint me with the trail of your tongue....
I will dance for you,
Slow
Body sways, that beg you heed
My hips whisper of fiery petals, leading you
To temptation's gate...
A savoured decadence,
Your shape shadowing mine,
Lowering into my waiting arms
Skin upon skin...
Run the tip of your tongue along my spine
Ride my pulse higher,
Wash over me
Leave me wet and wanting
And I will devour you with my hungry mouth...
My probing tongue,
Surface scanning your skin,
Delicious...
I will sink beneath your hidden desires
My playground, here inside your sighs...
Envelope my breathy willingness,
Awaken to your addiction in devils thighs...
Sip my liquid gift
And know, I burn....
I burn for you....
My soft glisten, a pout upon swayed surrender,
Melted beneath a ride of skin,
Craving....craving always the singe that
Trembles these silky strands...
Your electric essence,
Painted red... mind hungry,
Where eyegasms impregnate the heart of this woman.................rose
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
These kinds of stories are hard to find.
I posted up in a bar between
nowhere and a town named Ida
(probably named after some
sweetheart, that old southern name),
and in the characteristic openness
that I can only find during my travels,
I decided to say,
"hey stranger."
It was early in the evening,
he was a traveler too,
but of the trucking sort,
ashen eyes and
pale breathy skin,
we got talking amid
electric neon glow and
the pale blue light
that shown in through the rain.
His name didn't matter,
I won't tell you his name,
but the truckers know thumbers
(there are 5000 or so
across the country
at any given time),
and so he told me of a thumber.
This thumber was in the thunder,
clothes torn and eyes wide,
and with a mind that was,
at that point especially,
oblivious to the solidity
of the dry towel that was
set on the solid truck seat,
and, what a mess this boy was,
so by appearance, I presume,
it was easy to ask,
"what in the hell happened to you?"
It went like this:
the thumber turned those
wide open eyes
(I imagine he was shivering),
and told of how he was
walking, backpack and all,
and of how he smelled a storm
approaching, how when he
saw the treetops bending,
he expected the rain and
pulled a waterproof cover
over his pack just in time,
it started pouring.
This time the thumber,
he said he knew he had to
keep going,
he said he didn't like rolling
dice, no, he said it was a cheat
because if you knew enough
about throwing die the die
land the same, they land
the same enough.
So,
listen, have you ever
walked through heavy rain?
You get dizzy, but
in some deep part of your mind
in the spray, the insurmountable
lukewarmness stealing
a little with each blow,
you lose yourself,
and that's what I imagine
happened to this thumber.
At one point, the thumber
knew ground no more,
that's all he said. He said
he landed one county
over, that's all he said.
And by the jingling
of the die hanging
from the truck's rearview mirror,
one of the truckers laughed
and said ********
as the story of the thumber
came around,
what in all hell else could
you say?
And the thumber wiggled
his head and gave a queer
sneeze.
Against the neon glow
I peered at the trucker,
you can't tell an honest
man by his eyes but
you can tell it by his breath.
I shook my head and said,
"that's a kind of story that's
hard to find."
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:00 AM UTC
Your expert fingers gently
strum and pluck at my strings
Making every inch of me sing.
My body thrums
With each staccato beat
And goosebumps ***** my skin as we race towards the crescendo.
The music peaks
And beautifully tuned notes entwine
In heart-stopping harmony.
Your bass blends
With my soprano
In a perfect balance of tone and pitch.
In the stillness that follows
The music fades
Into a duet of breathy sighs.
And then we :||
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
In the orange cream dying sun's half light
swaddled by blankets wrapped in ***** clothes
I open my lips wanting your taste
eye to eye, mons ***** warm fragrance
To offer myself and soul over completely
When we were young did you ever think
we'd drown in the ocean of flesh between legs?
She smiled brightly, made noises
overjoyed much more than confused,
though that's not the story now, is it?
In an instant passion rises up with steam
gone again before I wipe the mirror and
brush my teeth, and once again I see
blackened debris, they're rotting out
from misspoke verbs
All that's sweet now is the imagining
of diabetic what once was
Two closed eyes reach back with a breathy sigh
withheld truths and well meant half lies,
cannot inspire lift again that left me,
but that doesn't stop the faithful
Has the tide this whole time been sending
waves of false hope, on which I'm floating?
Daydreaming, heating oil, she wants dinner,
and I hunger for satisfaction in new pictures
A hand for a finger, a tongue from both mouths
comforting by grabbing hungrily
until heads get thrown back, abs tighten
when pressed to relax, on the rack
stretched but both floating
Why does she want to drink my blood?
