poetry
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It had never been phrased to her like that before. That the act of creating a story for someone was creating a universe. An act more intimate than sharing physical space. Was she reckless with her gifts? Or was her gift to create infinite galaxies for those who occupied her nebula for a period of
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I used to be a poet Until I fell in love I used to be a poet And dream about putting you into haikus Singing sonnets about your smiles Iambic pentameter about your interactive love and rhymes I used to be a poet And use the colors of the rainbow to describe you Your skin
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light feather touches, excite me so light i can barely feel them leaving me tingling vibrating all over slowly, tracing circles over my breast, they swell like dark choclate kisses and you sample one into your mouth you ake it savoring the chocolate flavor i moan, and a little bead of moisture begins to gather
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I know that I have been slacking on this blog and I apologize. Many things eat up time and space. Here is something I was thinking about while watching the fireworks last Friday. Do I want my love to be like fireworks loud explosions of color announcing their arrival to everyone ooooohhhh, aaaaaahhhhh oh how
Wandering & Wondering 