her, I

Spiraling to soil in deep, concentric circles,Yesterday's words seem to bloom asDaffodils or Sunflowers- Roses left unattended,Neatly kept under glass hoods, waiting patiently for years;Every new syllable seems to drip with intoxicating sensualityYes, a soft whisper for two: felt and never heard

Re: her

For what will have happened Reciprocation bends her thinly plumaged swan neck and Every pore starts to pulse with the anticipation of well earned sweat;Loving kindness, manifested through honest Hazel eyes;One piece of ethereal folded soul, slowly and surely reaching out to the Completion of itself, where glances and tones cross and criss-cross, thenAlabaster and earth … Continue reading Re: her

What’s Beautiful

It's the comedown of it all. the after splash, falling back, air rushing out of faux down, feeling the thought rush in, remembering that sweat is a response to heat not a cause of it. That natural occurrences are sometimes all that are needed to peel our psyche away from the glass of existence and … Continue reading What’s Beautiful

If Sex Were Something Else…

If sex were drinking, you would know that I am a finger of whiskey poured at arm's length into a rocks glass tossed down the throat, A burn in the gut some instant of fire a celebration of a moment that lingers in the mind. If sex were conversation, you would know that I'm a … Continue reading If Sex Were Something Else…