I don't ask just imbibe in return
Those days are long gone
Times when the worst thoughts could not undo
whatever flicker remains in the waning brazier's ember
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 7:43 AM UTC
Hair adorned
with rainbow glee
good tidings brought
to noble thee
Bones are weary
thoughts are cloudy
heart is heavy
sighs are breathy
But on this day
the snow is thick
the days are long
with brightening sun
And your radiance gleams
like dragon's treasure
tucked away in secrecy
your beauty and its measure
For love you have
to share in oodles
soft as silk and satin
warm, like labradoodles
You give of yourself
and want for nothing
so here it comes
a day of wonder
For today you were born
and continue to live
continue to fight
continue to give
So receive instead
these joyous words
to thank you for you
for being a friend
Though life is heavy
and the snow layers thick
your smile lights the world
and in our minds, stick
May 14, 2024
May 14, 2024 at 1:05 PM UTC
I stepped into the house and removed
my rain-soaked shoes on the grizzled entrance mat.
No one in the kitchen.
Though the aroma lingered, the coffee *** had turned itself off.
I touched the glass -- cool.
No one in the living room.
Half a pair of sequined flats were in the dog's mouth,
half a lady's pantsuit -- the black legs -- lied on the floor.
A soap opera on the screen, the volume low, the gold-tipped ceiling fan oscillating,
and Serge Gainsbourg's Histore de Melody Nelson played down the hall.
I followed the breathy vocals and wandering baseline to my room,
and there she sat.
The blinds open, veiny rain running along the pane,
on the beige carpeted floor, next to my unmade bed,
criss-crossed Jessica.
"Hey, sweetheart," I said.
Jessica smiled.
When she smiles, her cheeks go flush,
she lowers her head slowly, embarrassed,
but yet when she laughs,
she laughs loudly, boldly.
I've never understood that.
Jessica was wearing a white, spaghetti-strap undershirt
and blue cotton *******
Her brunette curls -- down, reaching past her shoulders.
Her toenails -- painted purple and chipped.
Newspapers lied strewn about her,
with puddles of acrylic paint atop them.
In her lap,
a white canvas stapled to a wooden backing frame.
She sang,
*"Princesse des ténèbres, archange maudit,
Amazone modern' style que le sculpteur,
En anglais, surnomma Spirit of Ecstasy."*
as she painted two lovers growing together
like curious oak trees.
I sat behind her on my bed. Pushed aside the tangled sheets.
She craned her neck to kiss my cheek sweetly.
"How was your day?" I asked.
"Oh, who cares," she responded.
Her eyebrows lifted, her fingertips traced my thigh,
"Tell me something beautiful."
"What?"
She dipped her paintbrush in red, in white and applied them
to the lovers' lips.
"Tell me something beautiful."
"I can't think of anything," I said.
"Try."
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 12:03 AM UTC
Hundreds of words lived inside of me,
Swirling about my brain.
I wanted to spill them at your feet, truly I did.
Adjectives burned my tongue and
Tiny verbs danced about my stomach.
They laughed furiously
Until all that was left were encrypted sonnets,
that dug down deep,
Burrowing inside a place they were sure to be safe.
You wanted to read them,
Instead I swallowed them whole.
I did tell you once.
I told you everything through breathy prayers
But you never heard
Because you were asleep.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC
we are two trees
lilts of speech
and
soft tapping tendrils played on
stringéd instruments
that is our water supply
intense lashéd eye contact
wrapping our long legs and aching arms around
each other's anatomy
that is our sunshine
heavy, breathy sighs
and long, slithering **********
that is our photosynthesis
grow with me
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
Pine needles in my head
Snowbird starts to fly
A want of apricity
Enters my blood stream
Like lukewarm sea water
Enters hiemal streams
I'm sprawled facedown
An angel or so
Below the snow
The taste of frost
Technically wintergreen
From your breathy kiss
Hinting at a return
To rays of affection
And the crush of limbs
Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 9:10 AM UTC
I saw her at the diner
She caught my eye right from the start
It wasn't too long after
That this woman caught my heart
She didn't fit in with the people
Drinking coffee , eating up
She was drinking with her pinkie out
As she held her coffee cup
She's was high class in a low class world
That was plain as plain could be
I wanted to be in her world
And I wanted her with me
She was queen of somewhere
I don't know, and I wanted to be king
She was high class in a low class world
And I wanted to be king
She had her napkin tucked
Just so, you know
Not all scrunched up in a ***
And she only dabbed the corners
Like an Angel sent from God
She was crisp and pressed and perfect
Not a hair was out of place
And the light just made her eyes shine
She had such a lovely face
She's was high class in a low class world
That was plain as plain could be
I wanted to be in her world
And I wanted her with me
She was queen of somewhere
I don't know, and I wanted to be king
She was high class in a low class world
And I wanted to be king
She was sitting in our diner
although she belonged far uptown
Most folks here all wore ball caps
while she deserved a crown
When she spoke, my heart just trembled
Her voice was breathy, like a wisp
And she spoke like she was Royal
So cool and cut and crisp
She's was high class in a low class world
That was plain as plain could be
I wanted to be in her world
And I wanted her with me
She was queen of somewhere
I don't know, and I wanted to be king
She was high class in a low class world
And I wanted to be king
She was someone from a movie
Full of mystery, intrigue
And I knew from looking at her
She was way out of my league
I wouldn't know just where to start
She was gold and I was tin
She was High class in my low class world
And I surely wanted in
I stood there in the kitchen
Washing dishes in the sink
And I knew I'd go home lonely
What else was there for to think?
