poetry
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Center it. Be particular about it. Your awareness of me Instead of post, post, like, post, phone, post, walk, like, like, me, love, smiley face, love, post Be a participant in my energy So when I tell you, I’m emotionally empty you don’t respond “Ok cool” because you missed it with your comments, IG photos,
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“Some men say that I’m intense or I’m insane” – Angelica Schuyler, Hamilton The Musical When I first heard the line above sung I screamed out YES! because it fit my life so perfectly. I have always been that woman. I have always felt like I am too much and yet, not enough. We know
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Never was I into masochism Pain was never my thing Except With you, I had what Merriam Webster so eloquently calls “a taste for suffering” and my suffering must be seasoned with Lawry’s because it feels so damn good and I couldn’t stop partaking of its bitterness Because my imagination kept flagellating itself with pictures
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For years you loved her An internal vision of perfection You felt her You saw her You knew the curve of the finger she would touch your hand with She was the one you imagined and measured every contender against Until me And the glitter of my gift wrap warped her image I was taller, rounder,
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His looks made me pause, but his mouth held my attention Talking…Teaching…Telling With clarity and intention He approached There was no hesitation as he assured “I want you; unlock” And I tumbled into submission – by choice and full awareness Made it clear my care matched his and let my zephyrs help us renew Today I crawl
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It is all inside my head The feeling you want her instead of me The feeling she sets your heart aflame That you would rather take her home than me That she is getting all your secrets Your smiles Your joy And I get your space and opportunity But it’s all in my head Isn’t it?
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Your tongue is the starring feature in a scene played across my mind while my hand vibrates lips and I shake with the remembrance of orgasms past and yet to cum Photo by William Stitt on Unsplash
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I admit it. I fucked up. Caught between awake and dreaming, I thought I could control it. I thought it would be easy since in the past, when the buzzer sounded, I always woke up. But this time, I lay immobilized listening to the incessent screech threating me with ecstasy Dreaming and remembering. Smooth, heat,
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Show me you thirst for me Grab my hips relentlessly as you heave me back toward you. The feel of the weight of your hands in the crack of my hips holding me as you use me only for your pleasure not worried about anything else except the wet, heat of my pussy spread just
Wandering & Wondering 