Eroticism, intimacy, and agony through poetry.
Darkness is subtle in its caress.
The soft light slowly exposes her,
Like a sculpture in alluring undress;
It reveals the feminine contours of her feet
and the sensual enchantment of her breasts.
She breathes in eroticism
And exhales euphoria with every breath.
It is an ethereal experience
To discover the levels of her depths.
The well of love in her heart is full;
Her erotic soul is out of control
And absolutely beautiful.
Strapless stiletto heels, reveal the sensual subtly of her appeal;
Burgundy polished, pedicured feet with ankle bracelet
Make her feminine arches spectacularly undeniable.
The confidence in her walk is a slayer of men’s hearts—
And in its womanly intricacy, a thing of absolute beauty;
Without heels, she is still a goddess — but in heels,
She surpasses all, in the harnessing of her sexual prowess.
The softness of her feet, displaying the beautiful color of her toes
where they peep, is an exercise in excellence;
They match her short black sundress and flawlessly impress.
Academics try to encapsulate the mystery of her feminine essence,
Debating the ethereal nature of every slight movement in her steps.
Her sexy toe rings, in addition to everything else,
Will make your heart jump and take away your breath.
Seductive eyes gaze upon what they desire.
Passionate fingers stimulate erogenous zones
That cause heavy breathing and immersion in erotic fire.
She thinks of him, as she teases herself, saying his name
Through paused exhales and lascivious whispers.
Through a symphony of moaning, your body tells me of its longing.
I am passionate in my approach and intent in my listening.
To please you, is more than just mere expressions of the physical;
It is primal passion, long lasting, mixed with something ethereal.
I immerse myself in you, after a red sky fades into the night
And the color of the sky becomes midnight blue.
You hold onto me, tightly, shuddering uncontrollably,
Unable to express to me what you feel, verbally, but I know; baby, I know.
I must venture deeper to capture the raw essence of your primal heart;
I want you to tell me the secrets of your erotic desires, as if we were long distance lovers.
Whisper to me, not what I want to hear, but the things you’ve wanted to try for years.
Our intimacy started when I kissed your neck and shoulders, as you let down your hair.
The beauty of your aura must be appreciated, so I step back and stare;
With sensual eyes, I step back and stare.
I close my eyes to savor the moment, and when they are again opened, a goddess is there.
A beautiful goddess, with long flowing waterfalls for hair, is standing there.
There is no reason or validation needed to love you.
There is no rational or explanation of the feelings
within me, when I hold you.
There is nothing in all the worlds more beautiful than you.
There is too long a list, to write the traits that define you.
There is a particularly wonderful aura about you.
There is no uncertainty that my heart belongs to you.
There is a certain silence after intimacy that
denotes to your heart all of the words that my
mouth wants to tell you.
In lifeless heartbreak, he is resurrected in her gaze.
The black veil is taken away by strong winds,
exposing the depths of agony in her weeping;
there is anguish in her rising, and no rest in her sleeping.
Listen intently, and hear the sorrow of her speaking.
Before misery takes over completely,
she hides the joyous parts of her heart for safe keeping.
The weight of woe makes it hard for her to breathe;
the heaviness of it tears the soul’s fabric
and causes wailing of the deeply wounded spirit.
Unceasing torment renders her numb and listless.
In the darkness, she whispers incoherent utterances in the chair she sits.
Reality is harsh in its coldness — and it can be merciless;
Oh heaven, please turn her many tears in to diamonds,
and her piercing wails, into a joyous song.
Death has taken away from her, what she has loved for so long—
hands, adorned in black satin gloves, lovingly slide down the entire length of the casket,
where inside there is lifelessness — heavy teardrops fall on him
as she leans over, and as if in a trance — she stares at him.
She whispers something to him, before kissing him;
an utterance of secrecy that only belongs to her and him.
Six solemn faced men line up to carry him, to hollowed earth, where they will lay him.
It is there, that she comes with flowers, and weeps in her praying.
The cold fall winds blow against her face and cause her tears to fall away,
as if trying to comfort her in her mourning.
She will see him again in the light of heaven’s dawning.
He is no more, but in her heart, she carries him,
so he walks among the living — breathing, seeing, and whispering.
Even in his departing, her heart still belongs to him.
She is beautiful, as much as she is loving.
She is beautiful, as much as she is loving.
She explores her body thoroughly, rediscovering the parts of her that were once receptive to pleasure but now lie dormant. She craves soft kisses on her neck. She craves intimacy. In her desire, she has found a renewed sensuality; she closes her eyes, touching herself slowly. Time is of no consequence; the primal arousal of her body is awakened gradually. Her heavy breathing is a direct reaction to her erotic memories; thinking about him in her fantasy, she whispers his name sensually, inadvertently. In her new found arousal there is wonder and beauty. Somewhere in her psyche, there is an underlying erotic subtleness that teases her body. She whispers his name again — this time intentionally. She feels him. She feels him deeply. She surrenders herself to pleasure totally and is immersed in femininity. She screams. She screams loudly.
Erotic reflexes drive pleasure to the edge, allowing the sensual essence to flow uninhibited. Long held thoughts are revealed in lascivious whispers, heightening the senses — leading to waves of unexpected releases; the longing of temptation is vigorously fulfilled, and the desires of the heart overflow and spill. Predilection takes over and is passionately pursued with prurient wanting; pleasure is found in both giving and receiving. Concupiscent utterances and primal screaming is not deceiving — erogenous zones cannot lie. Before more euphoric waves arrive, there are amatory whispers and a locking of the eyes. In those moments, the reticent disguise is uncovered and forever set aside; unlimited pleasure demands its subjects to fall away from foolish pride. In the giving of themselves, the dead parts of their repressed want come alive. Memories of alluring positions and seductive temptations linger in the blue fire of the mind. Intimate scenarios are replayed again and again over time. Impatiently, naughty fingers touch all the points of pleasure they can find, until next time.
After the storm
She is still;
Her heart is calm.