She's was high class in a low class world
That was plain as plain could be
I wanted to be in her world
And I wanted her with me
She was queen of somewhere
I don't know, and I wanted to be king
She was high class in a low class world
And I wanted to be king
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 6:55 PM UTC
Her prayers are
Breathy I love you's,
Warm and pained against your skin.
Your body is her altar,
Her temple,
The cathedral surrounding her
In her heartbroken worship
As she unravels,
Crying,
Shaking,
Clinging to you with
Everything
She
Has
Left.
The shattered pieces
Of her heart are the broken winged swallows,
Flocking in fluttering storms
In your bell tower,
Nesting in your rafters
Alongside the owls you've let be
To this point,
Content to allow them to roost.
Her hands are your bibles,
The creases telling a thousand stories
Of the girl who weathers the fiercest storms,
But falls apart at the seams
For love of you.
Your laughter serves as her hymns,
Ringing through the expanse of you,
Singing in her ears.
Sometimes she tries
Laughing alongside you,
But her voice cracks
Like an untuned piano
Whenever she opens her lips
To add her laughter to
Your songbooks.
You each find a different kind of heaven
In the stained glass windows
Of the other's eyes.
Hers are the ocean,
Deep and stormy,
Only ever calm
Just before lightning shakes her frame,
Rain and froth
Pounding
Against the glass,
Breaking it's way through,
Trying to flood your halls
As the tempest carves new legends
In her outstretched hands;
New biblical stories to lose yourself in.
She finds summer nights in your gaze,
Bonfires dappling damp grass,
And a boy
Laying on the hood of a run down car,
Staring too intently at the stars
To truly register their fragility,
Their mortality,
Even as they plummet from the sky,
Bursts of white light
Reflecting gold through green glass.
The comet-light ripples,
Climbing to the rafters,
Startling the owls from their perches,
And you can feel them thrumming,
Beating their wings against the ceiling of your ribs.
k. f.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC
voice in whispered tone
like breathy saxophone
I hold a longing moan
within
fingers through my strands
ruin all my plans
the way your calloused hands
grip skin
lips that taste like truth
of gin and dry vermouth
pierced by sinking tooth
and sin
I memorize your face
as I fade from this place
forgetting all that time and space
has been
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 9:33 PM UTC
you took powerful women and made them powerless,
kissed each tongue as if she was a new flower sniffed
a treasured spelled question where its only found in bliss
a new girl for my hand now that's a cowards tisk tisks
spitting each one of there souls for your own self discovery
my menacing thoughts are hashed out as if each one was for her, you see
like i was a monster with an inner demon that counted our souls
that counted our souls as if i was the one stealing
right out of stock i rather fight then mock
im stronger then i look
most of mother ******* rather leave then look
you know leave comfort right outer your nook
its over booked
like a library over due
curse
each one of my demons that over see
my shoulder they sneeze
achoo
and i only flu they breeze
Jehovah
my god he sees.
id rather respect him
then fall into a snare of sleeze
you mother *******
barely got a grasp of life
and see more then only I can
sac
riff
ice
its a little watery for jam,
maybe you should open it
close most of those books
that never opened
or writ
or did i mean write
lets charge the read
not for the color
but only because
we seek for that lover
its or an
orange
melodies
that searched more then what i have to cover
or more then me just wanting to brother
sibling or not
i will fight and naught
breathy cadence of her warm children
most of you mother are just feel ins
they are some what still-in(steal?)
no use reuse
you dont think God
(God dont you think)
will choose?
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 6:05 AM UTC
It comes suddenly
a storm that rages to fury
bleeding me between your hands,
your mouth,
to where each syllable lost
between midnight’s satin
crests into a crazed madness
where the soft slide hardens
to gripping intentions as my arousal
tastes in jasmine-licked surrenders
like manna
for your hungered heaven
there, where no scream
goes unanswered but only echoed,
you are with me
primal
seared,
the flesh of you wetly hot
to my thundering pulse,
I am surrender laced
with impetuous desires
woven to linger upon your reddened lips
pressed *******
scrape across your flesh
as you moan in greedy adoration
to my whispered frenzy,
“taste me here,
let me feed you
there”
the suckle of your hot mouth
plastered to my ******* fills me
and I am burgeoning
upon graven yearns
here,
I ache in throbbing flames
as your tongue lathes
love’s lick playing tag
to my purr of silken gasps
and breathy mewling cries
in your ears
stating my submission of this
plunging dominance….
I burn…burn
…to inferno
Smiles wreathe pearl
as you revel in my passionate blossom,
your lick peels me wanton
where we are
pooled
shameless and painted,
my torrents are spilled for you
stained and swallowed
greedily
and I,
quivering in the tsunami
that you bequeath to my racking body,
I arch,
reaching that shattering golden gateway
singing joyous to the columns of fate’s
raging wave
Unleashed,
I am
the tide
Where you are damply hollow
and drowning...
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC