From the Heart

I had tried for so long to purge your memory from me, but in my attempt, I discovered that you were not only in my memories, but you are a part of me eternally. I say that I no longer love you, loudly, but I caress your face and kiss you in the depths of my spirit quietly. There was a time I told you that I wanted you to be happy, even without me, but now, perhaps selfishly, I want your happiness to be an immersion in me. My desolation takes me to an unforgiving and dark place where the hands of the clock move extremely slowly, mercilessly prolonging my misery. Rescue me, lest I drown in the deep cold waters of despondency. My life is forfeit lest there is love in it; in my tearful plea for love, I am passionate. In my brokenness, I hold myself together from the remnants of love that I draw on entirely too much — and I fear it fades away from me daily. In agony, the soul cannot lie; the truth must be professed. In my confession, I must say, there is an emptiness and a distinct pain that is relentless. Perhaps I will call on heaven’s archangels to come down and illuminate my darkness with celestial light. At night, I walk among the trees and search for her aura in the twilight. One thousand pink long stemmed roses are the beauty and fragrance of my utterances. Love, I wait on you with tears for you to embrace me once again. The length, scent, and texture of her hair alone moved me to emotion. True intimacy expressed in sensual darkness is more precious than diamonds. I hold many emotional letters of love in my heart that are unfinished, hoping that love will find me once again, and that my desolate fate will be rewritten.

Intimate Whispers

Tonight, he takes care of her with more than just carnal pleasure; but with sincere loving whispers that move her, gentle kisses, and intimate secrets that he’s never told anyone, that he thought he would hold within his heart forever. He truly loves her, and it shows in the way he gives all of himself to her. There is an otherworldly beauty in the way they share joyous tears together. To give her the world, he would do anything within his power. She is a delicate flower, and daily he showers her petals with refreshing loving water. To taste of a woman’s essence, is to experience the gorgeous fulness of intimate transcendence. There is nothin more beautiful in this world or any to come than a woman. The warmth of her body alone moves him to emotion. To listen to the beats of her heart, is to be close to her in an intimate way that even the archangels would tearfully gaze upon. Every moment of immersion in her love is a deep breath. Every second she is held by him is akin to a desolate person finding love’s new beginning. Truthfully, he would die for her, willingly. She is his breath and the steps that reach his utter depths. Oh, what beauty it is to see a woman truly loved with her eyes closed in the throes of ecstasy! He kisses her passionately with the undertones of an affectionate intensity. What they possess is not just mere sexual compatibility, but a true and wonderful intimacy. These are the words that he whispered to her in tearful sincerity: I love you. With everything within me, truly, I love you baby. There is no other that captures me. In the rapture of our love, I find peace. In the wreckage of my life on unforgiving seas, you are the angel that cared for me and lovingly reached. You are the life within me; without you, I can’t breathe. You are the lone pink rose that grew beautifully in a desolate forest among many towering trees.

Secret Desires

She is with him, but she is unmoved in her responses,
For he is not her desire, but another man she fantasizes.
Intermittently, she feigns pleasure through spurious euphoric noises;
She cannot stop thinking of him and is taken in her longing.
Her spirit burns, in the fire of her unceasing yearning;
She is not his — but she truly wants to belong to him.

After It’s Gone

When love is no more, the viciousness of words
is the the weapon that cuts to the core;
all that is left are melancholic whispers, and thoughts of regret.
Years of unhappiness is a slow death,
culminating in the gasping of air in final breaths—
from deep wounds, the soul is disfigured,
and the heart relinquishes passionate feelings in its relent.
There are no goodbye kisses or last intimate experiences;
after the last screams, hatred rises to the surface,
and tears are shed in stagnant silence.
The door closes, and the first night of loneliness
brings more melancholia and darkness.
In an empty dwelling, after it finally sets in,
reality is cruel in its starkness.

Isabella’s Whispers

Because of my faults and afflictions, do not shun me;
through loving eyes look upon me and truly see the makings of my depths.
Hear the beauty of my utterances through anguished breaths;
In my weariness, hold me in warm caress, and immerse me in your tenderness.
Had I not tasted of love, I would not have known of its healing effects;
do not turn away from me lest I am shattered in my vulnerable fragility,
for if I am shattered, I shall be vastly scattered — and if I am scattered,
the remnants of me will be blown away by the wind,
and taken to a place of desolation where coldness of the heart begins.