Slut

The constant object of men’s desire, her rejection of them brings their ire upon her. They fuck their wives and mistresses while fantasizing about her. Her lips, breasts, ass and hips entice their most carnal secrets. They become slaves to their cravings. Men stroke themselves to intense pleasure under warm water visualizing themselves fucking her. They are secretly obsessed even when they are with their significant others. Some would even offer significant sums of money to have her. In their failed attempts they call her Slut, in vitriolic anger. In stark hypocrisy they whisper to themselves that they love her; they would gladly fall on their knees to suck her cream colored pedicured toes and drink her bathwater. They’re soulless and emotionally inept; their offers do not move her. She has been with powerful men before, so men’s display of wealth is minimal and unimpressive in her eyes. They are not knowledgeable enough to know that she wants a man who can reach the depths of her soul and in genuine friendship allow love to grow in time.

Yes, she is deeply sexual and sensual, but she will give herself only to a man who truly loves her. The secret of her deepest pain is that she was violated in the worst way by her own father. In their discovery of her, they will discover the deep trauma she’s endured. But knowing they cannot have her, they whisper: Slut, Whore. Envious women call her, Jezebel and condemn her to hell. She is naturally beautiful and feminine needing no pretentious disguise. She has the most beautiful eyes. Men jeer with sexual gestures — they stare, and call her Slut as she walks by.

Storm of Tears

Perpetual dark rain masks the tears of my unending pain; there is no distinction when tears fall in a storm. Incessant sorrow is the numbness of my soul. I used to crave warmth, but I have adapted to bitter cold. I am shattered over and over again; the dams of my eyes fill with the tears of my heart. I am silent and still in my weeping before the bellowing of my anguish starts. I seek understanding no more, nor do I reach for love in its purest form. Life will be what it will be. I am a castaway, shipwrecked on unmerciful seas. I did not know that I was so deeply wounded until I saw my own blood on the leaves. The tightness of the chest and shortness of breath feels like slow imminent death. There is no fucking redemption in constant torment. If hell is my portion then in hell I will walk. I do not give a fuck about societal norms or their prejudice thoughts. The decadence of their sentiments have bloated them — they are greedy pigs with foul breath at the trough. The weight of their iniquities have crush their knees; on their bellies they crawl. Still, in unending storms tears fall. To protect myself from further pain, around my heart I build an impenetrable wall. In the dystopia of my soul I am stranded, left desolate. The beauty of past intimacy seems like a lifetime away. After early morning sensuality, from work, she would call to tell me that she was still throbbing, further inciting my intimate passion. Regretfully, I never showed her the sorrowful depths of me, afraid to show the vastness of my pain. Sorrow is now synonymous with my name — my unseen tears washed away by dark eternal rain.  

Pretense

If all we do is just fuck and pretend, what then shall we say to each other in the end? What tears of heartbreak will be shed? What emotional words will be softly and lovingly spoken? What remnants shall we have to hold onto that were once filled with love before they became broken? Why do we attempt to fool each other with sweet words that mean nothing? Is it not at least somewhat sadistic that we use each other for pleasure then blaspheme the name of love as if it was love that brought us together? 

We share a bed and go through our regular routine, then right after, breathless together, you talk of wedding locations and rings. I purposely avoid your delusional sentiments, not subtly but overtly, and still, you continue to bring them up again. In the company of your friends you act like we’re some model couple because you want them to envy you — and ignorantly, they do. Maybe it’s our lust for each other that keep us together. Many times I’ve packed my bags to leave but always end up taking you on the sink in the bathroom or against the wall in the bedroom or on the carpet on your knees in any room. But that’s all we do; fuck, breakup, make up, pretend and argue. 

Tragedy of Ecstasy (Tiffany’s dilemma)

Before she fucks him, she always takes of her wedding rings. She says she sincerely loves her husband, but his dysfunction does not allow him to satisfy her constant craving. Often in uncontrollable amorous throbbing, she touches herself, and she uses many different toys of her choosing; but her desire is for the sensuous feeling of the real thing. With her lover, at first, per agreement, there was just primal fucking, not intimate kissing — but as time went on, rules were broken, and her husband, she divorced him; and her lover, she fell in love with him. But her lover, he was not faithful to her, for her lover had wives, mothers and others. Some were for pleasure, some were for the money of his hire. Often after the quenching of her lustful hunger, she thinks about the husband who unconditionally loved her when she is in the shower. She misses her husband’s loving whispers and sincerely affectionate kisses. She misses the way she was held. She cries, because he rescued her from emotionally hell, took care of her wonderfully and treated her so well. But he could not satisfy her sexually — he could not bring her to ecstasy; he could not quench the fire within her. The bareness of her ring finger signifies the story of tragedy, and even after ecstasy, still, she is unhappy.

She is a mystery cloaked in elegance and beauty — the presence of her is womanly; be loving and patient in your discovery, and in time, you will find her, a flower that caressing winds carried over raging fires and vastly deep waters, finally setting her down delicately in a hidden place of safety that could only be found by the truly worthy who sincerely love her deeply — protecting her heart forever.